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Monday, October 14, 2013

Revenge...Best Served On Your Mother's Blog


Today my mother made the second two HUGE mistakes. One She left her blog open with a nosy son, witch no one is scared to admit… Two, Last week she went to something that she knew better than to do without me, and she dropped me off with my no secret keeping dad. I will initiate something that is best served cold, or on blogs…. REVENGE!!!! Hey mom get a load of this…………..

 


That being said, here a small glimpse of what I put up with as “The Superior’s” son. 

Dear Diary

Today is a Wednesday and I was at school. The afternoon announcements came on and they called my name and said I was a car rider. I went up to the office and asked who was coming to pick me up. They said that it was my father. When he picked me up I asked why I was coming to his house on one of my mom’s days. He then told me that my mom had gone to a Luke Bryant concert without me. REALLY!!!! Why would anyone want to leave me?!?!?! The loving, young, nosey, comedic, most awesome person EVER!!!!!! THIS MEANS WAR!!!!!!!!!!

 

Dear Diary

Today I noticed that the superior always loves to rub my head gently and slowly. But I also noticed that she has two hands and has the nerve to only pet me with one hand!!!! She knows that if she really loved me that she would rub my head with both hands! I went to her and said to her “Really”? Why must you torture me like this? The knowledge of only having half the love is surely killing me. I will soon be dead…..

Dear Diary

I have been TOLD!!!!!!!! OMG!!! I know the superior is, well you know, superior. But I didn’t know that she was capable of this! In her own words she said this “Son you maybe taller than me but so help me I don’t care how old you are, how tall you are, I don’t even care if your 7’5, I’ll get up on a chair and kick your butt because I made you and I can destroy you just that easily”! Needless to say she stole my breath. Talking about shuting a guy up!  WOW!!!!


Dear Diary

I have lately noticed that the superior has taken a liking for me to standing at attention and saying hail Blondie in a deep firm voice in her presence. She doesn’t know this but I also like this because I am secretly planning for her to make me cookies by making her in a good mood. Which is not easy considering my mom use to be married to a trial lawyer. (AKA My Dad) We will see how this plays out and how and/or if this plays out good or bad.

 


Dear Diary

I have become constipated. After two days my superior took me to the even smarter, older, wiser superior and evil villain…the doctor. As we were in the waiting room, my mother was telling me that the doctor was going to have to look at my butt. I told myself that he surely wouldn’t but five minutes later the doctor was telling me that I was going to have to turn over and for my mom to look away. Suddenly I felt two hands spreading my butt cheeks and though my mom was turned around trying not to laugh, she was trying very poorly. Suddenly I heard a slight squeaky noise as I was trying to squench my cheeks but fortunately the doctor was old and was hard of hearing and right after my leakage, he released my butt cheeks. Trying hard to hold my tongue….my head was screaming at me to say to the doctor “How’s it smell back there now doc”?

Dear Diary

The other day, I was helping the superior clean the house. I walked by her phone and saw she got a text from a guy and was seeming to enjoy his time talking to her. I went to her and asked her who this man was, what his intentions were, and how old he was. She said he was nearly two years younger than herself.  It was clear that she wanted to make him her new boy toy by the look in her eyes. I suddenly started singing cougar life in the city. She laughed so hard she nearly peed herself. Eventually she tired of my spontaneous eruptions into song (maybe it was because it happened in grocery stores, around friends and eventually with him).  I later noticed that when the commercial for cougar life came on, the look in her eyes made me fear that she may soon remove my only source of inappropriate entertainment (other than the internet) in the house. Maybe I took this a little too far… Cougar life in the city, UH.
 
            OH NO...MY MOMS COMING GOT TO GO!!!!!!


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Thursday, October 3, 2013

Public Indecency or Lucky Me...Take Your Pick



The night started out innocent enough.  It was a community event where local businesses set up tables showcasing their products and services.  As a board member for a local charitable organization, I was working one such table.  I was doing my civic duty creating community awareness for a cause I’m passionate about.  Most booths, including ours, were offering raffles and prizes as a way to attract people to their exhibits.  Local restaurants served samples of their culinary masterpieces (or not), a local liquor store was passing out healthy samples of varying wines (you know which was my favorite), retailers were exhibiting their products, and chiropractors and masseuses were set up giving out free massages…WAIT!!!  STOP RIGHT THERE!!!  Did someone say FREE massages?  SIGN ME UP!!!
After making my rounds to the various businesses, and making a couple return visits (more wine please), as well as signing up for all the free prizes, I made my way to a chiropractor’s table where a good looking doctor was doing posture exams.  Like the hussy I am, I let him run his hands all up and down my spine, hips and neck before making an appointment with him to do a better job of it next week.  Then I sashayed my butt over to where my eye had really been all night…the massage table in the corner of the room. 
There were three women in that corner section of the room demonstrating their services.  They had two chairs and one table.  If you’ve ever seen the massage chairs (which were facing out toward the rest of the room) then you’ll understand that in the dress I was wearing, that was NOT an option.  So I’m led to the table and begin to get on it when the masseuse, a 5’ nothing grey headed woman in her mid-60s asks me “front or back”.  I kinda looked at her confused and asked for clarification.  She replied, “It depends on if you want your neck and shoulders worked on or your back.”  Whew, oh, ok…back.  So in front of about 200 of my closest community members I put my face in the donut shaped head thing at the end of the table, my high-heel laden feet propped up on a pillow wedge type thing at the end of the bed. 
The woman stands at my head and begins very slowly pushing down my back.  Then she moves to one side and briskly rubs that side of my back, lower, lower, TOO LOW!!!  HOLY BAT BALLS!!!  Is she really rubbing my butt in front of the mayor, our city council and the entire community?  Why, yes she is, and she’s into it too.  What can I do at this point?  I thought about jumping to my feet, but that would draw even more attention, so I laid there.  Surely nobody would be watching.  Finally she moved up.  Whew, glad that was over I relaxed again, enjoying the massage.  BAM!!! Back to butt rubbing.  If she’d spent half the amount of time on my back as she did on my butt, I’d have been one limp noodle.  Since I lack much butt, I thought, “perhaps she’s just trying to fluff it…like a pillow."  What would have happened if I’d opted for the neck and shoulders option?  Would she have decided I had too much tension in my boobs?  That surely would have been a spectacle as I’m no small breasted woman!
When the massage was finally over and I got off the table, my smartass girlfriend says, “Wow!  You’re face is really red.  I’m not into women, but hell, I about got turned on just watching that.”  Yes, she’s an asshole.  As if that wasn’t bad enough, another lady, prominent in our community says, “I was tempted to ask if she wanted to spank you while she was at it!”  Ok, so people were definitely watching and having a lot of fun at my expense.  But one thing is for sure, my butt felt GOOD!!! 
I got several more comments in the next little bit, and when a male friend of mine showed up, I tried very hard to get him to get on the table.  I was curious to see if she was an equal opportunity butt rubber or if mine just looked like it needed special attention!  Not only would he not get on the table, but neither did anyone else after that.   So a few days go by and I run into one of our City Council members.  What’s the first thing that comes out of his mouth?  “Hey there.  How’s the butt feeling?”  If assholes could fly, this town would be an airport.



AMAZING UPDATES THAT CAN ONLY HAPPEN TO ME:  (October 5, 2012)


I went to the good looking Chiropractor's office yesterday for the evaluation that I scheduled at the community event.  We sat in his office as he went through my history with me.  A cute picture of he and his wife sat on his desk facing outward toward my chair (damn it).  He then escorted me to an exam room with an xray machine and various other equipment, as well as several different colors of hospital gowns.  He hands me a gown and asks me to remove everything but my panties and make sure the gown fastens in the back.  I started to make a smart ass comment like, "I'm sorry Doctor, but I'm not wearing any today" but he was married so I was behaving.  When he leaves the room, I strip down and sit down on the rolling stool, feeling very self conscience as I sat there exposed.  When he returns, he stops at the door, looks at me for a second, then says, "Wow, I knew green was your color.  Feel free to keep that gown, it looks fantastic!" 

Apparently this should be my new look

REALLY?  I'm sitting here half naked (I resisted throwing a little sexual innuendo in on ya), you're gonna tell me I look fantastic in the gown, AND be good looking.  Now I'm really at ease...or not.  Doctors should NOT be good looking.  They should be hideous trolls that you wouldn't mind cutting with your leg stubble if you don't feel like shaving before a visit. That being said.  He sits behind me and undoes the back of my gown.  He slowly begins feeling along my spine, beginning at my neck and ending at the base of my spine (better knows and my butt).  I felt like humming popey the sailor man or something just to ease my tension.  The only thing I can do is keep my arms pressed tightly to my sides in the hopes that I don't lose the gown from the rest of me.  Then  he poses me for various xrays and the exam is over.  Whewwww!

I survived the experience, and didn't make any smart ass comments.  I know, I'm kinda disappointment in myself for that too.  I bet he wouldn't have made the robe comment if I'd made the no panties one first.  I have another appointment Monday.  Maybe I'll redeem myself then.   

Wednesday, September 11, 2013

Back to the Fishing Hole...If Only There Weren't So Many Damn Minnows!

If you've read my about me section, read many of my blogs or know me personally you probably already know that I suck at relationships.  I just don't think they are for me, yet I seem to find myself in them on a semi-regular basis knowing all to well they are destined to fail and why.  Yet I'm a single woman in the middle of my sexual peak that likes to have a regular partner and not just pass myself around like Halloween candy to anyone that knocks on my door. 

Sex is another story...I'm GREAT at sex.  How do I know this, you ask?  I've been divorced for over 8 years so I've had PLENTY of sex...with myself.  Doesn't that qualify me as an expert on the matter?

All joking aside, in my 8+ years as a divorcee, I have never had a problem getting a date, I have had problems finding a man I wanted to date more than once.  I find that things that men love about me and draw them to me in the beginning are the very things they want to change or suppress about me in the end.  Unfortunately, I'm getting old and already set in my ways so if something's going to change, it's gonna be my partner, not myself.  What you see is what you get and if you don't like it, kiss my ass on your way out the door.

Another thing I've come to realize in today's technologically savvy world is that single men could really use some classes in social skills and etiquette.  With all the technological advances, often getting to know a man happens via social media, online dating sites or even just over text messaging.  I find that men will say things from the safety of their electronic devices that they wouldn't dare to say if they were in a traditional setting (church, restaurant, grocery storeWalmart, etc.) 



Yeah, Walmart is where I'm hoping to find my future ex-husband...or not.
Thanks People of Walmart for ruining my hopes of finding my future ex-husband in our neighborhood Walmart. Also, thank you for making me cringe at the thought of sitting down on any public seating ANYWHERE!  "Hi there....let me guess...you're in the plumbing profession and you wanna lay your snake in my drain.  Let me think about that....um...no."
I'm a pretty social person with a pretty active social life, but live in an area where there aren't many single men of quality to choose from, and then how do you meet them?  So I too have a profile set up on a couple of dating sites: POF and DH. They provide much more entertainment than potential suitors, but I've got time and I get bored easily.  If you read my blog, Online Dating then you already know what I'm talking about...if not, you might want to take a look at it by clicking the link.

Men get brazen and bold when they are faceless and letting their fingers do the talking!  Sex has become a quick topic in dating sites and when sex can be arranged so easily with random strangers, it makes developing emotional connections much harder.  I mean, you got an itch, scratch it...if someone quits scratching it right, move on to the next.  You don't even have to get out of your PJs or leave your house to set up a booty call. 

When entertaining one of these innuendo riddled conversations the other day, it got to a point where I very clearly told the gentleman despite his smooth talking he wasn't getting me separated from my panties.  His reply had me starring at my phone dumbfounded for a second..."well how's your mouth feeling?"  Really?  Did he just go there?  How do I respond to that?  "Sorry honey, my dentist told me to keep small objects away from my teeth." 

Among too many funny ones to mention, I recently got a message from a man whose profile clearly stated that he was currently in prison.  Are you kidding me?  (Read from bottom up)


Its good to know that our tax dollars go to help find our inmates potential life mates they can go to upon their release.  I loved the "I would like to see more of you than I see here" statement.  Well, duh!  If the only action he's had in the past couple of years has been in the prison showers and laundry room closets, I bet he's itching to see a lot more of me, or any woman for that matter, to get him through those long hours of gang rape and butt plugging.  "Just close your eyes and think or me and pretend you're not on the receiving end sweetheart.  It will be over in 3-5 years."  Yeah, that just doesn't do it for me.

Another one that made me chuckle was this one:


In case you haven't realized why this one made me laugh, 867-5309 was the number from Tommy Tutone's song in the 80s where he gets the girls number from the bathroom wall where it says call for a good time.  It was a classic song from my youth, and the number has been given to many men over the years...most of whom understood it's meaning and didn't ask me for an area code. 

Maybe that last one was a little mean.  He did come back and send me a very nice email apologizing for the "let's hook up" introduction but I think the damage is already done.  Needless to say, I'm still single and haven't hooked me a keeper yet, but I'm gonna keep fishing.  I'll see what I can stir up and have a few laughs along the way.  And hell, maybe I'll be able to pass a few laughs around at mine, or their expense.  In the meantime, I guess I'll just have to stock up on plenty of batteries.
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Wednesday, September 4, 2013

Urinals...They're Not Just For Men Anymore!

I made a horrible mistake today.  A mistake from which I will probably be mentally scarred for life.  I google'd "bizarre picture".  I know you're probably tempted to do it right now....DON'T DO IT!!!!  I saw things that no person should EVER see.  However, among the very disgusting and the super painful looking I found something repetitious that sparked my interest.  Interesting urinals.  Bunches of them.  I mean, every thought of peeing on a nun?  Me either, but now you can...and you can even pic your color!


And since everyone knows that when a man holds his penis in his hand to pee, he's wishing there was a pretty set of lips around.  Well, wish no more little guy.  This one's for you!
 


Or what about those drunken nights at the bar when those ten steps to the bathroom are just too long?  Well, that's been thought of too!


I don't think I'll be ordering anything off tap at this place!  Yeah, I'd like a draft beer with a wiz chaser please...um...no.

And because bathrooms are usually small, smelly places that can leave one feeling restricted and cooped up, why not give a man what he really wants?  Perhaps a view...



 
 

Really?  I picture this last one at some biker bar off the interstate somewhere or maybe at a low class strip club, but the other ones are quite elegant.   I mean, just because I have to squat to pee, should I be deprived such luxurious accommodations?  Should I be denied the entertainment that the men blessed to have drained in these accommodations undoubtedly experienced?  Must I be forever trapped to an indoor toilet?  As I struggled with these questions, asking "Why Lord?"  I came across what must truly be the most amazing invention of the 21st century...


That's right ladies!!  Now, we too can pee standing up.  Woot, Woot!  For the amazingly low price of $12.99 your plastic penis can be shipped discreetly to your door!  Just go to http://www.go-girl.com/who-needs-gogirl.asp and order yours.  Imagine the freedom.  Never will you be stuck sitting on the germy toilet seat of a public bathroom.  Now you can miss the toilet, piss on the floor and not feel guilty because you too can pee standing up.  Lavender not manly enough for your new penis?  Have no fear...camouflage is here!

So ladies...next time you see an interesting or elegant urinal and find yourself wishing you could pee in it...now you know you can.  You're welcome.

Wednesday, December 19, 2012

Sandy Hook Elementary School Shooting...Reflection.


Last Friday began as any other Friday.  People prepared for their work and school day, said goodbye to their loved ones as they ventured to their places of employment and educational institutions.  Nobody could have imagined the horror that would soon transpire.  Without warning or apparent reason, a young man by the name of Adam Lanza, having already killed his mother by shooting her four times, shot his way into Sandy Hooks Elementary School in Newtown, CT and killed 20 children and 6 school employees before taking his own life. 

I didn’t find out about this school shooting until early Saturday, but as a mother and a human being the news broke my heart.  I sobbed as I read the horrific details and I couldn’t help but think of what that community and the families of the victims were going through and how could they survive such a tragedy.  I had a confusion of feelings as I went between sadness, anger, shock and just plain outrage that something so senseless could happen to children at such a young age without any reason, explanation or warning.  What could possibly bring a man to snuff the life out of so many innocent children and their educators, as well as his own mother?  The sad fact is that we may never know, and knowing won’t undo what’s been done, or bring back those that have been lost…they are gone…forever.
Source

All I wanted in that moment was to talk to my son (who was at his father’s for the weekend).  I needed to tell him I loved him.  I wanted to hold him, knowing so many parents in the Newtown area would be unable to do so with their babies that night and my heart ached for their losses.  What if this tragedy had happened in my community?  What if it had been my child, my niece or nephews, my child’s friends and classmates?  So many thoughts ran though me.

As a parent, as a person, as a citizen my heart has hurt for the Newtown community as they’ve begun laying these senseless victims to rest in the highly publicized funerals, and have wondered how I’d feel knowing that my pain and loss was on display for the entire country through the media.  Would I feel supported by the outpouring of concern or would I feel violated by the lack of privacy in that awful time in my life and in the lives of my family and friends as we mourned over our lost loved ones?

Despite my queries, a few things I knew with certainty.  Life is short and we are without a crystal ball to foresee the future.  We are often quick to anger, long to resent, cautious to love, and slow to forgive.  What if someone is holding onto grudges from past mistakes when something like this happens?  Parents angry at their children for decisions they’ve made in the ignorance of youth, or adults holding onto resentments of mistakes or decisions made by their parents in their rearing?  Any of the 28 victims (including the shooter and his mother) of the Sandy Hooks Elementary School massacre will not have a second chance, a chance to say goodbye, or to apologize to loved ones, and loved ones must go on with any unsettled business forever remaining unfinished.  Don’t wait till tomorrow to open your heart to love and forgiveness because there is no guarantee that tomorrow will come for everyone.  Be quick to love, be quick to hug those you love and to tell them you do.  As humans we are all imperfect, none of us blameless.  Forgive the sins of the past, and love in the present and the future we’re lucky enough to enjoy with the ones who matter most to us.  To all my loved ones, be you family or friend, know you are loved and accepted…flaws and all.
 

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Friday, October 26, 2012

The Monster Bash...Things That Go Bump In The Night

Last week, despite my month long sabbatical, I was honored to once again be invited to the DudeWrite Dance. I've been feeling like the ugly girl in school that no one wants to eat lunch with for fear of being teased lately, so I was super excited when the ever so debonair Michael A. Walker extended his official invitation to submit my ramblings to you fine folks. He's the writer of the blog Defying Procrastination. If you don't currently follow him, I suggest you take a look at his blog!

By now you all know that my friends are probably not like yours, but if they are than you're a lucky individual. You never know what will be discussed, debated, decided or done when you put us together. Last weekend was a wonderful example. For three nights my friends and I put away our makeup and fancy clothes and instead became creatures of the night (not prostitutes you pervs! What kinda girl you think I am?) In the spirit of Halloween, enter the Haunted Forest, but as the sign says, you must enter at your own risk.
When one entered the Haunted Forest, strobe lights blinked, fog filled the air like a heavy monster concealing mist, yet you were aware something was out there. Now add people; warm blooded, warm brained hikers unaware of what awaited them as they entered the trail. Monsters hid at every corner just waiting to jump out and grab them, or scream some blood curdling scream. A young girl sits in an electric chair and flails around, electricity shooting off of it just as the unsuspecting victims go by. An alligator jumps out of a stream only inches away from the frightened hikers forcing them to hurry through the pitch black tented room that brings them to Elm Street, my home for the weekend. As the anxious hikers feel their way through the pitch black room, all the sudden there is a scream, then an excited utterance of "Warm BRAINS!!!" Just as I grab their heads screeching, "I'M HUNGRY!!"
Brains? I smell BRAINS! YUMMY WARM BRAINS!!
The hikers are now in a sort of run from my zombie self, before being slowed by a creepy Gothic doll looking creature in the path coming toward them making frightening sounds. Wide eyed they sneak by and catch a glimpse of a very scary creature in a casket. They hold each other as they hug the opposite side of the trail. They watch and wait for the hideous creature to rise, or reach, or do something...but nothing happens. Just when they change their focus to what lays ahead, the creature in the casket lurches from the casket grabbing them as they fumble, fall, run or even kick at him before departing.
Imagine that jumping out of the casket after you!
Now I'm explaining it from the perspective of the people paying to enter the haunted forest expecting to get their hearts pumping. However, I feel I must stop there and paint another, very different picture. What do you think we were doing after the hikers passed our point and before the next hikers? You guessed it...we were laughing our asses off.


A young couple comes through, and judging from the screams we were hearing further up the path as they approached, we knew we would have some fun with them. The young man held the young woman as they exited the dark Elm St. entrance to be greeted by my scream and search for warm brains. She screamed trying desperately to hurry by, then became frightened by the Gothic doll. Still paying attention to us behind her, she was completely unprepared to deal with the casket creature jumping out of the casket at her, and fell backward and into a tree before getting up and running full speed up the path. Man-Friend was bent over laughing and snorting, casket creature remained on his knees removing his mask as he gasped for air through the uncontrollable laughter, and I fell to the path laughing hysterically.
 
 
Worse still, some demented parent brought in his 7 year old daughter who all but cried the whole way through yelling, "I'm just a kid, I'm just a kid!" every time something jumped out at her. The mother in me wanted to protect her since her asshole father was laughing too hard to even walk correctly (and I'm pretty sure I smelled piss as he walked by), but alas, I am an asshole. After all, daddy's paid good money to see her terrified. I mean, much like Amusement parks where parents bring their kids, watch them become terrified, and are themselves amused, we were there to provide a service. I put on my best scream and grab yelling, "I Love Little Girl Brains!!" while running my hand through her hair with her yelling "Don't touch me!", then trying desperately to get past creepy Gothic doll, but was stopped dead in her tracks as the hideous casket creature jumped out of the casket blocking her path. The color drained from her face and in rapid succession the little girl kicked the creature four times before making her escape. I swear, I almost peed on myself I laughed so hard.
 
 
Speaking of peeing (don't act surprised I'm gonna go there), did I mention alcohol? For this occasion our coolers were filled with beer, lots of beer, which means lots of peeing. There are no bathrooms in the woods. That being said, each lady participating had scoped out spots closest to our station where the creepy lighting and strobe lights failed to reach and which were out of sight (and hopefully sound) of the other creatures of the forest. I had just such a spot and after watching the little girl kick the crap out of casket creature yelling "I'M JUST A KID!" I had to run in search of it. I tell Man-Friend (for the case of this blog the creepy Gothic doll) what I'm doing, barely get my britches down and his flashlight comes on! Are you fucking kidding me! "Man-Friend!" I yell hoping he'll sense the desperation in my voice and kill the light...but no...thinking I'm calling him to me, he shines light in my direction approaching me. I struggle to get my pants up, while still in a squatting position before standing up and showing my ass to all the monsters in the forest. Yeah, I guess if you looked at the pic above it wasn't like someone was gonna get turned on just from seeing my ass in the woods, but still! Can't a monster girl piss in the woods in privacy?
 
 
OK, back on point, ours was just one station in a long, well done trail of horrors. There was a cemetery veiled in fog swarming with hideous monsters and zombies coming toward the walkers on the trail as strobe lights made maneuvering challenging.

As hikers hurriedly left the cemetery, they are shocked as a 12 foot monster blocks their path and a gun shot fills the air. Screams could be heard throughout the forest as they run through a barrage of these characters in desperate search of the exit. Now I mentioned at the beginning that these were my friends. Allow me to introduce you! The pic above:  The daughter of my handyman by day, chainsaw massacring friend by night (the butcher a potential suitor, but I assure you, his blade is no match for the chainsaw of her father should he misbehave).


Speaking of her chainsaw massacring father, the handyman by day likes disassembling body parts by night.


The white faced vixen is her mother. The two creepers behind her our good buddies, and the only thing standing between the chainsaw and the daughter's potential suitor (as I'd be too busy capturing it on film!)


This is just a little innocent foreplay!


She worked so hard keeping our chainsaw friend away from his daughters potential butcher that she was just zombified!

Not all hikers made it through the forest with dry panties, some fell, some hit, one even hugged me and wouldn't let me go in the confines of the dark entrance to Elm Street (I guess it had been a while and any ghoul would do). Some screamed, some laughed, some cried, some ran...fast. One thing that was consistent through it all? The things that went bump in the night (our beer drinking, feel good, asshole selves) did a lot of laughing at others expenses...and will be doing it again this weekend.

All joking and monstering aside, this haunted forest is a fundraiser for a local motorcycle group that uses funds raised during the year to buy Christmas presents for underprivileged children in the area, as well as assist with any other issues our community's children may be in need of during the year. What better excuse is there to have such a frighteningly ghoulish time?
The DudeWrite Dance is actually a contest where the normally dudes only man cave allows us ladies in to dust out the cobwebs, puff up the bean bag chairs, vacuum up the cheesepuff crumbs and throw away the pizza boxes and beer bottles...oh, and we'll let some of our friends read your silly little thoughts if you do.  All kidding aside, it's a huge honor and a contest, so get your butts over there and read the other talented ladies being allowed to visit the man cave this weekend.  Vote for your three favorite...and by three, I mean two others and me!
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Monday, September 17, 2012

Porn Patio and The Jerk Room

I know you guys are wondering if I'd fallen off the map, died, been kidnapped and subjected to unspeakable sexual acts as surely that's what it would take to keep me from blogging for such a long period of time and such tragedy it would take to keep me away from all of the blogs that I love and follow, but rest assured, I am alive and safe (but say nothing about the unspeakable sexual acts...yet).  In my last post I mentioned that I was entering into a new business venture.  It was not something that I had really planned to do, especially not at this time, but getting laid off from my job presented a "now or never" type of opportunity.  I am now a beef jerky making fool.  I've been trying to think of a catch phrase, and kinda like "Nobody Jerks Your Meat Like Me!"  Too much?  Yeah, I might get asked regular how much it would take for them to find out, and since I'm not a prostitute (though I'm not hating on the ones who get paid for what the rest of us give away for free), I better keep thinking.  In entering this new venture, I've transformed a room in my home to make production more streamlined.


As boring as this may seem and as upsetting to my home environment and financial stability as this has proved, life and living have happened and given me a few things I felt obligated to share with you.  First, I must give a little photographic background.
 
This is my back patio and part of the yard.
This is Woody, guardian of the patio.
Many of the best and craziest times come from this space.  Oh if Woody could talk!  (I'd probably be arrested, or be hounded by porn producers wanting me to star in their next movies, etc.)  You guys probably remember how recently photographic proof of my exploits ended up in the hands of the local police, and now the whole police department knows what I look like wearing nothing but a beer and a thong, but that's a whole other story
 
I decided to quit giving into my fear of relationships and how bad I suck at them and decided to get real with Man-Friend.
You remember Mr. Happy Pants Morning Person.
About a week ago, we had some friends over and were sitting around the patio round table, discussing all sorts of topics.  I'm not sure how the topic of reincarnation came up, but Mr. Happy Pants looks at us all dead seriously and says, "When I die, I hope I'm reincarnated as Blondie's patio!"  I about spit my drink out my nose, which would have been really bad cause I had a pretty high octane drink and would probably have scarred my sinuses for life.  Fortunately my sinuses were spared.  This got me thinking about all the things that Woody could testify to if he could talk.
 
Despite my own propensity to get naked and freaky on the patio, I am not the only one who gets some action in the back yard.  I mean lets take Woody for example.  Woody's got back, and by back I mean he's got several butt shaped formations on the back side of the tree.
 
 
Whatever your personal butt preference, he's got it.  Big butt, little butt, wide butt, he's got them all.  Enter alcohol and horny men here.
 


Since there is a lot of alcohol drank around the round table, Woody gets a lot of action.  But Woody's not the only one who was getting action on the porn patio this past week.  I have a whole new view on the term "doggie style".
 
I know, you're thinking "No she did not just go there!", but yes I did.
For a week, every time I turned around these two were going at it.  I did not know doggie style could be done in so many different positions!  Needless to say, I'm gonna be having puppies soon.  Well, I'm not, but the other yard slut will be.  Then add all the damn bugs getting laid.
 
 
I mean, it's like EVERYTHING around me is getting freaky!  A little side note about these horny pests, did you know that they remain coupled for three days before dying.  Well, mother fudgesnapper!  If I was fucking for three days straight, I'd probably die too!
 
Speaking of getting freaky, it doesn't only happen on the back patio.  In keeping up with my crazy last week, I went to a couple of the local pubs selling beef jerky (and drinking copious amounts of alcohol).  It was kinda late on a weeknight when we walked into the second pub and the place was a little dead.  We spotted a couple friends at the bar, sat down and began chatting.  Somehow we got on the topic of feet.  I know some people hate feet or are turned off by them, but there are nerve endings in the feet that go to EVERY part of your body.  Men, if you wanna turn a woman on, get good at rubbing her feet, and find out where the nerve endings are in HER feet that provide vaginal stimulation.  I assure you it's there.  That's when it happened, the local pub became host to it's first foot orgy.
 
 
What?  This doesn't happen at your local pub?
 
Freak flags aside, I'm sorry I've been MIA and I promise I will soon be in a rhythm and back to writing regular and visiting all your blogs again.  I truly miss all the laughs your blogs provide me.  Please be patient with me as I get this new business going, and manage to live a life worth sharing with you.