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Friday, March 23, 2012

Brain Tickling, Nose Picking, Prius Driver

About a week ago, after a long days work, I stopped at a drive through to pick up dinner before heading home.  While riding home through town, I approached a stop light and noticed a blue Prius with out of town tags in the next lane. 

As I pulled up beside this wimpy looking little car, I couldn’t help but notice the good looking man driving it.  Several thoughts went through my head in the span of a few seconds.  Despite having the Justin Moore song “Bait A Hook” playing on the radio (which could have been written about this obviously eco-conscious hottie) I found myself wondering if his good looks were enough to overlook the fact that he was driving a Prius.  I was about to look up Henry County (the county on his tag) to see how geographically inconvenient he was when it happened…Mr. Eco-Conscious Hottie picked his nose.   

You might be asking yourself, what’s the big deal?  I mean, people pick their noses every day, right?  Well yes, but NOT like this man was doing.  He stuck his finger in his nose so deep I swear if there was anything on the end of it when he pulled it out, it wouldn’t have been boogers, but brain matter.  I cringed and told myself to look away, but instead sat there unable to look away in morbid amazement as I watched him massage his brain.  It wasn’t a quick dig and pick, but a long whole arm moving affair.  I went between wanting to honk the horn and throw a box of Kleenex at his car (though I was afraid I’d break the window of the tiny thing if I did) and wondering what part of his brain he was rubbing?  Maybe he was rubbing the part that controlled his penis and was masterbating through his nose…I wouldn’t want to disturb him in the middle, though he might appreciate the Kleenex in a couple minutes.  The light was taking forever to change, and this man kept his finger up his nose, rotating it right, then left, then right again.

Just when I thought this guy surely couldn’t stand much more brain manipulating, he used his free hand to adjust his mirror and started watching himself pick his nose.  OH MY GOD!!!  Do you think you’re fucking invisible in that car?  Do you not realize that there are people all around you, at least one of whom is WATCHING you massage your brain through your nose?  I mean, MY GOD!!!  And what was he looking for in the mirror?  Did he have some rogue booger he was pursuing…Some booger playing hop scotch with his finger, saying “You can’t catch me finger! Hahahaha” (Oh wait, those are just MY boogers that do that).  But SERIOUSLY…get your freaking finger out of your nose!

The light finally changed and I punched the gas, leaving the little Prius and the brain tickling driver behind.  I also realized that it didn’t matter how geographically inconvenient he was or what he drove because I was no longer thinking of him as a hottie…to me he would always be the guy who masterbates through his nose.

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Thursday, March 22, 2012

The Sh** I Don't Get Done Because My Life Gets In The Way

My house is a pig sty.  It’s positively horrible.  While I’m sure the laundry is in baskets, I seem to have lost the baskets (or maybe the clothes have eaten them).  My floors are in serious need of cleaning and are beginning to make this squishy sticky sound when you walk on them with soft soled shoes, and between the pollen and the dust, my pictures now look out of focus. 
I need this sign for my front door!
Why, you ask?  Because my life doesn’t stand still long enough for me to catch up (and because I’m irresponsible, selfish and lazy; use whichever excuse you prefer).  I really do want to have a spotless house, but my damn life keeps getting in the way!
Can I get an AMEN?  This makes me feel so much better about myself!
I am a working single mother of two children.  I enjoy being part of my kids lives and participating in the things they enjoy and are active in. I love to bring a camera and document every cool experience they have.  I also like to do volunteer work at times as it helps me deceive myself into thinking I am an unselfish person giving back to my community.  Despite working full time, having two children with their various extracurriculars, I have a very active social life separate and independent from my children.  Sometimes, however, all these different facets which make up the complete diamond that is my life, leave little time to handle the shit that simply won’t handle itself.  Hell, I barely have any time for sleep.

In the past week alone, aside from working full time and having to make sure kids are fed and educated, I have had the following activities: 1) Volunteered at a Red Cross Blood Drive; 2) Attended a sex toy party (Read all about it!); 3) Chaperoned a school field trip for my daughter;
I got to ride the short bus.  I felt so special!

4) Went to a St. Patty’s day bonfire;  5) Took my son out to dinner for a little quality time; 6) Had dinner with my out of town Aunt who was passing through town; 6) Went to play pool with my man friend (and Jose’…how I love him); 7) Took son to tutor twice; and 7) Sang Karaoke with several friends (and Jose’). 

Did I mention I work full time?  When the hell am I supposed to get housework and laundry done?  I mean, these things were WAY more fun than cleaning! (I know I’m immature and irresponsible…I’ll own it.)
The Jetsons
The Jetsons (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
When I was young, I used to love the cartoon, “The Jetsons”.  I dreamed of the day that we’d have flying cars and robot maids.  As I walked through my pig sty of a house this morning, I found myself angry that I didn’t have a Rosie the Robot maid (Damn you Jetsons for giving me false hope as a child of a future with no housework!) 
Then I thought, why settle for a Rosie?  With all the technological and biological advances of the day, I want a clone…another me to handle all the shit I don’t have time or desire to handle myself.   I’d give clone Blondie my to-do list and head off to the life that prevents me from  having the empty laundry baskets, sparkling floors and dust free book shelves and picture frames I desire.  Sweeping and mopping, check!  Dusting, check!  Yard work, check!  Laundry, double CHECK!!!  It would be awesome!  But then if it was really a clone of ME, in no time she’d be so busy, SHE’D need a clone.  Before you know it, there’d be like 10 clones and the house would still be a pig sty.  Then there’s the real question…could the world handle two (much less 10) of me?  My family and friends would probably shutter at the very idea. 
No, the world is NOT ready for more of me!
So with no robot maid or clone around to do the shit that I have neglected to do this week, I suppose I’m gonna have no choice but to tell the rest of the world to fuck off for a weekend, get some sleep and clean my own damn house.  Damn you Jetsons!

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Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Dueling Dildo Defeat

Fridays I usually only work half a day, which is great because it allows me to get things done that I don’t usually have time for during the week, but this Friday I was scheduled to volunteer at a Red Cross Blood Drive and attend a Pure Romance party with girlfriends afterwards. I left work about 1:30, went to the bank and headed over to get ready for the blood drive. I worked there until a little after 5, then had to rush back to town to buy tickets I was supposed to get two weeks ago (sorry Auntie, but you know if it weren’t for last minute, I wouldn’t get a damn thing done!) before the selling business closed. I made it with only about a minute and thirty seconds to spare. It was now after 5:30 and while my kids had activities for the evening, I needed to get them fed before hand, and I was now running behind for my next obligation. I hurriedly rush through the Wendy’s drive-thru, rush home, throw the food on the table, run a brush through my hair, and I’m off to my next event.

In case you’ve never heard of a Pure Romance party, it is basically a sex toy and lingerie party, usually attended only by women. At this particular party there were plenty of appetizers, and lots of alcohol in the form of various jello shots and tequila balls to get everyone loosened up. Then the games begin. Games include things such as an addition and subtraction of points based on sexual experiences to give you your kink score (mine wasn’t the highest, but it wasn’t too shabby either!); a suck and blow relay race where two lines are formed and jello shots in containers which open on both sides must be past down the line; and my personal favorite…pass the double headed dildo using only your legs, done music musical chairs style.

Just imagine 20 women standing in a circle…the music comes on, the double headed dildo hangs from between the first woman’s legs, as she swings to face the opposite direction then swings it upward using only her legs and thrusts of her hips (touching with hands disqualifies); the woman next to her quickly trying to capture it between her thighs, then swing around to pass it to the woman on her other side. Because this double headed dildo is so long and floppy, in order to pass it and the recipient to catch it above the knees as the rules require, each person passing must sling it up, and the person receiving must spread their legs and bend down then snap their legs shut at just the right time. However, neither wants to be the one holding it when the music stops. When the music stops, the woman who’s thighs contain the dildo is disqualified, the circle tightens and the cycle continues. Faster and faster, more and more frantically these alcohol loosened women try not be caught with the dildo in their possession when the music turns off, sometimes causing someone to drop it or touch it with their hands…oops, they are out too. The game continues until it is down to only two people. Who might you ask were these two unfortunate souls who are in the show down dildo battle? You guessed it…me and another blondie.
And it can be yours for the bargain price of $29.00!

Now all eyes are on us. The other blondie and I facing each other in a sort of vertical missionary position,thrusting the dildo back and forth in frantic, exaggerated motions…back and forth, back and forth, the dildo swinging from my thighs to her thighs, with all the onlookers laughing their asses off…then the music stops...and the dildo hangs from my legs. I drop my head in dildo defeat and then commence to drown myself in more alcohol!

After suffering my dildo defeat, we all sit in a semi-circle and begin passing around all sorts of fun things; small button size vibrating devises, incognito lipstick looking pleasure bringers, big who needs a man vibrators, tasty warming lubricants, throat numbing gels (lmao…that one still gets me…they’ve thought of everything!!), massage oils and candles. Because this is a hands and mouth on experience, we are tasting the tastable gels, rubbing the non tastables on our arms, smelling the smellables, playing with the power settings of the various vibrating contraptions of sensual satisfaction. I even had a conversation with a dildo which had a face on it, and unlike a man, it didn’t talk back or argue! I think it was love at first sight!

What, might you ask, did I buy?  None of your business!  That shall remain a secret as a woman's toy drawer is sacred, known only to her and her playmate...and the 20+ other women that are there when she fills it.

Friday, March 16, 2012

And the Liebster Award Goes To...

Having had only a few hours sleep the night before, yesterday was a very long day.  All day I found myself thinking of how neglected my bed pillows have been this week, and how I planned to make up for it last night.  Despite being super busy dealing with dumbasses all day at work and wishing that there was some sort of aptitude test that could be given to individuals before they were given a voice box, the day drug on and on.  The clock ticked slowly, and then slower still; the sound almost hypnoticly causing a fluttery dance between my upper and lower eyelid as I struggled to keep them apart.  When the work day was finally coming to an end I had visions of going home and engaging in some quality drool time with my pillows, but my mother and a friend hijacked my evening requiring me to come eat Mexican food and drink margaritas (I know, it’s a tough life).  By the time I got home, put kids to bed, and took a minute to sit down and unwind, I was seriously battling fatigue.
Once again my pillows were calling my name, one saying “Blondie, come let me hold your head in a tender embrace as you drift off to sleep.”  My leg pillow saying, “You know how you love me between your legs.” I was clearly hearing them in my head, but was disturbed by the chiming of my phone with an email of a new comment to my blog from Roe (I LOVE comments). 

My spirits were lifted and I was refreshed when I discovered that Roe, incredibly funny author of the blog “My Upside Down Life”, had given me the Liebster Award in her pick of 5 favorite bloggers.  Yay me!  So today, feeling extremely honored, I am charged with accepting the award and passing it to five of my favorite bloggers.

I would like to thank Roe for bestowing on me such a fabulous honor, and for lifting my spirits after an otherwise long day.    Roe is a kindred spirit who’s blogs always bring me smiles and laughter.  I love her observational humor about everyday life and her quirky, sometimes smartass take on it. 

The Liebster Award is meant to be given to bloggers with less than 200 followers.  In passing the torch, I’ve been thinking and reading all morning and I pass the Liebster Award to the following bloggers:

RachRiot.  Rach is a fabulous person with a great sense of humor.  I’ve yet to read anything she’s written that I don’t find myself laughing aloud and sharing with my friends and family.

Because Nobody Likes Mondays.  Heather is very awesomely funny, and you don’t have to enter a damn captcha to comment (I hate those things)!

Who Woulda Thought.  Kevin is a 34 year old man, and in addition to being funny, has a great way allowing me to see things from a man’s perspective.

The Incoherent Ramblings of aMoose.  I just discovered this blog, but it is already becoming one of my favorites as I swear when I read her blog, I wonder if there’s a camera in my house and she’s writing about my life, or if our sons are identical twins by different parents.

Two Too Smart, SmartassMommies.  Another blog that always makes me laugh.

To the newest award recipients, you are charged with the following duties in accepting your award:

Accept your award, thank the person that gave it to you and link back to them on your blog

Nominate 5 other blogs

Leave a comment on their blog telling them about the award

Post the award on your blog

Thursday, March 8, 2012

Diarrhea of The Mouth

I realized today that I could really use something between my brain and my mouth, that will stop me from saying half the half the shit I say…a mouth governor of sorts.  A little filter that turns me mute when my brain thinks something completely rude, sarcastic or inappropriate (though admittedly, that would mean I’d be mute A LOT!)  I guess you could say I have diarrhea of the mouth.  If I think it, I’m probably going to say it, and even worse, I’m probably going to find myself entertaining and not change it without an intervention, such as a mouth governing filter.  Here are a few examples of times I probably would have been mute so far this week, with a few humorous conversations thrown in.

Random shit I've said this week, with or without thinking:

The only thing he’s sick with is dumbass disease.

 Don’t look at me in that tone of voice.

 You get called an asshole a lot, don’t you? (Is this the same thing as calling him and asshole?  Hmmmm.)

I am a homosexual man, trapped in this body.

The most successful intimate relationship I’ve had has been with my dildo.

If I wanted to hear from an asshole, I’d fart.

You’re so full of shit your eyes are brown.

I’m not your type…I’ve got a brain.

Don’t think of yourself as short…just vertically challenged.

They’re either fucking or fighting, but can’t make up their minds about which they want to do when.

Conversations with or about my kids:

Me and my 11 year old son after he heard me refer to a very yummy food as a mouth-gasm on the phone:

Son: MOM!!!  You said orgasm!
Me: No I didn’t.  I said mouth-gasm.
Son: NO YOU DIDN’T!!! You said ORGASM!
Me: Son, you wouldn’t know an orgasm if it jumped up and squirted you in the eye!

Yes, I’m waiting on my mother of the year award any day now.

Son: Can I sleep with you tonight?
Me: No.
Son: Please?
Me: No
Son: Pretty please?  Can I please sleep with you?
Me:  No, now go to bed.
Son: (As he walks down the hall with slumped shoulders, puppy in hand, he stops, turns around, glares at me, then says to the puppy) See that woman?  I know you love her, but she’s not mama…she’s a mean blonde headed monster. (Well thank you for noticing, son)

After an argumentative phone call with my son about going to his tutor
Friend: Don’t you love kids? (sarcasm noted)
Me: Yeah…I’d love to drown them!

(For some reason I still haven’t gotten that mother of the year award.  Maybe it will be in the mail tomorrow.)

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Monday, March 5, 2012

Morning People Beware

While I tend to be a pretty easy going person, there are a couple things that I absolutely hate and that turn me into a grumpy bitch.  In the top three of that list are Mondays and mornings, but number one would be morning people.  Folgers commercials really urk me, especially today, since it’s both Monday AND morning, and their commercials are filled with morning people.  UUUUGGGGG!!

As I was on my way to work, I found myself thinking of the Folgers commercial where everyone starts dancing thinking, I dare someone to burst out in spontaneous dance singing, “The best part of waking up, is Folgers in your cup.” I’d steal their coffee, make them fall on their face, and jump on their backs with my high heeled shoes. Damn morning people!  Then realizing that it’s hard to trip someone and steal their coffee while driving, I decided I’d just run them over yelling, “There’s no Folgers in your cup now, mf’er! Ah Ha Ha Ha Ha”  Ok, Maybe I’m a little diabolical in my thinking, I thought briefly as I arrived at work. This is until, while looking for the Folgers dancing commercial, I found this (Commercial doesn’t really begin for about 12 seconds):

Oh my freaking gosh!  My favorite part of the whole commercial is when the dog growls at the sinister yellow, morning person.  I found myself hoping the dog would bite her.  Since I know I am not alone in my morning bitchitis, if these creepers went on a morning Folgers campaign there would be loads of dead yellow people littering the world. 

I could just imagine being the couple sleeping in bed when some random creeper decked in yellow with an overly chipper demeanor appears in my room, mere inches from my face, singing “Happy Morning!!! Happy Morning!!!  Wake up you sleepy head, you can sleep when you are dead!”  Oh hell no!  I can sleep when YOU are dead.  Meet my pistol.  Officer I swear it was self defense.  I woke up and he was in my bedroom serenading me.  I thought he was a rapist or serial killer.   

Or what about the sinister yellow dudes spying through the sky light on the guy taking a shower, then you see their hands coming down around him?  Are you freaking kidding me!?  Having that many hands around my naked body might be fun in some sort of kink session, but we’re talking about mornings here, and those hands are in serious danger of being severed from the bodies they’re attached to.  I’d then use their severed limbs to beat the barrage of sinister yellow morning people milling around the roads harassing the morning grumps.

So to all you morning people out there…be kind to the morning grumps and keep your chipper morning attitudes to yourself.  Remember that there are people out there, much like myself, who will hate you just for not hating mornings.  These people, suffering from morning bitchitis, are capable of things you’d never think them capable of in their normally chipper selves.  If you absolutely must burst out into spontaneous song or dance with your coffee…drink your coffee at home...with your blinds drawn, because you never know when we’ll be looking to mow some chipper person down with our cars or massage their back with our spiked heels, just for being chipper.

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