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Sunday, February 28, 2010

Not Trying To Hurt Your Feelings Or Anything, But Really..

All of my life I have heard people spouting these pointless little platitudes, hell, I've been guilty of doing it myself. During a conversation with a good friend earlier today we were mocking one such old saying and afterwards I couldn't help but spend some time thinking about the ignorance behind so many of them. Fundamentally breaking them down in my weakened mental state. So, here we go.

The grass is always greener on the other side. Okay, clearly this is meant as a warning to us that we shouldn't want what others have since just because we think what is over there is better doesn't make it so. Hey, dumbshits who still use this saying, we don't want their fucking grass. Well, I should rephrase, most of us don't covet anyone else's grass and if it's grass someone covets, they probably want it already dried and weighed. So, this saying is outdated, at best. Second, if your life is so shitty that you're sitting around envying someone elses proverbial grass, then yeah, their fucking grass probably is greener, so get off your ass and fertilize your own grass, for fuck's sake people, how long do you have to read this blog to realize Wickedness only comes when you stop feeling sorry for yourself and MAKE things happen. *dramatic sigh* Moving on.

Be careful what you wish for or you might get it. So, just to be clear on this, don't wish for herpes or you just might get it. Are we clear on that? Good. Seriously though. What.The.Fuck. I mean, who sits around wishing for something so detrimental that the minute they get it they go, "Whoa, this isn't what I signed up for, no, no, take it back please"? I have yet to meet that person. In general, the people I meet who made their wishes come true feel a sense of pride and fulfillment. Call me crazy, but I think this saying is bullshit.

Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. That sounds like a great idea. After all, we all want to be closely surrounded by people we know dislike us, right? Ill will and discord abound constantly. What better way to live our lives? How about we go with "keep your friends close and forget your enemies exist"? Yes, I like that much better. What the hell is an enemy anyway, don't those only exist in spy movies??!!

A watched pot never boils. Maybe this saying was made up before the existence of basic physics?? Whatever the case may be, let's try to decipher what the basic idea is behind the saying. I am working with it as, leave things be and they will develop as they should, but if you sit over them and fuss, you interfering will stop the natural progression. Yes? (I am seeing in my fuzzy little brain a collection of nodding heads) Right, so, here's the thing, the fucking pot is going to boil whether you watch or not, if something is meant to happen, it will happen whether you are there or not. Don't believe me, go boil some fucking water. Don't move, stare at that bitch the whole time, guess what? It's going to boil anyway!

Money can't buy happiness. Stop shopping at Walmart. Because one trip to Tiffany's will so change your mind. Bloomingdales makes my heart sing. Just seeing Jimmy Choo's updated seasonal info in my inbox makes me giggle. Trust me, it may not be love, but money can so buy happy!! You simply haven't been shopping in the right places.

I want to let you know that starting this Wednesday I will be doing Wicked Fun Wednesdays!! Submit a Wicked good question through the formspringme box in the right column, I will select 10 questions for the Wednesday post. I promise to make the answers worth coming to see. ;-) You just have to make them worthy of me choosing. Hope you are up to the challenge my Wicked readers.

Saturday, February 27, 2010

I Hit My Head.........

No, seriously, I fell and hit my fucking head. So, to set the scene, joining friends and family for dinner at a nice restaurant last night. Gathered for a few pre-dinner drinks. I behaved myself and stuck to 2 very small, very slow paced glasses of wine.

Arrived for dinner, I stuck with wine, (a super delicious Riesling, by the way, yuummmmyyy) had some bread, sipped slowly, enjoyed the company, had a delicious meal, then decided to step out on the patio for fresh air and to pollute my lungs with a Wicked bit of nicotine (the horror).

I was joined outside by a couple who walked over and positioned themselves directly in front of me in such a way that it was impossible not to either speak or split them like a linebacker and make a run for it. My mind is still a tiny fuzzy but here is a go at it:

Me: Hi
She: Hi there, you from here?
Me: Yes, this general area. You guys?
He: No, we're just down for the day from Indy, going home tomorrow.
Me: Nice, business?
He: No, just came down for dinner and stuff. (at this point She looks at He as if to call Bullshit, then turns her gaze back to me, serious tension and She is seriously d-r-u-n-k)
She: Actually, we came down here to make twins. (now He is looking at She like he wants to slap a bitch)
Me: Yeah, I never could conceive in Indy either (ok, not my best, but these are total fucking strangers playing out their fucking drama after cornering me WTF!! I'm just trying to lighten the tone a little)
She: Oh, it's not that, he just needs a little help.
Me: (wince) Well, good luck with all that, I'm going to get in out of this cold, ya'll enjoy the rest of your trip. (forced smile)
He: Thanks, sorry.

Now is where it gets just super fucking fabulous, as he moves so I can step over to the ashtray, I have to take an awkward step to maneuver between him and a concrete pillar. In doing so, the heel of my shoe got caught in a crack and, yep, you guessed it..........I fucking went down. Only I didn't just fall a little, I hit my head so hard on the fucking concrete that I was disoriented. Call me Brett Favre, we can relate now, talk football and concussions. Holy hell.

At first I was just concerned about my shoe. Duh! Were you expecting something else? But, it was fine. Then I realized my knee really hurt. Which made sense, because it looks worse than my head. But, I really don't think it can be blamed for the sudden overwhelming need to sleep, or the waves of nausea that followed. The inability to remember or explain what had happened. The whole thing was made worse by the fact that everyone with me was intoxicated and thought I was just drunk. Ummm, hello, I can't drink that much anymore because of my meds!!!

So, yeah, I spent the night hoping that I wasn't going to die because I wasn't really sure if you can die from a concussion but I couldn't remember what my neurologist's name was or find my phone so I figured it was just a matter of hope and luck. It also occurred to me at one point in the wee hours of the morning during a round of nausea that severe blows to the head are of more significance to epileptics, I am almost certain I saw that on his office walls one time, when I was really bored and reading those posters. Fucking posters.

The good news is, I can now feel the pain of the lovely lump on my forehead, can almost walk a straight line, and I remember most of the small details and all of the major details of last night. Survival baby!! Wicked rough night. Also, the woman on the patio at the restaurant, can you say, COUNSELING???!!!! Hope your weekend is going a hellluva lot better than mine!!!

Thursday, February 25, 2010

Isn't That Lovely...........

As time flows through my fingers I wonder still when I will wake up and no longer feel the wonderment of your love surrounding me. Will the day come when I no longer feel the presence of your imprint inside my chest, there, on my heart, where I feel it will always be, maybe has always been, just waiting for you to find the proper place? Certainly this won't be the case, you are the embodiment of all that I dream to hold as I am for you. A time went by, was it long ago, or just days, when I didn't dare to think of an existence of one such as you. Settle, isn't that what they say, no time to find that One. There isn't even such a thing. Then you came passing along and I scoffed at the idea. Moved on to better things?

Life had other ideas for me, that tricky bitch that life can be for us. Then in her own time, life made us one. You and I. Life got in the way of better laid plans, as she does. Whirlwinds and earth shattering events took note of our joining. We gave them no choice, the force with which we joined was neither quiet nor calm. No, ours was to be taken note of by all, money was laid on tables, voices were raised in protest, guns were presented.

Our world shut them out, pushed them back, the two of us learned to be we and we became unstoppable. A love that shall be burned in minds, should be written of in great literature. Alas, this must suffice.

In this time of your birthday, this time of our original coming together, in this time of my first gift of creation to you, I give you this, another gift of my own work.

The Seven Deadly Relationship Sins.....

Oh, sure, there are more than seven, but let's think baby steps now, boys and girls. I like to break things down Barney style for ya' don't ya know, so we will take these nice and easy. I will skip the picture of the great purple one tonight, because, well, honestly, I just feel a little queasy and I don't feel like seeing his big purple ass. Let's get this rolling, shall we.....

1)Jealousy- Oh, sure, we all know jealousy is bad. At some point you have proclaimed from a friends dining room table or a Starbucks in Notown, US that you aren't jealous of the guy/girl who is in the office, you merely think he/she is a slutbag and does a shitty job. Therefore doesn't deserve to work in the same breathing space as your beloved. Riiiiiight. Of course. This just happened to coincide with your new gym membership, haircut, wardrobe, perfume.......

Jealousy looks to both the males and females of our species alot like Freddy Kreuger. No matter how attractive you were, you become one horrifying person once you go all green-eyed monster on someone. Guys and girls alike, the possessive thing is not cute, it is not endearing. If I have a stalker, then maybe I want you to be watching out, but really, I will probably just call the cops. (unless it's just A Vapid Blonde, then I will throw open the curtains and dance) Being on 24/7 guard for people who may be checking out your lovah, then getting all hyperventilation-y is a)shit for fun as far as the couples who are out with you goes, you will get 0 social points b) pretty fucking stupid as far as sex radar goes, who wants to be out with the only person irradiating no sexual vibes whatsofuckingever?? Uh, hello? Where does that lead when you get home? A back rub? Puuulease! So, welcome to the new world, where we run full service relationships, we communicate, we please and tease and love and play and feel secure enough to let them go all the way across the playground without a fucking leash on. Then, we bat our baby blues at them and they follow us home!

2) Sloth- I don't care how long you have been together, shower, shave and shampoo your ass (figuratively, not literally, well, the shower part is literal, and the shave too, I guess, if absolutely necessary, eeeewww) on a regular basis. What. The. Fuck. Okay, right, he thinks it's real sexy when the hair on your legs can be braided and tied around his waist. NOT! Take care of that stubble shit you have growing off your face, dude, if you ever want near my sensitive little vagina again. She is not a fan of 10 o'clock "I can't be bothered to shave before I dine down there" shadow! Fuck that! Let us be kind, one to another and to ourselves as well. Our bodies being temples and what have you. Clean and decorate the temple, oh I'm not saying hire a cleaning service and an in interior decorator or bring in a whole crew to do an all out redecoration, damn, do a little general upkeep on yourself.

3) Greed- Now, I know you are aware that money can be the ruin of many relationships, which I am certain must be true. This is not what I am talking about in this 3rd sinspot, no this is greed as it relates to all things consolidated. Greed of the soul. The kind of greed when it's all about ME. This is an unappealing trait in one's mate, in every way, really. The me-centric individual is a horrible partner. Me-centric people are terrible lovers, no explanation necessary here. Me-centric people are bad communicators, the minute the conversation changes focus from them, they begin to yawn and nod off. They are great fun at parties, but, so are whores until it's time to go home. There is really no positive use for a me-centric person in a relationship. If you find yourself in a relationship with a me-centric individual, you fucked up, they must be incredibly hot and you must be terribly shallow. Evaluate yourself and exit the relationship.

4) Lust- Lust for one's partner is a beautiful and necessary thing. Lust for others in an abstract sense is an unavoidable way. Lust that you pursue ad nauseum while in what one partner thinks is a committed relationship is a deadly relationship sin. You did know this, right? You didn't actually think you got to play by different rules because you became hotter than your partner, or because your sex drive somehow increased or your partners decreased? Your aware that this doesn't excuse bad relationship behavior, right? Are you shaking your head no? Really? Lean closer? Let me slap the fuck out of you. Have you been reading those stupid fucking blogs about how it's okay to cheat if you aren't getting it at home? Well, STOP!! Because guess what? It's not! Lust is natural, lust is beautiful! Lust is fucking hottt! Acting on it every time somebody winks at you is fucking pathetic once your committed. Get help. No one should need that much EGO stroking. Basically, you've killed your relationship and one day you will wake to the realization that your a lousy human being too. Oh, wait, you don't have to wait, I just let you in on the secret!!

5) Gluttony- Being in a relationship does not mean life has become a free ticket to the open buffet. You know what I'm saying here? I mean it! Guys, girls, don't do it. Superficial or not, Chances are good that if you weren't 300 pounds when you got married, your personality will change as you grow into one. You will start to feel differently about yourself. Then, as you cry to your friends about the lack of love your getting and how he/she only loved you for your looks, none of them will have the balls to tell you that maybe it's the crumbs on your clothing, the depression, the lack of self confidence, etc. So, step away from the buffet. NOW, damnit!!

6) Lying(duh!)- No lying. (ya know how they say "Jesus wept" is the shortest sentence in the Bible? That always stuck with me, well, this is the shortest paragraph on my blog, let it stick with you, I'm not a religious practitioner, but damnit, I remember that Jesus wept, so, when your finished reading this, you better fucking remember, NO LYING)

7) Wrath- Wrath sounds like a great word, it sounds powerful. It sounds....ohhhhh, it sounds very Alpha. Yeah, that's it. That must be why it sucks! hehehe Wrath brings to mind some angry, red faced guy standing on top of something shaking his fist. Not pretty. Especially not in a relationship context. Wrath is bad, that's my mantra. In every relationship a little anger will fall. But wrath is a whole different beast. Wrath crosses a line. It escalates things. Shouting and throwing things. Physical violence and emotional abuses take place when wrath is involved. Not just at the hand of a man, women are capable, after all the phrase "hell hath no fury..." didn't just appear one day out of the blue. A woman is capable of wrathful behavior, oftentimes, women's wrathful behavior is more insidious because we use our minds and tongues to lash out rather than our physical presence. We like to leave scars that only your therapist will see. Wrath is perhaps inappropriate on this list, you say? By the time wrath enters, the relationship is ending. No, with communication and some work, love and effort, most relationships can be saved. When wrath enters the picture, communication is severed, the game becomes, who can hurt who most. Think "War of the Roses". Winning is no longer the object, beating your adversary is the key.

There we have it ladies and gents! The 7 deadlies! Not the only ones, of course. Maybe I missed some of the worst. Maybe not. I'm not a relationship counselor. I'm just a Wicked girrrl, writing her way through the darkness. So, how does a Wicked girrrrl know so much about so many things, you wonder? Well, after you leave today's fabulous comment(and I do love your comments!!!) go back up to the top of the page and type a question in the formspringme box. I feel oddly compelled to answer all of those silly little questions. Also, if you click on the link, you can see what others have asked me, it even shows my answers. ;)

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

I Would Do Them, Under Different Circumstances........

It's one of those night's where I just feel like looking at beautiful people. Ever have one of those. So, let me show you some of the people I find appealing. Not those stupid Maxim I Would Rape Her girls, or the People's Top 10 Sexiest Men Alive types. I don't think. No George Clooney or Brad Pitt on my list. I like my guys flawed, a little more real. I think Jennifer what's her name is pretty, but she's about as bright as the lamp by my bed that I keep forgetting to change the bulb in, which totally distracts me. I can't help it. I would buy one of those dolls if a brain was not required for me. Also, not to ruin the fantasy, but one of the different circumstances for the girls below would be if I were bi, which, I'm not, but hey, fantasize away. It's not for me to judge. ;)

Ever watch the show Bones? I really love David Boreanaz.

Gerard Butler, not Gerard Butler from 300 all oiled up and shouting indecipherable shit at the cameras. Nah, not feeling that. I'm more the Gerard Butler of Law Abiding Citizen, evil plotting genius kind of girl. Oh hell to the yeah.

David Duchovny, simply put: Californication. Sexual proclivities.

Jason Statham....and oh hot damn, the accent. Bonus points!!

Jimmy Fallon, shut your mouth. There is so much to be said for a guy who can make you laugh, plus he's a doll. So damn cute in that disheveled way. So, fuck off if you don't like it.

Okay, now for the ladies...........

Smoking hot and getting hotter by the day, Jennifer Aniston

Zooey Deschannel is super innocent looking, but something tells me those big eyes have some big secrets. I think she is really beautiful.

Pink is just plain fucking hot. She rocks a serious set of pipes and she is majorly acrobatic. Uhh, hello??!!

Now you have a little taste of the quirky people who I think are hotter than the average hot. Not really a post of boredom so much as a little insight into who I am without me giving you any actual information about me, which is what I almost posted about tonight. Some generic 10 Things You Don't Know About Me sort of thing. But as I started to type it, I realized how truly disinterested I was with sharing the minutia of my life with people who probably weren't interested in hearing it. So, instead, you got the hotness. You're welcome. Now, off to work or play or whatever it is you do after reading this lovely little cluttered page of mine.

I am off to crawl in bed next to someone who looks suspiciously similar to Jason Statham, and no, I promise I didn't do that on purpose. ;)

Monday, February 22, 2010

It's Not Just Me, Right?

Okay, I need some reassurance, here. Well, need is a rather strong word for it. I want some reassurance. No, that sounds wrong, too. I demand someone else bust down the fucking door and acknowledge that you can love your country and still not feel compelled to sit and watch this kind of shit.

First, let me be clear about the video I pulled, it is not the Olympic performance, because the couple watered down their costumes for the Olympics under pressure. Why? Because they were told their costumes might be offensive. No, dipshits, it was your lack of understanding of the people you were supposedly paying tribute to in your dance that was offensive to them. But, anyway, that is not why I posted this.

I am just saying, I am not a fan of the Winter Olympics. They look cold, I hate cold. I don't dislike cold, people. It's not a person, I'm not going to hurt it's feelings or burn in eternal damnation or some stupid shit like that for saying it. I am 100% comfortable in my deep hatred of the cold. I HATE HATE HATE HATE it. The longer it lasts, the more I hate it.

Then, in the middle of a horrible, snowy, nasty winter, NBC hijacks my fucking television with scenes of non-stop ice and snow. Are you kidding me? People are tweeting and emailing and blogging about skating and skiing and curling and hockey, hockey, HOCKEY???!!!!

Sometimes it is on in my house. One morning I was watching the Today show when I was accosted by Carrot Top, no, What. The. Fuck. That was an Olympic Gold Medalist. Oh yes, that damn snowboarder Shaun White, you little Carrot Top looking thing you. It is a good thing you are talented or you would never get laid.

More importantly, I was Facebook bombed by a private message, pointing out that it was patriotic to support our Olympic athletes. They are ice dancing Bitch, not saving children!!!! WTF!! A little perspective, please. Yes, if you are wondering, with many more words, that is what I said to her. Is it nice to hear that the USA hockey team beat Canada, I guess if you are a hockey fan it certainly would be for you. Much like I love to see my boys in blue (UK Wildcats) win their basketball games. Do I think anyone who lives in Kentucky and doesn't follow them throughout the season to be less of a Kentuckian, ummmm, no, because that is fucking stupid, because guess what, not everyone likes basketball. Or sports in general.

For those of you who do enjoy the Olympics, enjoy them while they last, thoroughly. I am happy for you. Please do understand that I am doing the countdown to Jimmy Fallon's return. I miss him. I resent the fuck out of your ski people and skaters and especially those strange curling, ice sweeping fucks who clearly just ran out of sports and decided that was all they had left for taking him away from me. I will be glad when they have stopped coming between me and that funny little beer pong playing man of mine.

Sunday, February 21, 2010

This Wicked Girl...........

........is not a fucking morning person. I have insomnia in a major way. Let me break that down for you, that means, I stay up late, then I lay down, I think about ridiculous shit that will never happen, but if by some bizarre, mind bending chance it does, I am prepared bitches. NO FEAR!! If you come to derby and the aliens attack, just call me, I have it all worked out. Thank you to the makers of Topomax, fuckers!

By prepared, I mean, like a couple of years ago, while having my morning coffee and watching the news, my sleepy little ass heard a rumbling, not like my stomach, like another fucking tornado (which we had experienced two months earlier), but further, and like slow, then it started to get louder, then it sounded like the wind, but then my house started to move.....yeah, you assholes on the left coast are laughing. We were having a fucking earthquake, in Kentucky. So, I literally sat on my sofa, look up at a giant picture hanging above my head and thought, "damn, how securely did I hang this?" then I continued to sit, under my giant picture....I also quickly calculated whether I should wake my children, who slept through the earthquake (my son also slept through tornado, but in his defense(?), he sleeps in basement, which is where we seek shelter, so I didn't wake him, we merely huddled next to him while trees fell all around us and the tornado touched down 50 yards away from my fucking house!!)(oops, that was a long parenthetical break) By the time I was finished weighing the pros and cons and had decided to let them sleep, the earthquake was over. No harm, no foul. Well, not to us. It did some very minor damage in the area. Plus, I didn't look like an idiot in a panic like the news people I was watching. I just sipped my coffee and had an earthquake.

....is also not a 9 to 5 kind of gal. Sitting in an office typing, filing, faxing. No, not my thing. I'm not very tolerant of people for long periods of time, I need breaks from them or I tend to get like a caged animal. I will bite, claw, chew my way through you. Whatever it takes to get free. I like jobs that mix it up. I like to have co-workers, obviously. Subordinates, I am fine with that too. Customers are fine, I like manipulating people around to making them think purchasing what I suggested was actually their idea. Obviously, I would prefer to just travel the world and write about my wicked journeys. Wouldn't you love to read about that? I would love to allow you that privilege. I will pitch it to numerous Travel type e-mags and real print monsters tomorrow, so be sure to comment about how MUCH you would pay to read that, in fact, send friends and family over to leave comments stating the same, we will sway them with this post (or something like that) and then we will all be winners!

.....might be a natural born killer. I am pretty sure I could kill a mother fucker. I have actually thought this through. Not like, plotted my ex-husband's death, kind of thought it through. Just the 'if someone did that to one of my kids' kind of thought it through. So, yeah, I am a natural born killer. Then I watched Last House on the Left. That totally sealed the deal. I am pretty sure you are supposed to be a little bit skeeved out by the fact that the normal people turn into brutal murderers. Ya know, instead of cheering like you are watching a ballgame. Oh well. I have the instinct and a daughter.

......would have to kill that mother fucker with a high heel. This is not a joke, the only sharp objects in my home I have never injured myself on but I know I could hurt a bad guy with are definitely some of my stilettos. So, yes, I will kill you, but it really will be with a beautiful Manolo to the carotid artery. Prepare yourself, my mother is a nurse, I have checked to be certain exactly where I need to plunge the heels, I am first going to plunge the death blow, then while you bleed out, I am definitely doing some more painful damage. Just giving you a heads up.(Zing! Pun, you knew it was coming, right?)

..........will totally get away with it because I am smart enough to set it all up in advance, fly in under a secret name with false documents and be back on location to continue my travels for my fantastic job where I write about my wicked journeys. Fuck, people keep up. We just covered that a few paragraphs back.

........would have totally been a stripper to pay my way through college.(had it not been for that whole "having a kid and husband at the time" thing) Also, my parents would be completely okay with it. They wouldn't like, come and watch or anything, but they wouldn't go into some sort of panic, as long as I wasn't taking any risks or on drugs, they wouldn't mind me using men's weakness for the female form to make money. My aunts and I have this debate all the time. One of them is appalled every time I say it, the other two are with me on it all the way and agree that they too still wish they had at least tried stripping. Funny, isn't it. Like some strange desire to have a roomful of people watch you undress. Exhibitionism at it's finest.

......is going to bed now. This non-morning person has to be awake at Oh Holy Hell it's early in the morning. So, I'm going to go lay awake and think up new ways to fend off the Taliban.

Love Letters of Camelot........

As I write this post, they are auctioning the love letters, handwritten, of John F. Kennedy to Gunilla von Post. I read through them. I had to do it. I am a lover of all things Kennedy.

Gunnila von Post

Actual photocopy of one of the letters being auctioned(no idea I was such a geek, huh? Only about hot former president's, I promise)

He met her just before he married Jackie. Pursued her while he was a Senator. Their affair, as it were, which was very brief and consisted of more letters than time together, was over long before his presidential bid ever began. It does eliminate the question for those who have said that he merely became ravenous of women once he had ultimate power.

Make no mistake, Jack was never in love with Jackie. She was never who he wanted to be with in life. She was the woman his father decided would get him to the top. So Jack accepted this as his fate, most of the time, on occasion he would go to his father, plead his case for divorce when he would fall in love with one of his dalliances, be denied, berated, reminded of the bigger picture and fall back into line. Meanwhile, Jackie would do, well, whatever it was Jackie did while Jack dallied.

What. The. Fuck. This is where I get very frustrated and torn. I respect John F. Kennedy immensely as a President. Much the same as (and flame me for this if you wish, I give a fuck less) I respect Bill Clinton immensely as a President. Would I tolerate either of them as a husband, Hell NO! But, one skill set has very little, in fact virtually nothing, to do with the other.

I also respect the post JFK Jackie Kennedy Onassis, as do I feel Hillary Rodham Clinton is a woman who has shown incredible strength, backbone and intelligence in the face of great adversity. How can two women who had husbands who so publicly and flagrantly betrayed them also show such strength and poise? One answer is these women knew they were entering into political marriages. Oh, you heard me, take off your rose colored glasses and follow me into the seedy little rabbit hole.

A political marriage is a marriage of an entirely different nature. This I do know. I know some politicians. Some who fell into politics late, who were married to people they love long before politics were thought of, others, well, political potential was a factor in their mate. So, how does that work, now your rank is factored by age, sexual performance, beauty, and political assistance potential. No pressure there. What man is worth that? Especially when it seems virtually every politician coming and going these days is cumming and going.

There are the women who you fall in love with and there are the women who look wholesome and warm and like they would sit down at your kitchen table and listen to your problems. Understand this now, these guys have multi-billion dollar corporations begging them for favors, does Ms. Wholesome handing them a muffin when they get home keep them satisfied? Or, even worse, reminding them they need to be home early tomorrow because her mother will be in town. Even on a state level, they already have mistresses. Well, assuming that they are truly into females, which they may or may not be. Assuming, also, that they are male, which they may or may not be and yes, this does work in reverse for the females, they are just as likely to be sleeping with their aids, interns and assistants as the males, no one goes blameless or untouched, or at least very few do, with the rare exceptions of those who entered into the game late, because they felt passionately about something and were already grounded in life.

You show me a lifelong politician, I will show you a politician who knows how to win elections, knows how to get policies passed, make things happen and has cheated on their spouse at least once for a long period of time or repeatedly with a string of partners. I'm not hating nor am I just headline jumping, I'm just stating an inside view factoid.

By the way, my dear conservative friends who are shaking your heads and saying, "That's those liberals who do that." Ummm, building a house of cards is a very risky thing, and the foundation yours is built on is just made of cards, people from political families, very flawed people, people who have already fallen in so many ways, men who have been found in public bathrooms seeking sexual favors from other men, people who have histories of addictions. So, let us remember those houses can fall so easily and with such a swiftness, one unexpected breeze. Besides, Cindy McCain was scary!!!! So, I am giving you that John clearly married for love.

The political world is full of A type personalities. Controlling, strong, organized, overseers. They have to be, they are used to having their needs catered to at a whim. It's part of the deal. You are surrounded by a staff who meets you before you get into your office telling you who has called, who needs to see you, who has requested some of your time, what has gone wrong and who is trying to fix it, who is mad at you and who is planning to kiss your ass at what time. That's before your actual scheduled day begins. It's stressful. You have an entire constituency who is relying on you to help them and believe it or not, most of them really do remember that. Somewhere along the way, someone is going to stop and just ask how they are or tell them they really look nice. That is about all it takes. Because once you become a politician, everyone suddenly wants something from you and every conversation revolves around your political career. This especially includes that wisely chosen political spouse. (now you're picking up what I'm laying down) So, yeah, you look nice today is suddenly giving you an instant hard on because it's the sexiest thing anyone has said to you in a month. Next thing you know, you're fucking the intern.
Does that make it okay, only you, your spouse and apparently, the American media, get to decide that.

Back to my point, which I really strayed from, being John F Kennedy and his love letters. http://legendaryauctions.com/LotDetail.aspx?lotid=106663 You can view them here if you are interested. I think love letters are a beautiful thing, the idea of one sitting down with pen in hand and attempting to write their feeling for another person on paper where they will be forever etched. Certainly these letters are not on par with anything you will find in a volume of great love letters of our time. I am rather glad, considering their clandestine context.

So, here is the thing I asked myself as we have been having this Alpha/Beta talk so much on my little blog lately. Was JFK an Alpha, as his affairs would indicate? No, not in his letters to Gunnila, he showed far too much vulnerability, tenderness, almost desperation in his need and desire to see this woman who, until meeting her again after months and only 9 pieces of correspondence, he had shared only an evening of dancing and a kiss. Granted it was a moonlit kiss under the Mediterranean skies. But no Alpha would send handwritten love letters pleading with a woman to see him again given his position in life. No, he was definitely not an Alpha when dealing with his father. He certainly displayed Alpha traits when dealing with his wife. He displayed Alpha traits when he was POTUS. Clearly, he was a combination.

Something about him, he looks pretty Alpha there

Oddly, I never find myself less intrigued or desirous of more information about the Kennedy family when I find new things. I just devour it. Dissect it. Then continue to seek out more. I never read the so-called tell all books by former lovers or insiders. I stick to the historical recounting. The things that can be proven. Things such as these letters.

What fascinates you?

Saturday, February 20, 2010

urbandictionary.com Is the Ruin of Intelligent Conversation

I admit freely from the jump that I began the downhill slide our conversation took this evening when friends came over. But WOW! Once it began, it was like an avalanche of the most unspeakably unpleasant things.

I am Wicked, but I have boundaries people, oh my damn! Stop trying to force me to take upon myself mental images that no sexually adventurous, yet sane human being should ever be forced to accidentally encounter. A random moment of humor where someone enlightens you about a disgusting act is one thing, but even I have my limits. I am clearly not cut out for the men's locker room. I have also determined beyond a shadow of a doubt, Love of my Life is not either. Love of my Life shall forever be equally as offended and disgusted by the group discussion of really offensive acts.

Please don't get confused here. We are not discussing bondage, sex toys, threesomes, finding the magic p spot, shaved or waxed, anal, oral, no, this is not your average porn talk by any means. I am pretty sure this is the stuff you have to cross at least one border to find on DVD. Or at least I really hope so.

I do know that urbandictionary.com is blocked at the schools in KY. But do your kids have internet access on their phones? Does one of their friends? It only takes one.

Also, where the hell was I when this whole "Two Girls in One Cup" thing happened? I have never seen it, had never heard of it before tonight, and if you haven't, DO NOT LOOK FOR IT!!! I am telling you now, all I needed was half of a description and I stopped the person explaining and ended the topic. But not before finding out that this was apparently discussed on The Family Guy??!!! So, are your kids still immune?

So, game night has ended and I am sitting here left to wonder, if people were disgusted by the bondage world years ago,(mind you, that is an if, because from what I have read, bondage has been a practiced sexual art for centuries) will these sick (and yes, I am judging, and yes, I am TOTALLY comfortable with this judgement for a change) practices someday become more acceptable. If so, just please let it be when any children of mine are in the 70-80 age range and I am dead and gone.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Wicked Girls......What Do You Really Think Of Us?

You have seen us...in restaurants, at work, in bars, while shopping. Are you one of us, or do you aspire to be? Do you look at us with disdain, or uncertainty? Are you a man who stands back and wonders, or are you a man who sees us and gets excited, or do we intimidate you? The Wicked stir many emotions. We are not unaware of this. We are merely unconcerned. You are not our focus. Part of the very fiber of what makes us who we are is that fact, you see.

We enjoy life, we live it, typically with exuberance. We are that girl in the restaurant who laughs out loud at her companion. Who smiles at those who pass by and treats her server like a host who has invited them into their home. (the exception being when the service itself is really horrible, even then, ask for a manager, no reason to squabble with servers or talk down to them, seriously, being an asshat is not wicked, it's childish)

We work hard and yet manage to play while we do it. We flirt with your spouse at work, yes, it's true, but it stops at harmless flirtation and he comes home less stressed because of it. You're welcome. We treat the girls who would actually sleep with him like shit, you're also welcome for that. We have standards.

We don't sidle up to a bar and plant ourselves. It's like tying us to a tree in a beautiful rainshower and telling us we can't run and spin through it. Pure torture. We must mingle, meet, talk, dance, move. We aren't necessarily the least bit interested in leaving with anyone other than the people we came in with, we are just social creatures who thrive on interaction. We talk. Do not blame us if your husband/boyfriend is watching us. We probably aren't aware of his presence in the room. We definitely won't be slipping him our number or trying to sneak outside with him. If he approaches us, that is on him, stop blaming womankind for your man's transgressions. 73% of all men do not wear their wedding rings, even when with their spouse. Is your man one? Are you the one who sits quietly by and wishes you could be that bold, grab our arm and tag along, a few trips around (and a few cocktails) and you will find it is a liberating and deliciously fun experience. People love talking about themselves. "Hi" draws out life stories. "What is that drink?" begins 15 minute conversations about a trek after college through Italy. Life is fun as a Wicked girl.

Guys, oh my lovely, dahling men. The ones who love us, fear us and want to conquer us. I do so adore you all. I mean that, each of you for a different reason, of course. The dream being to find that perfect balance of all of those traits wrapped into one man. Preferably a man with the body of Jason Statham, the humor of Jimmy Fallon and the voice Vin Diesel(but maybe give him one of those bloody hot English accents, the dirty ones, not a Prince william kind, a street English accent, oh hell yeah.....yummmmmmmmm)

Wicked girls fascinate you, don't we? It's ok, that slightly out of reach quality is apealling, you can't help it. We are bold and unusually honest, which, ironically, is probably most frightening to those Alpha types out there. Of course, you express your fear in thinly veiled disgust. You claim we are simply not your type(intelligent) or aren't marraige material(have potentially had sex with enough men to know you are NOT as impressive as you think you are)or we are not a high enough rank to be your mate(because somehow your rank is skewed despite your beergut and lack of bank and upward mobility and disparate looks, after all, you imagined this little scale, not to fret girls, I am working on one for us). So yes, Alphas, cower in the corner when the Wicked girls come rolling in, make your excuses as to why we aren't your type, because honestly, we prefer our men to be capable of thinking with both the lower case d and the brain, hold in-depth conversations about history and art and music and philosophy and something tells me your incestuous beating off to your cousins picture distracted you from much studying.(props to Vapid Blonde) Besides, your all about being dominant, how the hell do you dominate a smart, profoundly self aware woman.....let me know when you figure that out and I will try not to laugh at you while you give it a go.

The Betas love us, we will take good care of them. Ugh, I am stopping right there. Enough said.

Which brings us to the ones who want to conquer us....not the "me Tarzan, you Jane" kind of conquer, but the one who spots us in that restaurant or bar and can't stop watching, the one who is fascinated by the boldness, neither afraid nor in need of it. Simply enamored. Enchanted.(my favorite word in the English language, btw) He is a combination of many things. He is smart enough to know you can't catch a Wicked girl, pursuit causes flight. He is adept enough to put himself in our path, often. He is intelligent enough to make us laugh and hold our attention, tell us something no one else in the room would know, maybe even understand(I'm in Kentucky, if it doesn't involve NASCAR or a hunting show, he has an advantage). he is that combination that blends with us and creates a world with us, not for us or inside ours, never around ours, smothering us. For the man who loves a Wicked girl and appreciates her Wicked nature, can handle her blunt nature, can meet it with his own, he is a man not only worthy of our attentions but our loyalty and one who will be loyal to us. Gag if you will, or make faces and laugh and assume that all men are the sad little ego strokers(Zing! Pun, I do so love my puns, why did I even bother with kids??) who need more than one woman, if you must, but, Alphas, need I remind you, you can't handle one wicked girl, so go back to your corner and, well....

Whatever your thoughts on us may be, we respect you and what your choices in life may be. Well, with a few exceptions *ahem*. I respect the sanctity of marraige. I respect the dedication of parenting. I respect the ridiculous hardships people in this nation face everyday because of the ignorance of others, be it due to sex, race, lifestyle, etc. All I am suggesting is, maybe next time you assume we are sluts because we have somehow found ourselves wandering out of a strip club at 4am, stop and ask yourself 2 things,

1) Who the fuck am I to judge since I am out at 4 in the morning too?

2) How does this effect me?

Also, slut is a highly subjective word.....just sayin. ;)

Oh, by the by, off topic but to wrap up tonight's post, but I am not a fan of the Winter Olympics because, well, they look fucking cold!! But, what would make them worse? They have completely taken away my Jimmy fix. Yeah, that's right. Jimmy Fallon withdrawals are worse than trying to kick meth. Well, ok, I don't actually have any way of knowing that, but, I really miss Jimmy. Plus, he hasn't been able to brag about the chocolate vaginas I sent him. *sigh*

So You Have a Harem, I Am a Whore??

What's the most expedient way to cause my normally low blood pressure to reach what would be an average reading for most people, but is in fact high for me? State as fact a ridiculous double standard and then preach that double standard to a large number of brainless, sheeplike individuals who for no apparent reason other than your unproven, yet self proclaimed success hang on your every fucking word.

Enter the phenomenon that is Roissy in DC. It is a blog. One that I am not posting a link to here. Yes, I know that is poor form. If that gets back to the creator of that blog and he/she/it has a problem with that, he/she/it is more than welcome to come here and we will discuss it like one name calling adult and one fucking moronic, infantile, cocksure, self important, womanizing prick. (I will let you guess which one of those will be me)

I read through a lot of crap, things that really don't interest me in any way other than learning more about other people's views on life. Expanding my knowledge of the human race and how other people think. But sometimes it just pisses me off, because I am often reminded that many of them really spend so much time thinking "How can I spend more time accommodating my dick?" Not the Dick we all know and love, but the male genitalia form of dick, known as lower case d, from here on.

Of course, I wasn't the least surprised to see the valentine's post over there proclaiming "Harem Management" (no, I am not fucking kidding you, close your mouth and wipe your chin off) is simple, you call your girl who has a sex rank of 7or lower, you push her furthest away from the holiday because she is the least important, then you call your next highest, (oh, for those of you who didn't realize, we all have a rank, based on our age, our BMI and our sexual performance, best I can tell, I am a mere 7, my age pulls me down, anything over 23 pretty much fucks you out of being a 9 or 10, sorry ladies) and so on. Anyway, the point of this was, you plan ahead and you avoid lying to them if at all possible. Only avoid lying so you don't have a bunch of lies floating around to keep straight.

Also, notably sound advice, (also hilarious to me because these guys actually plan their lives around servicing their lower case d) make sure you enter a career that requires regular travel to various cities, this way your harem consists of women in different cities and you don't have to worry about uncomfortable situations. Genius.

So, I am reading the comments, guys idolizing this asshat for his brilliance. Can't wait to implement his plan. Recounting their past failures and now they see the light and will follow his path, blah blah blah.

It's a bunch of crap, but much of what you would expect from college and other 20 something single guys, then I see the one.........."I am married and have two women in separate cities, I have been working this system effectively now for over 4 years. As long as you keep a cool head, separate bank accounts and remember your stories you can never go wrong. Your marriage will remain solid, your girls will be happy and you will lead a full life"...... that is not verbatim, because honestly, something about that post made me so sick to my stomach, I just couldn't make myself go back and read it again, plus, I figure I shouldn't copy from the site since I refuse to post the web addy.

I know married guys cheat, believe me, I definitely know it. But something about that comment, his cavalier attitude, his use of the phrase "your marriage will remain solid" Does his wife sit at home caring for kids thinking she has a solid marriage? OMG.....I am not an overly sensitive type, but this just infuriated me, then I read the following few comments, one was lauding him for his abilities and praising him as a role model. Time for me to move on.

I switched to a different post. One where they were picking apart a Washington Post letter from a man who suspected the child his wife had given birth to was night his. Was it possible she had an affair and he wasn't aware? The word whore was tossed around more than paternity test. I couldn't help but start laughing, because, well, I don't want to replace my laptop and frankly, it just wouldn't have survived me throwing it across the room. So, a man with multiple partners in other cities is to be praised, but a woman who may be repeating this behavior is a whore? Now boys.....

Let me be clear. It goes a little like this. You want to talk about Alpha and Beta. Alpha males come in, they grab their woman, they tell her they are going to fuck her, then fuck her right and proper they do. Betas come in, they wash the dishes, run her some bath water, massage her back, ask her if they can make love to her and hope she says yes. I get that. A combination of the two is what every woman wants and guys find it virtually impossible to find that balance because depending on the day we have had, that balance we are looking for is different. What is so different for us, one minute you want us to call your mother and make nice and then you want us to hang up the phone and instantly have an overwhelming desire to place your lower case d in our mouth. Yeah, how do you think that is going to work out? Know why a mistress sucks your lower case d on command? She hasn't met your fucking mother. She never washes your fucking underwear. She has probably never, ever had to take care of you while you were sick. You know, which means she has never had to BE your mother. Yes, I fucking went there. So, you can Alpha Beta it up all you want, boys, but in the end, it's not so different, Madonna/Whore, anyone?

Now back to you PUA/game obsessed mother fuckers, it's time for you to sit up and take notice. You want us to feel so damn sorry for you balancing this delicate Alpha Beta game. Step into our stilettos for a moment, if you would be so bold. First we get to figure out, okay, is he gaming or is he serious. One nighters are fine with some of us, but some of you assheads like to spit game assuming that you can only get laid if you pretend there is long term shit dangling. Don't be a douchenozzle, state your fucking intentions, if your not worthy of a one nighter, buff it up, loserboy! Then we get to figure out, okay, is he talking to me because he wants to talk to me or is this one of the new gamers "talk to the friend of the one you actually want" yes asshats, we are aware of these dumbass tactics, we aren't the emptyheaded bimbos you are hoping to land, and as much as you like to tell yourself your game works on girls who know about game, your wrong. The minute you slip and any one of us spot it...you are fucking blacklisted like you just don't know, which is why you go home with a 4 that night and there are 5 groups of 7-10's waving and laughing as you go, that is us making you our bitch for the night, I believe, in terms you could understand, it's the equivalent to a cumshot in your face bitch! Stop reading so many fucking game blogs and watching game shows and talk to real people who actually date. Like in normal relationships that you can see. Have you ever SEEN these people who say they have a "Harem" of 20 women? Has it not yet occurred to you that it could be the man beast in the clown house across the street from me? Cause I have to tell you, you want no part of that, ever heard the old adage, "One man's trash is another man's treasure"? Just sayin.

So, you strive for your harem if that's what you really want. But, be careful what you wish for, my boy. Hell hath no fury like a crazy ass, stupid bimbo who fell for some lame ass game and then realized she got punked, my boy. As for being a whore, I will pass on it, but if you are dipping your lower case d in numerous lower case p's, only to find that one or two of them was feeling a bit neglected and strayed, that doesn't make them any more of a whore than you. You get as good as you give, my dears.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

I Don't Know What I Am Talking About

At some point in my life I would wake in the morning and my face would light up at the white covering the ground. A snow day. I would anxiously run to the living room, flip on the television and stare intently until I confirmed that I had no school. Then rush back to bed. Under the covers, snug and thrilled.

Now, it is a nuisance. Not the first time, the first snowfall of the year my daughter and I stand and watch out the french doors, the flakes fall and we comment on how beautiful it is smiling at one another.

Tonight as I watched the local news, the weather person announced with a stupid fucking grin that normally we would have 10.4 inches of snow at this point in the year, instead we have had 21.8, with more coming Saturday, Sunday, Monday and again later next week.

When did I stop enjoying this? Is it an adult thing? I don't think so. I still like other kid things. I like to read children's books sometimes. Where The Wild Things Are is still one of my faves. I sit and color with my nieces. Or play dolls with them. Play tag in the back yard during the summer. Catch lightening bugs and put them in a jar to make a lantern, with holes in the top so they can breathe, until they die, hehehe. Doing somersaults for the kids in the clown house across the street. Cart wheels and playing football with my son and his friends. I can't stand listening to the music that I grew up with (I mean, really, who the fuck is still listening to the same fucking music year after year after fucking year.....?)

I am an adult in the sense of running a household and raising children and sustaining relationships and the like, but otherwise, I am still rather proud of my ability to be somewhat childlike. I am mature, but I am also in touch with my inner child, thankfully not afraid to let that child out to play. Out to run on the beach, roll in the grass with a dog, play dodgeball(another game I really suck at).

But I am noticing things that I don't enjoy anymore. Snow is at the top of the list right now. Next up is definitely dishes. I used to jump up and ask to do dishes. What. The. Fuck. Was. I. Thinking. Did I really not ever grasp in that tiny mind of mine that I was going to have to do dishes for the rest of my cursed life? Offering to cook dinner, begging actually. Jeeezus!!?? I think maybe I was hit on the head a lot as a kid. (I should definitely bring this up at next neuro visit, ask my mom if she has been hiding ugly abuse secret)

The real big one that I have noticed is I used to offer to watch other people's kids liberally. Honestly not minding. Now, oh hell no. I am so picky about what kids I will keep, I am like one of those private schools you have to apply for when your kid is one if you want them to attend during their high school years. I kid you not(Zing! Pun, you never know when they are coming, hahaha). I can count on 3 fingers the people I will babysit for, and even then, I want advance notice. I'm not particularly worried about my belongings, no terribly expensive art pieces sitting around the house, doubtful these kids are going to chew through my shoes. I just don't like other people's kids any more.

Let me see how to put this. Well, it's me, so I will be blunt. They are fucking brats, for the most part. Undisciplined, timeouted, mommy said no'd, this is a bad thing'd, I will only tell you so many times'd fucking out of control brats. Let me break it down for you like this. My friends Ami and Penny will not hesitate to discipline their children the first time they do something wrong. I don't mean beat the living shit out of them, but something consequential is being taken away, they are in TROUBLE, none of this, I am going to say your name and make a sad face bullshit!!! You know, actual trouble. The kind that requires mommy or daddy to take 5 damn seconds out of their busy schedule to be a parent. Crazy, I know, but some people still do that.

So yeah, sorry, but I used 2 names, which leaves a few people out there going, "Hmmm, I wonder if I am the third?" Well, keep wondering, I will tell you that I only counted people who live close enough to actually ask me to watch their kids, so that excludes you, Vic, cause you know I adore Jacob!

On the exact opposite side of this, I have a ridiculous amount of patience for the kids in the clown house.(I swear there are 47 of them, one day there were 4, next day there were 7, then suddenly, BOOM, bright light and 47, some magical shit that hairy 400lb man beast wrapped in a towel can do over there) They have virtually no yard at all and anytime I am outside in the spring/summer/fall, they ask if they can come talk to me or play in my yard or even if I will move my car so they can play basketball on my son's basketball court. Something about knowing that the only attention they get is from drunken idiots makes me forgive them for their bad behavior and feel bad for them. Plus, I am pretty sure the 9 year old is watching The Pick Up Artist on whatever channel that show was on, because he was spitting mad game at me by mid-summer. Smooth one, he is, all slick, explaining to me I was way hotter than any of the girls his dad dated (umm, man beast, hello???!!) and that maybe I should give him a ride in my car one night, we could slide back the sunroof and check out the stars. Oh yeah, he's a keeper, that one!

Then there are the kids who are friends with my kids. Some of whom I love. Some I just can't get a feel for what they are really like. Which makes me not like them. I have pretty good people instincts, if I can't peg you, it's usually because you're shady. I can deal with shady, but I don't want shady anyfuckingwhere near my kids, keep stepping. I will cut somebody over them. Stabbity just doesn't do it justice. I will go Manson up in this bitch, and I'm not talking Marilyn.

The other thing is total, oblivion style drunkenness. Lost my taste for it. Well, maybe I did. I am fairly certain. I can't really test my theory right this minute because my anti-seizure cocktail(we always call it a cocktail, sounds more appealing than copious amount of pharmaceuticals required to keep my brain from acting out against my body) sort of prohibits my alcohol intake. Plus, when I do imbibe a little, Wicked Pen seems to have a fucking remote access breathalyzer implanted on me and magically starts texting me to bitch at me. (yes, yes, I know it's out of love and concern, blah blah di fucking blah) But, the last couple of times I got my drink on before "the episodes" began, it just wasn't the same.

Not sure when all of these things lost their luster, or if I am merely going through a phase, but I know this, I still LOVE the ocean, love the feeling of opening that sunroof and driving really fast when the stars are out(sans 9 yo PUA), I love quiet nights at home with a bottle of wine and good movies, I love nights out at the club with lots of friends and loud music to dance my ass off, I love warm, sunny days on my deck with a brush in my hand and a blank canvass staring back at me, I love brutal, sarcastic humor that some people will never understand and others will laugh hysterically at, because a joke that everyone gets well, it just isn't that fucking funny to me!

Monday, February 15, 2010

A Whole New Respect

Okay, let me just start out by saying, I don't like Jessica Simpson, she is, in my eyes, the equivalent of a sex doll. tits, ass, no brain, incapable of performing basic household functions, but she is there to fuck. She does however not get you laughed at when you show up at Christmas dinner with her. Well, not until after you leave....and even then, all the guys are going to wish they were fucking her too, they will just feel bad for you, because she doesn't have an off switch.
Then I happened across this little story:

Fox News is reporting on a recent interview John Mayer gave to Playboy Magazine where he is quoted on his sexual escapades with Jessica Simpson. Here are the direct quotes:

"That girl, for me, is a drug. And drugs aren't good for you if you do lots of them. Yeah, that girl is like crack cocaine to me...sexually it was crazy. That's all I'll say. It was like napalm, sexual napalm."

"There are people in the world who have the power to change our values. Have you ever been with a girl who made you want to quit the rest of your life? Did you ever say, "I want to quit my life and just fuckin' snort you? If you charged me $10,000 to fuck you, I would start selling all my shit just to keep fucking you."

You have to love that John Mayer. He just doesn't know when to shut his adorable little face. But in all of this, I have a new found respect for Ms. Simpson. Sexual Napalm! Hell to the Yeah! That is some powerful stuff.

I am going to request that one of my fellow bloggers immediately begin a project. I would like you to set out on a journey to interview all of my previous lovahs. The goal being to find descriptions such as sexual napalm, crack cocaine, the Grand Goddess of Going Down. So who is up to the challenge?

Of course, I digress, as I oft do, tonights little bloggy treat is really about the sexy dolls. Are we threatened by them? Do we welcome them? Do we ignore them? What are they? Do you even know? Follow me down the rabbit hole, my loves and I will show you......

You're not in the land of blow ups anymore, these girls are made to feel real. Okay, sure, she has permanent blowjob face, but hey, some guys like that. *giggle*
The basic new sex doll, which is not so basic at all, runs around $6000, looks like a stripper or a librarian or anything in between,(here is an example)

is made to order and targeted for a specific demographic, lonely, wealthy, anti-social or socially inept men and women. See this story for confirmation. http://www.nerve.com/regulars/ididitforscience/sexdoll/
Aside from his candid writing on his experience with his Real Doll, his pictures get much more graphic(enjoy boys ;), I am here for you.

So, how do you feel about her? Intimidated? I should think not. Excited? To each their own. I see nothing wrong with lonely guys having their toys. Or couples who have the spare cash grabbing a spare girl for threesomes on demand wihout the messy side effects. handling the Real Dolls pretty well, then. Excellent. I am very proud of you, my Wicked ones.

Now for the real test.
This is Roxxxy. She is special. What makes Roxxxy special, you ask? Well, Roxxxy does all the things a Real Doll does. But so much more. You see, Roxxxy has artificial intelligence. That's right. Oh, and there's more. She has orgasms. On command. Push a button and she shakes and shimmies and oooo's and aaaahhh's and will cry out his pre-programmed name. Roxxxy will tell him he's wonderful. Roxxxy will tell him his boss was wrong. Roxxxy will tell him he looks like he's lost weight, that his joke was funny. Roxxxy will discuss world politics with him. She can be programmed to talk about any number of things. She too, comes pre-ordered to look any way he chooses. She will be subservient or a little spunky. She will be talkative or he will turn her voice off. He will make her cum every time or never. She will do as wishes, when he wishes.

TrueCompanion helped kick off the Saturday session of the AVN Adult Entertainment Expo with a press conference in which the site debuted "the world's first sex robot." Meet the Roxxxy TrueCompanion. This doll has an artificial intelligence engine programmed to learn your likes and dislikes. She can listen, feel, and speak to her owner.

The doll features five "girlfriend personalities," including, Frigid Farrah, Wild Wendy, Mature Martha, and more. Users can also built custom profiles online and swap them with friends. The doll goes on sale next week for roughly $7,000-9,000 plus a subscription fee, which is "comparable to a cell plan," according to Roxxxy's creator.

When asked what inspiration was for creating the doll, he answered that "after 9/11, I wanted to give back." God bless America.
Quote from Geeklog.com

Well, hey, at least he had noble intentions? Ummm, ok?!

This doesn't bother me either. I just view this as getting a few more strange, controlling guys off the streets, no longer trolling the net or stalking us on FB.

Now it's your turn. I am dying to know. Let me hear your thoughts..........

Have You Ever Played I Never? I Shouldn't

I hate this game. I've played it on numerous occasions. It was a great game for me to play back when I was young and thought it was great to go from stone cold sober to passing out drunk in like ten minutes. Those days have been gone for a long time.

The rules are painfully simple, you sit around with your drinks, in a group, best be a group you know well, or a group you will never see again. I will warn you now, this is not a game to play with co-workers. Not unless you are a liar, in which case, YOU SUCK as a human being and shouldn't be allowed to play drinking games, ever. So, someone is chosen to begin randomly, they say, I never.....(insert a random sex act they have yet to try, this can be anything from bondage to public fellatio). Anyone in the group who has, must take a drink, no explanations are necessary, you simply take a drink. I will warn you, as you drink more, you will find yourself getting more and more irritated at the things people have never done. I have been known to burst into tirades that sound something like this: "Are you seriously trying to tell me you have never in your entire fucking life given head while a guy was driving, whatthefuckever, did we change the game to bullshit, cause I'm calling it!!" Yeah, I suck at this game.

Then we have Truth or Dare. This game just screams danger for me. I have avoided all situations involving truth or dare for years. There are so many reasons why, I can't even begin to explain all of them. But, the one particular night that stands out, well, let me break it down in the flashes that come to me.
Ex-boyfriend and his army buddy climbing fence at Fort Knox to run across major highway, MP's waiting at fence for them before their naked asses make it back over fence.
Army buddy's wife with timer standing over me and him, letting me know when 2 minutes are up.*ahem*
Ex-boyfriend and random never before or after seen redhead on sofa while I held her shirt and pants
Choosing truth to slow things down, only to have army buddy wife ask, knowing the damn answer, if I had ever cheated on (ex)boyfriend.......thus, confessing to roomful of people to having slept with someone else the weekend before , tyvfm, army buddy wife
So, yeah, I suck at that game!

Follow The Leader, someone says a word,(we are a bunch of pervs, so we always played sexual words only) the person immediately to their left says the first word that pops into their head. It's just a word association game. The key being, your word has to be associated to the one said by the person next to you, not the previous word, instinct is often to try to be prepared. Or, of course, people go blank. Both are deadly. Blank, you automatically drink. Get asked to explain the connection and fail to do so immediately, drink. Call someone out and they satisfactorily explain the connection, you drink. I am a fast thinker, I am good at this game.

So, what do you get from tonight's post. First of all, as if you didn't already know, I have, repeatedly. ;) Secondly, I shouldn't play games with people who haven't. I like to share my worldly knowledge of drinking games. So, if you haven't, you can, because I've given you the directions for a couple of great new party games.

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Take a Flying Leap, Hallmark

Right, so all of this talk about the dreaded VD had me thinking about the best gifts I have ever received. I have gotten great ones. Tiffany jewelry, more Tiffany jewelry, a special made cake that looked exactly like a Tiffany box.......

diamond rings, designer purses, vacations, the list goes on........but this is the one that always sticks out in my head far above all the rest. It is the one that I know no one else has ever gotten. Of course, now that I am putting it out here, someone else may someday get it, but hey, whatevs, I got it first.

The thing is, you don't find actual feelings like this in a card. I used to read Dr. Seuss to my kids not just because they liked them but because I liked the sing song rhymes myself. It was comforting and reviving and made me smile. Thing 1 and Thing 2 with their crazy blue hair and their red pajama outfits reminded me of my two little brothers (well, not the blue hair, but, everything else about them).

In the middle of a horrible day I placed a call, just seeking a minute of peace and reassurance, if memory serves, I was about to fire an employee, one who I was friends with outside of work. When I came home, this is what I found......

The framed poem, in very Seuss-like prose, reads as follows:

Just Look What He's Done

Yes Your Husband Did That

He Brought Home Those Things From The Cat In The Hat

He Brought Home Those Things

Thing One And Thing Two

Because Of Your Call

Because You Were Blue

So Now They Are Here And He Just Wants To Say

Know That I Love You

And Have A Great Day!

Somehow I just don't think that can ever be mass produced. It is unique, special. I will always treasure it. Will probably give it to my daughter when she gets older so she will have it as a keepsake of my relationship with her father. Something tells me she will treasure it, as do I.

So, VD can suck it, but true sentiment, I am all for that. Now, go forth and fornicate people. It's VD after all, spread stuff! ;)

Saturday, February 13, 2010

Wicked Tired........Of Rude Ass People

Seriously! No, seriously? A day in the life...............

Preparing to walk into a building this morning, purse in one hand, briefcase in other, man in front of me........closes the door on me. I'm not saying he didn't hold it open for me here folks, no he actually closed the fucking door in my face! Which, somehow makes perfect sense to him when I point it out to him in the lobby when I see him staring at my legs while sitting across from me because he smiles up at my chest and says, "Sorry, was on my bluetooth. Would have gotten it for you if I hadn't been distracted." This was followed by a creepy grin, please god tell me this isn't his idea of some sort of pick up banter.*me gagging* "Bluetooth, as in, handsfree, like, still perfectly capable of holding doors open? Nice." FUCKSTICK!!!I turn and face opposite direction.

Approximately 3 hours later I walk into convenience store and find counter...........empty......no one to be found. "Hello?" .............................*crickets*................"Ummmm, hello." ......"be there in a minute" this comes from a room in the back, the voice sounding disconnected and pissed as hell that a customer is interrupting whatthefuckever it is that they were busy not doing. REALLY!! "Sure, no problem, I will just chill up here and fill my pockets with candy bars and beef jerky, take your sweet time." I say this sarcastically, hoping it will inspire snarky bitch in back to drag her ass to the counter so I can pay for my shit and go, instead, I get no response at all. At this point I am desperately wishing for one of two things, my youthful days, when I totally would have just pulled a "grab and go" or to not be in the middle of nowhere, so I could just go 1/2 a block up and go to a different convenience store. Instead, I have to wait for persnickety bitch, who finally drags her crackwhore 70 year old looking ass out to the front, then has the audacity (wait, can you have something you probably,natch, definitely, can't define???) to look at the bottle of water and say, "you could have just left the money for that, you didn't have to wait and make me rush up here." What. The Hell. "No problem, waiting was fun, I got lots of extras out of it and you don't seem to be too winded from all that rushing around." I flashed a ridiculously bitchy smile and out the door I went. FUCKING IMBECILE!!!!!!

Two and a half hours later, at the medical complex, getting ready to get off of the elevator, the door opens, I take one step and BOOM! Crazed, "Must get on the elevator immediately or will burst into flames woman" literally hits me in the fucking arm, chest and face all at once in her mad dash to enter the elevator before I exit. Guess What???? I was done. Had enough. First off, elevator etiquette is one of my pet peeves anyway. Plus, sorry bitch, wrong day to plow into me.
Snow and ice everywhere, idiots everywhere. Your poor elevator etiquette just kicked it!!

"What the hell? Michael Myers out there? Short of that, I have no idea why you just bum rushed this elevator and all but tackled me!" (at this point she hadn't even fucking apologized!) Just moved over into the elevator. Point to be made here, she was about three times my size, so I didn't strike an imposing figure to her I am sure. I leaned into the door so it wouldn't leave my floor, she looked up and said, "I'm going up, this one's going up" Ding ding ding!!! We have a live one.

"Ok, let me just give you a quick tip, since you have a whole lobby out here to stand in and this is just a little elevator, you wait for people exiting, then and only then, you get on it. What are you, socially disadvantaged?" Hindsight being 20/20, this was not the best person to get all stabbity with, what with my size disadvantage, spacial disadvantage and, well, what the fuck ever, I had heels and I am not afraid to use them, I was pissed. She was staring daggers through me, but I damn sure could outrun this bitch, in my heels. (for the record, staring daggers is a useless weapon, doesn't hurt at all, people use this method of weaponry on me all the time, I find it completely ineffective and it actually makes me sharpen my tools of trade on them)

"You're kidding me, right?" Apparently she wasn't as quick with dialogue as I am, either. Always disappointing.

"Not at all, one of these days your gonna meet up with a Dooney to the backside of your head for some shit like that." I flung my Dooney bag over my shoulder and walked into the lobby. I did kind of make sure she wasn't following me, but I was pretty sure I came off as just crazy enough that she would feel safer on the elevator. Fucktard!!

She was the last really annoying person I encountered today. But, I am pretty sure that was a Hat Trick of fucking complete idiots. Considering the fact that I am so sick of being cold, staring at snow, navigating ice in high heels,(because I can't wear a dress suit and Uggs, damnit) and stupid people, I think not actually staying on the elevator, removing my shoe and beginning to chase her in little bitty circles around the tiny elevator threatening her with the shoes heel until the elevator stopped, was really quite an impressive feat and you should all be very proud of me.

Damnit!! Now that I have typed that out and really gotten the mental image, I really wish I had gone with that instead. Fucking brilliant post that would have been. Do they let you blog from jail? Hmmm, give me a shout out if you ar reading this from JCDC! I would like to be certain I won't miss a day of blogging if I randomly attack some idiot fucking moron with one of my super awesome shoes! Thanks in advance.

Peace out homies. I am off to dream about........nope, not Jimmy Fallon......gonna dream about the love of my life tonight....cause I like to keep you peeps guessing........

Friday, February 12, 2010

Thorny Thursday

This has been one of those days that makes me want to walk up to strangers and poke them somewhere painful, just to see their reaction.

I see all of the hearts and love and diamonds and sentimental stuff everywhere and it's all very sweet and I wonder " how many millions of dollars are made off of making single people feel inadequate?".

I don't even fall into that category, mind you. Not feeling inadequate. Have awesome plans for both nights this weekend and Sunday, as well. Will probably get flowers, will definitely be getting the sex, the chocolate vaginas are already in the mail (hell to the yeah!), it's not about me. I have several friends who are single and they are already starting the pre Vday misery walk. You know the one, where their tits suddenly look saggy and tow cup sizes smaller because their shoulders are slumped over.

I say we just call the whole fucking thing off!! I can do without it. I think all women who know they will get something, just call up whatever guy they will get something from and say no to the bullshit! Do it for our single friends. Stop rubbing your non-manless status in their faces. It's a cunt move anyway, really. Does your ass need that box of chocolates? Really?? Or is he hoping to fatten you up a little to keep you off the market? Just sayin. These Alphas, you can't trust the bastards as far as you throw them.

Flower deliveries at work, what fucking bullshit! I never had my guy deliver flowers to me at work, they were always hand delivered at home. At work flower deliveries are obscene. It's screaming "I can get a man" or it's a man screaming "She's mine, don't take her". Either way, ugly. I can live without the roses. I like orchids better anyway. Besides, if it's a show of solidarity, I can live without anything for one day. Dinner out. Uh, hello, Topomax, I'm going to pick at some overpriced food that I ordered then leave, can definitely do without that.

I would love to see Hallmark go out of business, blame it on the economy, but with all of the bullshit holidays they have created, it's time for them to go. I need a break. I want them to go down in a pink and red heart shaped flame!!!

The Sex, well, I'm having my sex whether it's Vday or not and one has nothing to do with the other, so Fuck You!

Thursday, February 11, 2010

Sometimes You're the Player, Sometimes You're the Ball

Ever feel like you are on top of the fucking world? Oh yeah, all under control. Kids are doing exactly what you tell them. Significant other/spouse/gay best friend/cyber lover/imaginary pet is doing the dishes just like you asked. They were running a special on the chocolate vaginas you were ordering for your secret Hollywood crush. Your blog is getting bigtime traffic......well, okay, somebody new read it today. (yay!) The snow is melting. It really is the perfect day!

Then, someone rings the doorbell. You jump up from the sofa excitedly! On such a momentous day as this, it must be something fabulous. Did your new Jimmy Choos arrive early?

Oh, wouldn't that just be perfect? A strip-a-gram from a friend for an early V Day gift? Not a bad little extra. You throw open the door.

What. The. Fuck.

Can I help you Mr. Officer? You are correct, I do not, in fact, have a license for that polar bear, but that is because that polar bear does not belong to me.

Yes, yes, this is my house. But I assure you, he/she is not my polar bear.


Is there something one of you needs to tell me and Officer Safe Neighborhood about the polar bear in the front yard? No? You're sure? Very well, move along.

Where the fuck would a polar bear come from, I'm in KY for fuck's sake.

Wish all these cops would stop staring at me, at least the chick walked away. Hmmm, I think the really cute one is staring at my tits. Yes, this is what it's like inside my head, plotting and talking to myself about what other people are looking at and what they look like, welcome to the world according to me. Now, who in my 'hood do I hate enough to blame this on?

Those fucking idiots in the clown house across the street. The mental image of the 400lb man in the towel comes painfully flashing through my still scarred mind. I quickly recover and paste a gentle smile on my face.

Actually, Officer Phenomenal Body, it is possible that the Pet Rescue Society, located in that cute little ramshackle hovel just over there could be the animals rightful home. Why, late last year they had a runaway manbeast. It was quite frightening. More so than this polar bear, if I do say so. *batting eyelashes now* (something about a man who knows how to handle a door ram)

Well, Miss Wicked, the animal is on your property, so if they don't claim it, I will have to cuff you and take you into custody.

Cuff me, but you don't even know me?

I'm really sorry but it seems it's been in your yard most of the day. I don't have much of a choice.

Uh, not to sound bitchy or anything, but look around, given your options, wouldn't you hang out in my yard too? Just sayin.

Ahh, their laughing. That's good. Right? I mean, I've never had hot agent types come after me before, but that has to be a good thing.

So, like, who comes and gets the ginormous polar bear out of my yard?

Animal control is already on the way, they were actually supposed to arrive on scene at the same time we did, but they got a little turned around.

Oh, used a GPS, huh? Those won't actually get you here. *I wink to appear unconcerned*

Right, we caught onto that. A couple of us are going to keep an eye on the bear, 2 will go over and talk to the people from this "Pet Rescue" place and I am going to stay here, sorry, but I have to keep an eye on you.

Right, I am the dangerous type. Can you at least come inside so I don't freeze to death?

Sure, I guess that will be alright.

He reached for his little earpiece and said he would be inside. I took a good look at him out of the glaring snow. My heavens, they really do train hard.

What the hell do you mean circus?? It's a little bitty house?

He was yelling into, well, nothing, but I always did wonder what they were yelling into when g-men and the like were using those little earpiece things.

Suddenly there was gunfire. He threw me to the floor and told me to stay down.

My children!

Where are they?


Safest place for them, crawl to the stairs and go to them, I will come to get you when it's safe.

I felt his hand, it stayed firmly pressed on me until my leg had gone from his reach, I made it to the basement door and down the steps to my kids where I reassured them. The gunfire rang out for hours. Okay, like 2 minutes, but fuck, it's guns, ya'll, that shit is stressful.

After a little more time had passed with the kids begging me not to go, I made my way to the top of the stairs, this is my house and I wasn't going to wait to be rescued. Fuck that. I opened the door and ran right into Officer Hot Body.

I said I would come get you.

Guess I have good timing.

Maybe I should cuff you just for not listening.

Maybe you should at least wait until your co-workers leave and I find a sitter for that kind of activity.

I grinned a Wicked grin.
Okay, so, clearly, there was no polar bear in my yard today. The clown house, while aptly named the clown house, isn't really a circus, well, it's a fucking circus, but not THE circus, just A circus. Sometimes I just write silly little stories with no point or purpose other than to amuse myself. Then, I delete them. I ate two brownies tonight. It's a sugar buzz. Sorry. More chocolate and sugar than I have had in several months. Blame it on the Topomax!!
See you tomorrow!

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

You Aren't Prince Honey, Enough With The Pussy Control

Yes, we are going there. Why not? I'm feeling inspired. Actually, by a few different things that I have read and a few different conversations that I have had with quasi-friends lately. I say quasi-friends because it's those people who you aren't really close to, people you would never share anything more than the name of the store where you found the cute bag you're carrying. Yet, for some reason, they feel the need to divulge way too much detail to you.

One in particular told me something that just annoyed the hell out of me. She left the conversation, well, unhappy. My honesty (ie, blunt nature) had not been welcomed. I guess she is more accustomed to the "You go girl" type reactions.

Her: If he doesn't fix it, he's not gonna see this pussy for weeks.
Me: You do realize you aren't the only one left walking around with one of those, right?

*crickets chirping*
So, maybe she didn't realize that? Maybe she thought not having sex with her boyfriend would really teach him? Oh yes, you read that right. BOYFRIEND! Not even married yet and she was going to refuse him sex. Are you fucking kidding me??!!! Even better, the "it" was the dishwasher in her apartment. The apartment that had a full time repairman, but he kind of creeped her out, so she was insisting that her boyfriend work all day, then come over and fix it. Bitch please!!

We long ago established I am not a fan of holding back the sex. I like the sex, why would I punish myself if I am upset with someone else? If I get mad at my boss, I don't suggest he pay me less. Same fucking principle, people. Intimacy is the payoff of a relationship. Sex helps to A:have mind blowing orgasms B:burn calories C:continue the physical attraction (every time you have sex with the same person, you find yourself more attracted to them, unless one of you has disengaged) D:strengthens the intimacy level between you.

Holding sex out as a reward for good behavior, or taking it away as a punishment for perceived bad behavior sends one signal and it is a relationship damaging signal. You don't desire your partner, you merely have sex with them as a favor. If that's really the case, WTF??!!

So, are you with a man who you simply don't desire or are you such a controlling bitch that you are willing to use your body and the foundations of your relationship with the man you love to get what you want? I'm just asking. I mean, I am manipulative and I'm a bitch, but never would I be that kind of cruel, heartless, bitch.

Men and women can be players, some will cheat, some will attempt to control. All of it is a game. A dangerous one. None of it has any place within a relationship. The only games that should take place inside a relationship involve experiments and French maid costumes.

Time for me to go to sleep now.......dream of Jimmy Fallon.......wonder what he thinks of chocolate vaginas.......

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

I'm Mother Nature's Bitch

Mid-evening post. What is this? Yeah, this is me being snowed in and pissed the hell off about it. This is what my poor car looks like right now.


Since it isn't exactly a 4-wheel drive, snow plow worthy, make it anywhere no matter what kind of vehicle, here I am. So, you get a bonus today.

It also means I am in a bad mood.

I was called a "sex blogger" recently. I'm not. I considered it for all of a half an hour. Looked at some real sex blogs. Nope, it's official. That's not me. I have been assured, though, that if I chose to do so, I have the knowledge necessary to be a sex blogger. Ego fed. That's always nice.

As you can see from my poor little car, we have more than 1/2 inch of snow, so there was no school today, they have also called it off for tomorrow already. Joy. I love having my kids around. After they have been at school all day. I really like my alone time. When am I supposed to look at all of those sex blogs and internet porn??? The. Fuck.

I have an appointment with my neurologist tomorrow and I LOVE to fuck with him because, well, he's a neurologist so he has NO, I repeat, NO sense of humor. So, I think I am going to spend about 3 hours tonight gathering symptoms from several different neurological disorders completely unrelated to what is wrong with me or the possible side effects of my meds and start rattling them off tomorrow. Then, when he starts to freak out, just say, "Psych!" He will be confused, his head will hurt, then I will kindly offer him a Topomax, followed with a warning that he will lose his appetite and suffer from loss of concentration and occasional numbness in his hands and feet. HA! I crack myself up! Which is good, because the joke will be totally lost on him.

Of course, this entire plan will be shot if we get the extra snow and ice that is predicted and my snow covered car becomes buried completely. *sigh* Mother Nature is a bitch. Like a bitch who seems to be going through the change. I used to really love her. But now, much like my aunt, she just seems to constantly be wreaking havoc and making everyone miserable. We are all just waiting her out. Whore. Can't you have a hot flash or something. I am over your frigid ass.

Alright, well, I shall see you boys and girls at my normal insanely late time, because I don't sleep like normal people. Later..........

Wicked Girls.......We Aren't Your Target Audience

Did you see The Bachelor last night? Do I still have eyes in my head? Then obviously, no one in my home turned on the show where 20 or more desperate fucking women flaunted their bodies on national television, each trying to sleep with the same man, spending a grand total of probably 2 hours with him, then sobbing and declaring their love for him as he picks them off one by one until he narrows it down to the one fortunate(?) enough to be his bride to be, maybe. That's entertainment. Or fucking not. Really, who the hell is watching this??!! No, really, if you, my readers, my beloveds, are watching this, speak up and tell me why, I beseech you. Do they give shoes away during the commercials???

Then we have Wife Swap. I actually have caught entire episodes of this. I admit, guiltily, my need to understand dysfunctional humans (aka hatred of them) pulled me into this show. Wives who insist on not cleaning their homes and letting their children eat entire bottles of ketchup for breakfast being sent into homes where they eat all organic foods and prepare the meals together as a family, running the household like a well oiled and overly structured machine. Everything to extremes. You never like any of them. They are all caricatures of real people. Idiots, extremists, damaging their children, adults who throw tantrums on national tv and in front of their children. All for what? That flash of fame? Moment of glory? Glory? Shoot me now if this is what our world has to look forward to going forward.

Our country saw a vice presidential candidate who just gave a speech using the phrase "hopey changey thing". You know what, Alaska isn't the only place they teach women how to hunt, dumbass. Keep making us look stupid. Every time that bitch opens her mouth our entire sex looks dumber. Why? Because some asshole on the RNC board realized McCain was old and ugly and thought she would balance it out. Fuck! Did nobody breed a relatively young, attractive republican woman with a functioning brain?? WTH??!! As for the note on her hand, whatthefuckever, it probably just said "don't wink at the camera, dipshit!"

Maybe I am being too harsh. Perhaps all of these people are very smart. It has long been a practice by some to pretend they are stupid. Maybe Ms. California really was a brilliant girl, she was just playing to the audience she expected to be watching a beauty pageant. Maybe Sarah Palin is very intelligent, she was just trying to play to the average Republican. (rim shot, sorry, couldn't resist! why do you guys still love me?) Maybe the girls on The Bachelor are very intelligent, smart enough to know they would never get on the show if they let it be known they were smarter than the creators, who are clearly not intelligent enough to come up with a story line, plot or script. Big kudos do go to the girl who was smart enough to just skip the manwhore (nothing but love for my manwhores, mind you) and just start sleeping with the host! As for the Wife Swap people, no, they really are just assholes and idiots bent on fucking up their children and I hate them all.

I have played the seductress. I have played innocent. I have played the naughty girl, oh wait, that one isn't so much of an act. I have taken on many roles in the dance between the sexes. One thing I have simply never been able to stomach is that of the stupid girl. I've seen it done, played to perfection. I have seen it reel guys in over and over again. Each time I sat back and looked at them with one thought clear in my mind. Never, not for one moment, would one of those men hold my interest for five minutes. Men who desire a stupid woman do so for simple reasons. Fear or lack of self esteem. I have a low tolerance for both in my men. I need a man who is neither afraid of me nor uncomfortable with himself. Stupid doesn't suit me. Not on me nor on my men.

But I do like fun. So, I am off to dream of Jimmy Fallon!