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Friday, March 19, 2010

It's time.........Let's Hope

www.wickedgirlsthinkit.com is up and running and todays new post is there. Please reset your feeds and add the new site. By please I mean, Seriously PLEASE! Plus, the new site rocks!! It's much less busy background and overall sleek look is pretty sweet, so slide on over and let me know what you think. Even you lurkers, chime in and let me know........you can do it, I have Wicked strong faith in you!!

Thursday, March 18, 2010

What Ashley Judd and I Have In Common


Well, the first and most obvious, we were both raised in Kentucky.

We both are fairly certain to be brunettes.

She is older than I am, but just barely.

We are both members and staunch defenders of the far left side of the Democratic party. Active ones, I might add, not the quiet ones who just go vote and complain to friends about how other people don't fix things throughout the rest of the year.

We both like Scottish guys.(she married one)

We are both currently furthering our education, much to the confusion of many around us. More so in her case, what with her being a multi-millionaire, but I do still have people asking me why I am bothering since I don't need to further my education to make more than the average woman does in Kentucky. Ummm, yeah, because THAT is my life goal. REALLY??!!

Then there is the Wildcat Factor. (some of you saw this coming....right?)


Yeah, Ashley and I share a deep love of all things University of Kentucky Wildcat related. We read, we follow politics, we can manage to hold intelligent conversation, but none of these things mean we aren't also capable of breaking down the man to man defense benefits verses a zone defense strategy when playing a team like Florida. Or why we are so over the moon thrilled to have players like John Wall and Demarcus Cousins, who have brought fun back to Kentucky basketball. Yes, we are both intelligent women who have full lives, but we drop virtually everything come tournament time to support our boys in blue.

It needs to be said for all who don't know, which I can only imagine is pretty much all of you, that this team is comprised of almost all freshmen. That's right, 18 and 19 year olds. I look at my son and the Irishman who lives in my Basement. I think of how they would react if the entire sports nation was watching their every move. If, like they did to Demarcus Cousins, an entire campus phoned and texted him for 3 days prior to a game because a student had gotten his cell number and distributed it throughout the campus. Yeah, we won that game. In fact, if you watched that whole video, he would be the big guy, who dunked the ball, then turned and made the call me signal. Yeah, I love him. I love that every place they have gone this year they have had huge targets on their backs and they have played with all out guts and smiles. They like one another. It shows when they win and even though they have only lost twice, it showed then, too. I like these guys! Yes, I like basketball, but more importantly, something about this group of guys just has me attached on an emotional level. I want to hug them after every game. Maybe dance with them. Although, not that dumbass dance!

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Wicked Wednesday Q & A

Happy St Fucking Patrick's Day!

Let us begin tonight's questions. I must say, I am verrrryyyy disappointed in my Wee wicked Ones, we have a mere 4 questions tonight. *sigh*

Alas, I will answer them with Wicked candor........

Wicked Question #1 Some friends of ours are trying to get us to go to a swing club with them and try out the lifestyle. Advice? Well, my dearest, so many thoughts dance through my head right now. Of course, having an overwhelming urge to go to Burning Man this year, where I would take tons of Ecstasy and no doubt engage in swinging activities myself, I may be somewhat skewed on this topic(totally kidding family members who might accidentally happen upon this, or not *ahem*)Then there is that whole bizarre Eyes Wide Shut swingers thing, which was really creepy and I never really understood and I am fairly certain is the real reason Tom and Nicole broke up, not the swinging, just the crappy movie. Then there is this:
Truly happy couple
Ugly Girls Pictures!
But, seriously, if you are BOTH ok with the concept, then it is your relationship to do with what you wish. I will point out one thing, the fact that you didn't jump at the chance and instead paused to seek advice from a blogger, even though it is an obviously brilliant blogger such as myself, makes me think maybe one of you is a bit more into the idea than the other. This is totally not something you want to enter into one sided. It's not like a good birthday gift idea. Just sayin.

Wicked Question #2 If you could be the best at anything in the world, what would you choose? I would definitely be the best Bond girl ever. That is just so simple it's ridiculous. They go to the coolest parties. Drive the badass cars in the best locations. Daniel Craig. Super sweet guns. Sleuth moves. Plus, they always have the sweetest fucking names on the planet. I want a Bond girl name, for real! Bonus, no one ever forgets a Bond girl. Even if it's the only movie you ever make, I mean, really, Ursula Andress, hello? Why do I even remember her name? That's right, Bond girl. So yeah, I would be the best damn Bond girl ever!!

Wicked Question #3 from pattypunker: what mad skills do you consider yourself having? Well, I am Wicked good with the culinary arts, truth! I do the mom of teenagers thing pretty good, all things considered. I have wild abandon, which, I am learning, is a Wicked good trait and I have to learn to appreciate it more. I also am really good at letting go of the bullshit everyday stuff, not letting it all build up in me, just rant for five and let it go, hella skill, makes life so much easier! I am an artist, some who look at my oil paintings would say I'm mad.....bwahahaha. I can ride a mechanical bull for 38 seconds. Oh yeah, if Ludacris is reading this I can get really low, like all the way to the flo.....that's right....

Wicked Question #4 when you wake up in the morning, do you feel like p. diddy?
Well, first off, it's been a week or two since I woke up in a bathtub. ;-)
Second, I would never rinse my mouth out with Jack, I am more of a "rinse my mouth out with Woodford" kind of girl, Jack is just so low end. Puh-lease! But, clearly this was a cry for a video moment, so here ya go!

It was only four, but they were a good four, hope you enjoyed!!

Multi-Tasking Is A Pain In The Ass...And Happy St Fucking Patrick's Day

Being a modern woman pretty much wears me the fuck out sometimes. Can I just cook and clean for like, a week? Wear some heels and pearls and have dinner ready? Without doing the whole kids running 14 places and blogging and classes and taking care of my grandfather and did people get cancer in the day of the Cleavers? By the way, who nicknames their son after their vagina? WTF?? Isn't that a little strange? Just sayin.

Oh yeah, Happy St. Patrick's Day.

I can't decide if I want a personal assistant or a maid. Really, both would be optimal. But, I'm trying to be reasonable. Well, reasonable might be overstating, but, more reasonable than usual, that's more like it. So, in an effort to be open, because some blog somewhere said bloggers are supposed to be naked,as in open about themselves(although I would way rather just sit here naked and make shit up, after all, I specialize in fiction writing) I hate cleaning, so I am leaning towards a maid. I love to cook, so she/he can just clean and do laundry, we have lots of laundry, like a ridiculous amount of fucking laundry. Between me, He Who Loves All Things Wicked, the 17 year old Narcissist, the 14 year old Drama Queen and the Irishman in the Basement, oh hell, I have never told you about the Irishman in the Basement, yeah, I have one of those. Doesn't everyone? Well, I do, no joke, it's not some sort of St Patrick's Day joke, I really do.

He's 18, he was a little bit homeless, similar to being a little bit pregnant or slightly dead, but more like kind of living in your truck because your prickish parents kicked you out of your house even though you were still in high school. So, we figured, hey, we have room, what the fuck, so, yeah, I have an Irishman in the Basement.

So, back to my predicament.......yeah, multi-tasking, taking care of everyone else, the house, the writing, the classes, the food, the friends. The thing is, it wouldn't be so bad, but inevitably, somebody feels the need at least once a week to express their feelings of disappointment that they aren't getting quite enough of my attention. Now, if this were one of my kids, I would be devastated, because obvs, they should get as much of my time and attention as they want, but NOOOOOO, it's not them, it's almost always somebody else. WTF??!!! You people are fucking adults!! Really!!??!! Take care of your fucking selves for a week or two.

Have I ever mentioned that I have insomnia, yeah, so for those of you not familiar with the concept, it pretty much means, no matter what time I lay myself down in my cozy little bed, I won't fall asleep until, oh, I don't know, 2am if I'm lucky. Have I also mentioned that He Who Loves All Things Wicked is on a totally fucked up rotation and we are getting up at 4:30am every day right now? Do the math....that's right, 2 1/2 hours of sleep, when I'm lucky. Some days, I do attempt to sneak in a nap, but, most of those days, people call me. Why do they call me, because of something earth shattering like, they are bored. Or, they want to know how to cook a turkey breast so it will stay juicy. But, because of my grandfather and my dad and because I have kids, I have to leave my fucking phone on. So, life is beautiful and I need Xanax maybe. Ya think??

Oh yeah, Happy St Patrick's Day.

It's also becoming increasingly difficult to stay up to date on the Healthcare Reform status, the NCAA brackets and my new favorite TV cartoon, Archer. See, I believe firmly and fully that it is ridiculous that we don't have a national healthcare system in place already and if we fail to pass one soon I may commit another partial murder. So it is important that I stay up on this situation.

My University of Kentucky Wildcats have finally employed a worthy coach and have a team of players who enjoy playing basketball again, thereby making it enjoyable to watch them play basketball again, so it is extremely important that I keep myself available to do this at every possible opportunity.

Archer is the raunchiest, funniest, naughtiest cartoon ever to hit broadcast tv, I couldn't ask for anything more. It is on FX and if you haven't seen it, you are missing out, watch it, you will be horrified and fascinated all at once. Just make sure there are no kids in the room! By no kids, I am talking no one under the age of, like, 21!! Yeah, it's that good!!!

Oh yeah, Happy Fucking St. Patrick's Day!

It's Wednesday, 5pm is the cutoff for this evening's Wicked Wednesday Q&A See you then!!

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Why I Want To Murder People, Just A Little.....

Ever overhear things, or people say things to you, in passing or during a conversation and you just want to take them out, you know, slip the knife out of your boot and slash their throat....just a little. Not kill them completely, just a little dead. Maybe, 3/4 of the way dead. That would be good. Kind of similar to those people who say they feel a "little bit pregnant." Because that shits possible, ya' know? I often found myself being a little bit pregnant in life. Thankfully they had those semi abortion clinics for those moderately pregnant people, for non-committal parents. WTF!! Anyway, here are a few recent comments that made me just a modicum homicidal.

"Yeah, I hate reality TV too. But, I do like Jersey Shore, those people crack me up, oh and The Hills, I am addicted to those people. I kind of like The Biggest Loser, but only if there is nothing else on, ya know. Have you ever watched Parental Control, it's pretty cool." WTF??!! Do you need a definition of REALITY TV, bitch??!!

(said by girl wearing white tank top with no bra)"It's annoying, ever since I went to the DD cup size, all guys do is stare at my breasts, like, I do still have a face, hello, it's just like, 12 inches above my tits" (at this point I am eavesdropping, but burst out laughing anyway, ummm, no, her fake tits were not sagging so badly that her face was 12 inches from her DD's, and it wasn't just guys, everyone was staring, but not at her DD's, her nipples were like lasers, you couldn't miss them)

Parent:If you don't stop I am going to jerk your arm off.
Child:You said I could have a nickel every time you threatened to jerk my arm off, can I have my nickel now?
(this exchange makes me want to partially murder both of them, the parent because REALLY, you're threatening to rip his arm off??? The kid because, seriously, it's just a matter of time until this kid sees the inside of our taxpayer supported justice system)

My Son:Oh man mom, you should have seen how good I looked doing push ups, I was in front of ______(my daughter's) mirror watching myself doing them, yeah, I'm awesome.
Me:Jesus Christ, son. And no, I don't mean that as in, you are the second coming of Christ, before you even go there.
My Son:Nah, I wouldn't want to be, he pretty much got screwed the first time around, if you believe the stories.
(this makes me want to commit a tiny bit of murder/suicide because while I have raised very intelligent, well behaved children, they are just as cocky and probably bigger smart asses than even I am, you're welcome!)

Cashier:That'll be $9.81.
Me: (hands cashier $10 bill) Ok, here ya' go. How are you today? (my bad)
Cashier: I'm good thanks. Oh shoot, I keyed this in as a $100 bill, can you wait while I get a calculator?
Me:Umm, it's ok, my change is .19. No need for a calculator.
Cashier:(now eyeing me suspiciously, like I have just pulled off some major con, what with speaking to her congenially AND being able to subtract without a calculator) Well, just to be safe, I better get a calculator.
Me:Yes, you better, what with the complicated algorithms involved in subtracting 9.81 from $10. We will all just wait here. (I turn to the man in line behind me) Sorry, I shouldn't have spoken to her.
Man in Line:Not your fault, we were already fucked, she's chewing gum.
(Win/win here, I simultaneously found someone I wanted to murder a little bit(cashier) and random stranger to hug(man in line))

So, when in doubt, don't forget to pack your cute little lady-like boot knife, and remember, sandal season is coming, so dress accordingly and start seeking out a super stealthy knife that will slip into other easy to access spots. Also, make sure you never fully murder anyone, after all, that would be like getting all the way pregnant.

PS, this weeks questions for Wicked Wednesday's Q&A are looking pretty interesting so far, if you have one you were thinking about submitting, be sure to get it in before 5pm EDT Wednesday.

Monday, March 15, 2010

You Might Be A Hoebag If............

We are gonna break it down on the real simple for you slow girls today. First let's make it clear, there is nothing wrong with having your fun. There is nothing wrong, in my opinion, and no, it is not fucking humble, with having multiple partners. As long as it is by choice, for fun and not reassurance of your own worth and done safely. With that said, there is a difference in that lifestyle choice and just plain out being a hoebag. So, let's get to business.

#1Sign You Are A Hoebag Your name is Rielle Hunter
hunter, rielle
Okay, you slept with a married Senator, no biggie, I (didn't)sleep with a Senate hopeful. You had a baby with him, you let his supporters put you up in nice homes, bleeding them dry and living off of them, living with Andrew Young AND his wife, pretending Mr Young was yo baby daddy, until it better suited you to tell the truth. You may or may not have video taped yourself doing the dirty with Sen. Edwards, without messing up that perfect hair of his, I'm sure. But none the less, all of this and now, today I find that, so as not to let me forget your past hoebag actions, you've posed suggestively with the former Senator's child's stuffed animals. Thank you. I am submitting your photo to urbandictionary.com to appear beside the word hoebag, cause honey, you fucking nailed it!!

#2 Sign That You Are A Hoebag You walk into a room on a Thursday during lent, people start to sniff the air around you then ask if it is already Friday. Yeah, I went there! Wash your vagina girl, nothing says hoebag like a smelly coochie.

#3 Sign You Might Be A Hoebag Baby daddy 1-Jail, Baby daddy 2-Whereabouts unknown, Baby daddy 3- Identity questionable, Baby daddy 4- Narrowed down to just 2, but it's a tough call since they are brothers. Yes girl, you are a hoebag!! Buy you a fake Chanel and hit the flea market to find those babies some Sketchers!

#4 Sign You Might Be A Hoebag The marching band at your high school spells out your name during their field performance, all in agreement, boys, girls and band instructor, that you were the single greatest influence on them during the year. Oh yeah, don't forget that one time at band camp......

#5 Sign You Might Be A Hoebag You have ever been shown a naked photo of yourself that you didn't know was taken, but clearly did pose for and enjoyed doing so, especially if said photo involved numerous other people engaged in sexual acts with you. It's one thing to decide to allow someone to take pix, another to just have that shit happening, that's hoebaggery at it's finest, congratulations!!

So, here is the sliding scale.....if you answered yes to number one, you are automatically a hoebag. Sorry, no return from that level.
Yes to any one of the others, possible recovery, with the exception of #3, I mean, assuming you have heard of things like Roe V. Wade and The Morning After Pill *sigh* nevermind.
Answer yes to two or more of the others, you are destined for a life of hoebagginess. Enjoy your hoebag lifestyle, it's not like you can't still love yourself and all of those around you. Just, ya' know, think about washing up a bit first. birth control is an option, too. Just sayin.

Anyway, it's Monday, Wicked Wednesday is just around the corner, hit me up with any questions you may have.

Sunday, March 14, 2010

Wicked Social Sledgehammer

Everyone has heard the phrase, someone complains, often validly, about something that has happened to them and the only response their audience can come up with is a brilliant, "Dude, life's a bitch". Nice, right. Just the kind of moral support someone going through hard times was seeking. Of course, if you are spilling your guts to a friend, you should really know that person well enough to know how that person is going to respond. Hence, if that person is a "life's a bitch" kind of person, don't whine to them. Unless, of course, that is the response you are seeking.

Surprisingly to some of you, I am not that kind of friend. If something bad has happened to you, I will listen, commiserate, try to help, support and be there.Now read that last statement again. it bears an important qualifier. If something bad has happened to you You see, if nothing bad has happened to you, if you simply make bad choices, are self destructive, like to whine just to get attention, etc then life is no longer the bitch, I am!

I tend to weed these people from my life rather efficiently, but there are some who you really can't do that with, be they familial obligations, friends of He Who Loves All Thing Wicked, co-workers, whatever, but sometimes they are just unavoidable. Which is unfortunate. For them. I have a low tolerance level. I am not shy, I have never been shy. I have never found it difficult to speak my mind, quite the opposite, I find it virtually impossible not to speak my mind. You may call me a social sledgehammer.

I can be the sweetest most loving person in the world. Trust me, I am very good at this self evaluation stuff. You want me in your corner. But if I have no emotional connection to you and yours and you have crossed me or someone I even have a mild affection for, you seriously need to find a way to get away from me. I will publicly humiliate you.

I bring all of this up because it happened at the casino last night. Playing at a table with a group of strangers, a dealer I knew and one guy who I have played with once before, nice guy, good sense of humor. A new guy sat at the table and made it clear that his intention was to take out myself and the other woman sitting at the table. He made this clearer when he did take the other woman out by actually saying, "That's why women have no business playing poker". I sat quietly, her husband was at the table and he didn't sit quietly for that one, I just let it go, tilting at poker is the worst, as with anything in life, letting you adversary get under your skin gives them a huge advantage. Worse yet, letting them know they have gotten under your skin, gives them an opportunity to pick at the wound. I folded a few times, then excused myself from the table, went to the floor manager and told her to move me to another table.

I returned to my table just in time for a forced blind hand, which I played, fortunately for me it was a really good hand. Mr. Charm and Sunshine stayed in. I played the hand strong at first and he called me, I had 3 of a kind on the flop, with no potential danger of being beaten at that time, he called me, leaving just the two of us. Next card turned and I checked it to him, deciding to slow play and let him think I was afraid of him, he bet into me, I just called. Last card (river card) did no possible damage to me, I doubled his last bet, he called me. He proudly displays top pair, I turn over my set, smiled and said "See, cocky, miscalculating punks like you are exactly why girls do play poker" and I racked my chips. All of the other guys at the table congratulated me and were laughing, I told them all to have a great night and enjoy taking his money while he was on tilt, no doubt sending him deeper into tilt mode. Most people would have just quietly left, but that would have left me feeling unsatisfied. His comment to the lady he took out earlier was rude and disrespectful and her husband really enjoyed it when I cut down so many of his chips AND insulted him. He had been rude and cocky with all of the men at the table, who really were a friendly group. He needed to be brought down. I am just the girl for that kind of thing.

Is it sweet? No. The thing is, I don't need everyone to like me. What would it say about me if everyone who met me, assholes and good people alike, all liked me? Bland. No real personality. Who tries to make everyone like them? Children. While I want to retain some of my child like qualities, that is definitely not one of them. Do I get the random, "Wow, that was a bit much, don't you think?" Yes, I hear that sometimes. Is it a bit much at times, eh, maybe. But, I am also told I own too many shoes and too many purses. Clearly, opinions on such things vary.

On the flip side, while sitting in my precious car, which I adore, the other day, an elderly woman was getting in a van parked beside me, when she opened her door the wind caught it and crashed it into my car so hard it shook my car. She was horrified. Immediately looked in at me and apologized, looked at my car..she looked so frail, she had been up in the treatment center receiving chemo where my dad was, I just smiled and said it was ok. Of course my stomach was in knots at what I was going to see when I checked it, but, really, what the hell do you do?

Am I a vicious bitch at times, a social sledgehammer who will call you out and embarrass you for your offenses? Hell yes. Do I feel even the slightest bit of remorse about that? What do you think?

PS Wicked Wednesday questions need to be submitted through formspring no later than Wednesday at 5pm Eastern time. thanks to all who have been submitting. Keep them coming!!

Saturday, March 13, 2010

Room With a Wicked View

Why is it when you watch a porn video you see women with insanely large breasts and tiny waists, spindly legs, bare vaginas, lips that have usually been pumped full of collagen and nails entirely too long for anything other than, well, porn? But when you go to dinner with some friends and couples show up there are lots of normal women around the dining table. How did all these women, including yourself, ever land a guy? Clearly, these guys just settled for a pitiful substitute of their dream woman, right?

Every guy dreams of the porn star, right? She gives perfect blow jobs. She doesn't ask anyone to take out the trash. She touches herself at completely inappropriate times, which is a huge turn on. Obviously! She offers up her vagina and her ass to men and women indiscriminately. She is like a sexual toy who just leaks natural lubricant. What more could a guy want? Oh, and don't forget that she talks dirty, well, sort of. I mean, they aren't usually very convincing and they almost always look a little bored, but with those giant, perfectly shaped fake breasts, what man in his right mind is looking at her facial expression anyway?

Then, there is that perfectly shaped ass. Let's talk about that perfectly rounded porn star ass. Holy Hell, how badly would I love to have that perfect porn star ass. I mean, I have an ass. It's not giant, it's not tiny, but by no means is it that perfect porn star ass. Damn, to have THAT ass!! I am really beginning to think the only way to get that ass is to fuck for 12 hours a day. Don't get me wrong, I am willing to sacrifice and try that type of workout to attain that shape of ass. I envy that ass shape with everything in me.

But, back to my point, which is, how do the normal, or even slightly above average, but still below porn status, women of the world ever attain a man. Let's be honest, men in porn are sub standard almost as a standard. I've got 2 words for you to prove my point on this one. Ron Jeremy. What. The. Fuck. I wouldn't have done him with someone else's vagina. Come on now. But he got to fuck some of the hottest girl's alive at that time. As if! So, what gives. Men watch porn, women watch porn. Porn tells men that no matter how unattractive they are, ridiculously hot women will fuck them right and proper. How in the hell did they come to realize, at some point, that it wasn't true?

When do you think we showed them that this was a fallacy? That once again Hollywood was tricking them. Do they know it instinctively? Do they somehow believe the women with them are their own personal porn stars? Somehow I doubt that. I am curious about your thoughts on this one. Please do share!!

Friday, March 12, 2010

Guest Post On Toy With Me

I am the Friday featured guest on Toy With Me, a fun and fabulous site full of sex, laughs and reviews. Please do head over there and check it out. I am super excited, plus the piece is fairly entertaining, as well. Just click on the title of this post and you will be magically transported!!

Thursday, March 11, 2010

Wicked Tough Decisions

One of the questions from last night was "What do I want to be when I grow up?" Which I answered with complete candor, I fully believe we should all strive to retain a little bit of the child in us. The ability to be amazed by the world around us. Which, in essence was my answer to the anonymous questioner.

Upon pondering the question during my downtime today, which I had a shit ton of, I realized I still want to be a rock star when I grow up. Not literally, as I possess no musical talent. There is one song I can sing that drunk people really love to hear repeatedly, not karaoke, mind you, but with an actual microphone and stuff (Lover of All Things Wicked used to be lead singer for a band) But, no, I just mean I want to see my name in lights, all glittery and Vegas like, with throngs of people wanting to stand near me, take pictures with me. I could so live like that. Or not.

I also could live quietly just outside of Paris with frequent and very expensive trips to the city for shopping. Hosting visitors from around the world and having elegant dinner parties. Yes, that would work, too. I could totally pull it off, I am a wicked good cook.

Selling a few pieces of my artwork, ya' know, instead of letting them gather dust and create more work for me when spring cleaning time comes around. That would be good. Great. Fan-fucking-tastic. However, I am pretty sure you have to, oh, I don't know, hint around that a piece is for sell or not act like someone just made fun of you when they say they love something. Maybe not immediately telling "the aunts" they can have everything they say they like would be good, too.

Then there is my writing. A finished novel. It sounds so much more impressive than it is when it just sits. I have a blog. Ooooo aaahhh. I write every day to make sure I maintain some discipline. Wow, aren't you really something.

My mother pointed out to me today while we were sitting watching them pump the last of the toxins into my dad that she was 4 years older than I am now when she finished her nursing degree. Her point being, if I really want to make some changes, I have ample time to do so.

So, I think I am going to hone that fucking song and become a one hit wonder! Glitter me up bitches!! Here I come!! Check out the cover of the one song CD.....

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Wicked Wednesday Q & A

Yes, whew, it IS still Wednesday!! Damn, this is cutting it close. Let's get down and dirrrrty. Errr, wrong position, I mean post, yeah, post is what I meant. :-) So, here we go with this week's questions:

Are you wearing panties? Well, hello there, diving right in this week, aren't we. Yes, I am currently wearing panties anonymous questioner. But, if it is any consolation, they are very attractive panties.

Have these questions been as interesting as you hoped? Or were you expecting much racier?! I promise this is not a setup, they came to me in this order. Since most of my readers are not men seeking female cyber companions, no, I wasn't expecting men requesting naked pix. I enjoy the back and forth of the questions, whether they are about literature, porn or panties is of little consequence. For the record, there have been some extremely inappropriate ones and to save you the time, yes, I answered them.

What's for dinner? Well, tonight I made a stir fry, tomorrow is lemon pepper chicken breast served on a bed of fresh spinach leaves, topped with fresh mandarin orange slices, some roasted new potatoes and (in honor of Elly) maybe some creamed corn. As usual, thanks again manufacturers of Topomax, I will prepare it, look at it and then leave the room. Asshats!

What do I want to be when I grow up? Child-like. What I am trying to say is why are you focusing on growing up? Enjoy the now, be prepared for your future in the sense of financial planning, but otherwise, just do what you enjoy. Like, what do you want to be tomorrow morning?

If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be? Fifteen minutes outside of Paris. Close enough to go there at a moments notice, but not inside the city. Perfection.

Are you having any luck getting the blog moved? Oh don't I just wish that was a matter of luck. I am making progress. But, it is not a simple thing for me to do since I am trying not to lose any of my content. Grrrrr. Plus, what with the sex scandal, my grandfather being moved from one hospital to the other, my dad has his last treatment(YAY!) tomorrow, blah blah blah, it's just a crazy week. So, short answer, it is moving, but kind of at a snails pace.

Do you miss your friend Penny? What the hell? Did I lose her??? bwahahaha yes, she calls me but then she doesn't answer her phone when I call her back, the bitch!!!

On days you don't feel so wicked, what do you do to pick yourself back up? Oh dear, those days. Well, sometimes I just curl up with my laptop and bury myself in bloggy goodness, exploring other people's humor and trials and tribulations and ruminations and tweet with hilarious people who live in other states or other countries. Some days I call a good friend and drag my ass to lunch and laugh until we are both crying tears of happiness that we got together and visited for a while. Other times I just stop myself early on and remind myself how lucky I am to have the choice to be miserable when I wake up because I WOKE UP. Sometimes I call He Who Loves All Things Wicked and he tells me he loves me. Sometimes my 17 year old throws me over his shoulder like I am a rag doll and makes me laugh. Sometimes I just look in the mirror and laugh at my monstrous nose. Then I remind myself that I must love it because it looks so fucking cute on my daughter. Sometimes I crank up some really lively tunes and dance and sing until I can't feel my legs but I'm sure I feel better. All of this is leading to one thing. I control it, as do you, I can wallow in it or I can choose to move myself past it. It's just a day.

That's it for tonight boys and girls. I will be away for a good portion of the day tomorrow. Please do leave your comments and I will moderate as soon as I get home. I will also make my rounds to all of you when I get home.

Scandalous.......I Deny Everything

So the girls at Sex and Fries ( sexnfries.blogspot.com ) AKA Lizzy and Elle, are bored. We haven't had a truly good sex scandal since Tiger and let's face, even he wasn't really all that shocking or exciting for most of us. Really, an athlete was cheating on his model wife? *yawn* I mean, the guy walked around through life calling himself Tiger, for fuck's sake, who really didn't see this coming? Not one to just sit by and leave fellow bloggers in a lurch when I am in possession of a juicy tale of sex and intrigue, I offered to give them their fix. So, down the rabbit hole we go again.............

So, here I am at my 4:30am press conference.
Photobucket(yeah, I held it from my living room sofa, it was early, you're lucky I got dressed...no, I take that back, you're not..but I digress)Note, I am really good at the "Don't ask me another dumbass question like that or I will have my gang friends kick you out of my press conference" face.

Anyway, I had to hold my press conference to deny the rumors that I, your very own, precious, sweet, innocent, Wicked Shawn have been carrying on a torrid love (by love I mean purely for the steamy hot sex) affair with one of the Democratic Senate candidates for the soon to be vacated Senate seat now held by Jim Bunning.
Not that I am sleeping with either of these gentlemen, but here is a peek at the two men I am not sleeping with, because I am a smart girl and I have met President Clinton and he did teach me something. (other than the fact that I am not able to maintain my cool in the presence of anyone no matter who it is). He taught me no matter what the evidence. DENY, deny, deny.

Photobucket This is Senate candidate Jack, who I am not sleeping with, of course.

Photobucket This is Dr. Daniel Mongiardo, who is a really nice guy, but, yeah, not my type. Ooops, have I given too much away?

Anyway, as I explained to the reporters. (well, okay, the reporter......okay, fine, the goth weather chick from the local NBC affiliate) I am denying the rumors.

I am not sexing up either of our hopeful soon to be Senators. We did not have sex on the Governor's desk while he was meeting with his new running mate and former Mayor for Life in Louisville. These rumors must stop.

Also, for the record, that was not a sex doll. I was merely showing a friend around the State Capitol after hours and she wasn't feeling well. I was dragging her lifeless body helping her up the steps and into the dark building where only Jack and the cleaning crews remained.

I also feel it needs to be stated that no, I would never find it acceptable to allow an incredibly smart, well intentioned, upwardly mobile, super hot politically active guy to proposition me quietly while we were standing in middle of a crowd. If he whispered in my ear, I am sure he was asking for a quiet location to place a call to his wife. You people are ridiculous.

Nor is it true that during my time on the road for a previous job with the circus did I perform bedroom acrobatics for free for said candidate. Also, it is important to note that any money that may or may not have exchanged hands NEVER came from any campaign funds.(at least, that's what I was told, I mean, if I had ever been in that situation, that's what I would have insisted on being told)

It is also worth pointing out that while it makes for great rumors, I am not even sure it is physically possible to place an internet predator list there, so I am DEFINITELY denying that!!! Don't get me wrong, that piece of legislation definitely made me hot, but, damn you people have some dirrrrty minds.

As for the insinuation that there was some sort of exchange around Valentine's Day of chocolate vaginas. Well, wrong J name. Sorry, Jack, hope it didn't hurt your feelings that I sent those to Jimmy.

***Absolutely everything in this post is bullshit! Oh wait, that would mean that my denials were bullshit, thereby making it seem that there had been an affair.

****Absolutely everything in this post is true!! Ummm, you know what I mean, like, none of these things ever happened. Including the press conference though. totally made that part up. But I really do look that bad at 4:30am. Sorry for subjecting everyone to that.

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

Wicked Girl, Living Really Loudly!

Seriously, when I think it over, I ignore all of the warnings.

I drive too fast. I smoke. I am not quietly acquiescent. I had reckless sex with multiple partners (which, while dangerous, was a helluva lot of fun and I highly recommend it, just not to my daughter *ahem*) I don't follow the rules. Yet, here I am, just typing away. Safe and sound. What the hell. Why does it work out that way? Good fortune? Fate? I don't think so. I think I have this figured out. Of course, I can't share it with you or I would curse myself and die tomorrow, hell, maybe later today, but, trust me when I say, if you have been living carefully and following all the rules, you're missing out.

My great grandfather had this friend, he out lived my grandfather by 30 years, to the ripe old age of 97. Died just 2 years ago. This guy was a medical miracle, or at least an anomaly. He ate the most disgusting stuff, like sausage and biscuits and eggs smothered in gravy for breakfast EVERY morning, while smoking a filterless cigarette!! He drank coffee all day, every day. That was his idea of drinking water. I'm not joking, he would actually tell his doctor, "Last time I checked, you make coffee with water." Before you wonder too long, no, he didn't die of cancer, nor heart disease or any other expected ailment, he was cutting wood in preparation for the winter and a piece of wood kicked back and hit him, he died from a head injury sustained at age 97, while cutting wood. Yes, make sure you eat right and don't smoke. It will kill you.

I was diagnosed with cancer at age 19. I had smoked 3 cigarettes at that time in my life and led a healthy, well behaved life. Went to church every Sunday and Wednesday and minded my (now ex)husband.(yeah, you heard me, but wtf, I was 19, you know the new me, go back and read the first few posts if you are confused). I led a "good" life. I behaved. Followed the rules. Yet I found myself fighting for my life. A life I hadn't even enjoyed. Literally, during that time I realized, I hadn't enjoyed any of my time on this earth, at this point, I promised myself that WHEN I finished kicking cancer's ass, I would change that. Thus the Wicked being you are slowly developing a mad crush on.

During lunch with a girlfriend yesterday she was saying that some friends were pressuring her to take a trip with them but she really wanted to stay home to spend some time with a new guy she is seeing. She was advised by one of the friends that she couldn't just sit around waiting for him. Uh, hold on a minute. I am never all about just sitting around waiting for a guy, however, I am all about making your own choices. Doing what you want to do. Also, knowing this friend, if she really felt she would have more fun going on this trip, her shit would already be packed. My advice to her, do what the fuck ever is going to make you happiest. Always. That is always my advice. I never tell people, make the wisest choice.

In life we have choices, after my fight to the death(cancer's death, tyvfm)I could have crawled into a corner, hidden from the world, lived a "safe" life. I could drive slower, not parasail, not gone up in that hot air balloon, not be determined to go skydiving, I could not dance on bars, not ride mechanical bulls, but you know what, fuck that! I love my life! I love being me. I talk to people every day who ask what I have been doing, ask if I am feeling okay, if I have had any seizures lately, they are genuinely concerned and then their eyes narrow with envy as I tell them what I have been doing. I want to be me forever, I don't ever want to be that person again, the one with eyes narrowed and envy in their heart.

Life is short for all of us, even 97 years will pass far too fast, live it, every second of it to the fullest, making your own choices. Look at every opportunity as if you will never have it again, because guess what? You won't. The next time you get to do it, your mindset will be different. Your position in life will be different. Your attitude about things will be different and the things and people around you will be different.

I will lay awake at night and plan out my adventures and think of fantastic Global Warming Initiatives, Jimmy Fallon and how to store water color paints until I can develop some sembence of skill in that medium. I am fine with that. Then, during everyone else's waking hours, I will live out loud!

PS I love you all just loads, so ask some questions, otherwise, I am going to give my mom my blog addy and let her ask tomorrow's questions, in which case, she will read through your comments and ask what kind of freaks you are, picking you apart one by one. She already dislikes me......don't force me to unleash her on you. formspring me. I'm warning you!! ;-)

Monday, March 8, 2010

A Wicked Heads Up

Wanted to give all of my beautiful darlings (that would be you) a quick heads up (that would be advance notice) that my technologically challenged ass is attempting to move this sweet little bitch of a blog to a wordpress format on my own little privately owned site, where, at the suggestion of others, I will sell my soul to "the man". Well, hell, better than the first suggestion, which was, as per the usual, merely selling him some bits and pieces of the goodies. What with the bad economy and all.

Anyhow, so far I have managed to import all of the posts and comments without removing any of my hair or gouging anyone else's eyes out, which is quite an accomplishment, again, I am a writer, not a computer savvy girl. Don't doubt me on this, I can prove it.

It's a shame all of the themes and such for every single blog host site seems to suck ass as if they were trained by a pro, I am not promising anything spectacular, I do promise it will be a little easier to read, supposedly it will be easier for me to use (again, these fuckers don't understand the handicap I am dealing with, they assume ownership of a laptop implies knowledge, dipshits) Time will tell. At any rate, it will not hinder me from doling out Wicked rants, advice and posting Wicked Wednesday's Q & A, so be sure you ask some questions in formspring. I promise to hit the bottle and answer them for you. ;-)

Wicked Girls.....Have Better Things To Talk About.....

We all know them. Wicked girls simply aren't one of them. Take stock of yourself. A really hard look. No, really. Do you glance through the tabloids in the checkout line at the grocery, or do you excitedly buy it as soon as you see a new one? Do you just think it's horrible that John left Kate and took off with that other woman? Do you feel compelled to call friends and talk about it with your friends? Have you, at any point in your life, tried to discuss this woman's haircut with ANYONE?

Do you find yourself talking to one friend about the faults of your other friends? All of them. Some of them even perhaps personal issues that the friends in question possibly expect to be confidences between only the two of you.

You, my dears, have a problem. Basically, you need to invest some time in yourself, in getting a life of your fucking own. You are self-destructing. You will eventually destroy all of your existing friendships, as this is a horrible way to treat friends and chances are, if your friends have a brain in their head, they will realize, "Hey, if this person talks to me about ALL of their other friends, then they probably say shitty things about me to all of their other friends". How long do you figure that friendship is going to survive?

Gossip is a low level form of boredom. Boredom with your own life, really. When lacking anything truly interesting going on with yourself, replace conversation with interesting things going on in others. Or, distraction. When you are unhappy with the things going on in your own life, distract from it by pointing out the flaws in others. Neither of these tactics are acceptable. Fix your own fucking life, boys and girls! Oh, yeah, guys, you are SO included in this. Don't even try to put it off on the ladies. Men are as bad, sometimes worse, so don't sit there tsk, tsking with some superior attitude. I'm not falling for it.

Go bungee jumping, pick up a new hobby, dance on a bar, table, lap, whatever. Liven your own life up a little. Make your own story more interesting. Stop the need to tell other people's story. I promise you, more people will be drawn to you when it is your own life you want to talk about during everyday conversation. No one wants to walk away from a day at the spa or a game night and wonder what the hell their so called friend is going to tell people, real or lies, about them for the next week. Not every one is like me. Some of you actually give a fuck what the story is, so choose your friends mindfully, gossipers will gossip about you just as quickly as they gossip to you. If you are a gossiper, stop it and find something more interesting to do with your time.

PS. Wednesday questions need to be submitted to formspring by Wednesday @ 5pm EST please. Ask anything, but I must warn you, I plan to drink a bottle of wine before I answer any questions. Might not be a good time to request information on how to fill out the FAFSA!!

Sunday, March 7, 2010

Wicked Girls....Probably Don't Meet Their New Man Online Because...

......this just isn't likely to be your dream guy.

Is it about your age group? That was proposed to me earlier this week. That my inability to grasp the concept of falling in love with someone and dropping my real world life to go be with someone I have never met had more to do with my generational issue. The fact that I didn't have a Blackberry in my hand at age 12, access to an internet chat room from birth. I gave this serious thought.

Then, I laughed my fucking ass off. Sorry, but I did. No, I really laughed at it. Here is the thing. The people I know who have done this have been of varying age groups. It's not about any sort of generational issue whatsoever. It is a social matter. People who are having a hard time meeting individuals in a normal social setting, for various reasons, are the one's who are doing this. Age is not the deciding or even a determining factor. From teens to late sixties, this decimating the generational argument. Thus bringing us back to a need for social interaction.

My point in the discussion, to catch you up to speed, is that you can't know someone, truly know them, until you have looked into their eyes, seen them, touched them, tasted them, words, while providing some insight, on the internet especially, can be carefully chosen or even stolen, therefore are unreliable. One could take on any persona they chose while on the internet and run wild with it. I find the possibilities frightening, really.

Let us not confuse the topic:

Reconnecting with former loves, as many are doing, or even building stronger connections with old acquaintances, through social networking sites such as Facebook is a different sort of thing.

Match.com or some of the other dating sites, where you briefly communicate with someone then start dating, also not what we are talking about here.

Let me be more specific and give a clear example of the type of relationship I am addressing here. http://www.cnn.com/2008/WORLD/europe/11/14/second.life.divorce/index.html
The really "special" thing about this story, Second Life, the virtual world featured here, is also a community that is very involved in Amnesty International, Global Warming Initiatives, Peace World Movement, some rather high minded stuff...you would think that it might have struck the creators that giving the avatars the ability to have sex (yes, the avatars can physically have sex and you can guide them through the motions, one of my author friends is an admin for the site and she has gone into great detail explaining for me) would at some point diminish the overall point of the site.

World of Warcraft, many relationships have blossomed between gamers.

Twitter, can you fall for someone in 140 characters or less? I dare say it is happening, over and over.

Chat rooms and online games are still flooded by lonely people who are hooking up and meeting up. With mobile access to their online sites, people never lose touch with their cyber loves. They feel as if they are tethered to one another, that final step to being together as natural as going to the grocery store.

But what happens when the fairy tale is over? When your on the doorstep. What happens when 6' tall is 5'8" and 180 lbs is really 215 lbs. When "likes to read poetry in bed" really just meant "likes to read the comics from this morning's paper"? What if that basement apartment happens to be under his mother's house? What about that wonderful surprise visit you decided to make after all this time only to have the door opened by the woman he's been married to for 15 years?

The real world is the Wicked playground. We are social creatures, if you aren't by nature, develop it, ease yourself into it, slowly force yourself. It provides you a safety net you will come to appreciate. The internet is a fun place to visit, but you don't want to live here, think of it as Mexico (sorry, but it's true, let's face it, no one wants to live in Mexico)

As for generations to come meeting their true loves online, maybe dating services will continue in popularity, but people inherently lie when given the opportunity, they just can't seem to fucking stop themselves, so no, I don't see the chatroom, game scene, virtual world becoming the "new" social mecca for hookups! That is the final Wicked Word on this one.

Saturday, March 6, 2010

Like a Sex Aide, Only I spend More Money on Them

There has been discussion of my shoes here. There has been discussion of my shoes elsewhere. There have been questions regarding the effect of my shoes on my sex life. I have shared a poem and a sentimental tale of a gift given to me. I have shared a story written from me to a love of mine. I have even told a story of appearing in court without panties. I mean, hell, I've practically gone to third base with all of you at this point. So, I figure, you might as well meet some of my shoes. Now look, I have a big shoe closet, (okay, three, actually, yeah, it's true, three closets of shoes, not counting the ones stored carefully in one of those nifty little boxes that slides under the bed) so, I will take it easy on you. Not as if I'm just going to drag ya'll down to Munfordville for a big ol' family reunion. No, I will babystep it for you. Just a few, not even playing favorites. Just a random sampling.

I met these beauties last spring, we dated, walked along the streets of downtown Louisville, became friends. It's a casual relationship, but we always enjoy ourselves when we are together. Say hello to the nice people.

These girls are so lovely, they deserve two views. Sadly, looking at these views, it still just doesn't do them justice. Their gorgeous salmon color and seductive, choker collar effect above the ankle just doesn't come across in the photos. Going to have to take my word for it. H-O-T

I will just let these badass mother fucking shoes speak for themselves.

Oh yes, we met and fell in love at Derby '08 and have never looked back. Ours has been a fairytale romance of dinners, wine and dancing. Special times we have shared, you hold a special place in my heart and on my padded shoe rack.

Sassy, right? The color alone is just begging for spring to come back, as am I. Hello??!!

Oh come on, let's face it, these shoes are begging for a good night of "Detective Novel Role Play"

The dame walked in, looking like her sweater and that lipstick were made of the same wine I took a bath in last night, and now my head was swimming in it again...........

"brownchickenbrowncow" *props to Karlis*

So, now you have had a few preliminary introductions. Nothing too formal or fancy. I didn't break out any of the boots. Can you spot the designers in there? There are two pairs. Bonus points if you can spot which pairs of shoes and tell which designers they are.........

Thursday, March 4, 2010

How I Found Myself In A Courtroom with No Panties Part II

Okay......when we left off, I had finished explaining to Idiot from the County Attorneys Office that yes, I would be there, but not at 3:30 and not to just load my mentally and physically unstable grandfather in my car for a "danger ride". Now for, as they say, the rest of the story.....

I arrive at the courthouse and go directly to the county attorney's office. I had placed a couple of calls en route, one of which was to the office of a friend of mine who is the former county attorney here, only to find that he was in court in another county. Snag! But then was able to find that another "free legal counsel" type was at the courthouse. (it pays to have friends, for me, not them :-) )

When I went in I was told that they were already in the hearing but not to be upset because while I was on my way they had worked everything out with a gentleman from Adult Protection Services, he had spoken with someone from the VA Hospital and they would transport my grandfather by ambulance from the jail to the psychiatric unit there, all that needed to be done was for the judge to dismiss the charges in the courtroom.

I was dubious. There were other words exchanged that are unnecessary to this story. I was unkind. Damn me and my temper with the insipid people of this beautiful world of ours, but hey, you know what, my fucking head still hurts, my day to day life isn't always peachy and somebody needs to get bitched at every now and then or else, well, I'm going to stab an innocent.

After this *ahem* necessary exchange, I leave the office and slip into the courtroom. I start to look around. I notice that the only people I know are the attorneys, the police officers, the courtroom workers and the judge. Then, I take a closer look. I am surrounded by miscreants. Like, of the real kind. Not just like, our kind of miscreants, no, these are the people who we could only aspire to dream of understanding the sad depths of darkness inside the minds of, kind of miscreants, I mean, my grandfather shot at people, let's be clear, these are not speeding ticket people I am chilling next to today.

Suddenly, I almost laughed out loud! It occurred to me that I, the self-proclaimed Queen of let's not judge people, was sitting here judging people in this court of law, WEARING NO PANTIES!!!

Then I took another couple of glances around. I would almost swear that I was the only person in the whole room not wearing panties, which just made it that much better. Then, as all of this is going through my head, the county attorney turns and motions for me to walk up to the front of the room to the table in front of the divider. I am now walking up there trying not to shout to the room, "Yeah, I'm sans panties and my grandfathers nuts, fuck you, what about it!!!???" I did control the urge, but Oh. My. God. It would have felt so good! Plus, I know about 6 of the 8 attorneys and all 5 of the police who were on court duty and trust me, they would have LOVED it!!!

So, that is the story of how I found myself in a courtroom with no panties.

P.S. No, they didn't have a fucking thing lined out when my grandfather was transported to the VA hospital, in fact, he had to be transported out of the VA hospital because, hey, guess what?? They don't have proof he is a veteran. Sheesh!!

P.P.S. I wore panties today when I went back up there to tell them they fucked up

How I Found Myself In A Courtroom with No Panties

Oh, you just know it's going to be good, after all, I always post at some insanely late hour(thank you Topomax induced insomnia) and here it is 9:05 on the East Coast. WTH could possibly warrant a post at this time of day from the Wicked One herself. Well, grab a cup of your favorite stuff, cover your keyboard with something water resistant and sit back, because I am about to tell a fucked up tale of misadventure, the judicial system and why, in precision detail, so many Americans find themselves homeless and without medical treatment in these modern times. But, I promise not to do it in some sad somber tone, after all, I wasn't wearing panties. :-)

Okay, so yesterday morning I woke up and the first thing I thought was, 'Hey, it's Wednesday, March 3rd, self declared No Panty Day!!' (did you remember???) So, after I shimmied out of my silkies I went about my morning ritual, you know, med cocktail, mmmm, delishhh, coffee, water, coffee, coffee, twitter, blogs, twitter, email, twitter, blogs, blogs, twitter, ...... phone calls, phone calls, twitter......

FINALLY, I leave my house, errands to be done, appointments to be kept, what have you. Okay, we interrupt this story for those of you who don't know me. Which is all but, say, 2, I mean actually know me.

One of the things that is actually going on in my life is that my beloved 84 year old grandfather has gone off his rocker. As in, skipped the tracks, nuts. In January he might have, as in did, shoot some cars and trucks while they drove by his house. What's an old guy to do, he was pretty sure they were sneaking the Japanese in for an invasion (WWII flashback, not a racist outburst, although, gotta say, would have been funnier if it were just some weird racist outburst). So, after the local police called and suggested one of us go take his gun,(uh, way to serve and protect there guys, we declined) he barricaded himself in his house, state police swat team came and got him and he was hauled off to a facility for sweet old men who have need of psychiatric assistance. EEEEEHHHHHH!!! No. Wrong. That is how it should have gone. Instead, State police took him, he was treated for the wounds he received during the "hostile takeover" by the terrorists, as he described it to the judge, then he was sent to the county jail. Perfect so far, right?

I am now made his Emergency Guardian, because it is clear that he is not of sound mind. I am then told by the judge, find someplace who will treat him for his mental condition. After some scrambling, favor calling, help from friends and string pulling, we find a facility, I attend a hearing with the judge, they want me to sign a bond for his release, I am somewhat reluctant, since this means if he is released from this place I would need to bring him back home with me as I am in charge of him. Did I mention him kicking me across a room because he didn't want me to help him put on his shoes? Oh, or that he won't speak to me now because he has decided I married a Japanese man and am carrying Japanese babies....I love that its always plural, like, a litter of Japanese babies, not sure where this came from, but his mind works in fascinating ways right now.

I also discovered in the midst of all of this, that my grandfather, although he is a Veteran, has never used his Veterans benefits, so I began the process of trying to activate his Veteran's benefits because it was explained to me that if I was able to clear up his legal matters, the VA could be very helpful to me in finding care for him. Uh, can you say nightmarish. As in, hey guys, glad my tits are so fascinating and all, but I was hoping you would take a look at these discharge papers instead!!!! Seriously??!!! WTF?! So, while holding his discharge papers from the military, which have his service number and everything on them, they tell me there is no proof he is a veteran. Ummmmmm, pardon me? What the fuck are those things, then? Did they just hand those out like cotton candy back in the day?

Anyway, judge agrees that this would be bad, so we work it out that he is only to be transported by ambulance or sheriff's deputies and if he becomes uncooperative, he is to be brought back to jail. Not optimal, but I have to put my kid's safety first. Ugh, this is the shit I am dealing with daily while I entertain you people. Yes, kiss my feet right now.

After all of this is settled and ambulance arrives at jail to pick him up, my grandfather creates a huge scene, accuses them all of being terrorists, threatens the ambulance driver and refuses to leave the jail. Epic Fail! Plan 1 aborted.

Following morning, back in judges chambers, (judge is someone I know personally, so I had not had the displeasure of dealing with any of this in open court) he decides that since we went through all of this and it failed, he would simply order my grandfather to undergo mandatory psych eval at state corrections facility. HOLD.ON.A.FUCKING.MINUTE. Yeah, you heard me. They could have done that all along, but instead, had me jumping through hoops the whole time. Signing bonds and placing 400 calls to doctors and facilities and friends in Frankfort. Nice, huh. Anywho. So it is decreed, so it is done.

Last week, I get a call from the social worker from this state facility telling me that he is definitely going to be found incompetent to stand trial. Duh! Big Red Truck, bitch! Okay, so where will that lead us, I ask. No clue, she says. Great, thanks.....I call our County Attorney's office.

Me: so, they have found him incompetent to stand trial, what will the next step be?
Her: Well, it will be up to the judge, really, most likely, since he isn't fit to stand trial, he will be sent to Central State (this is a state run mental facility I had already checked on and spoken to 2 different psychiatrists about, both actually spoke rather highly of it)
Me: Okay, when will that happen?
Her: Well, the trial date is set for March 22
Me: Okay then

Alright, now we are back to me not having any panties on and skipping through my errands yesterday. 2:45 my phone rings.

Me: Hello?
Person: Shawn, this is Idiot from the county attorney's office, they are dropping all of the charges against your grandfather at 3:30 today, so as his guardian you will need to be here to pick him up as soon as that hearing is over.
Inside my head:fuck,shit,damn,bitch,crazy,death,stab,murder,kill,hell,bastard,holy jesus, repeat.
Person:Are you there?
Me: Are you kidding me? What happened to Central State? how do you just drop several counts felony charges involving a firearm, Terroristic threatening, and why am I just now hearing about this?
Person: Well, I know it is short notice but...
Me:(totally cutting her off) Okay, let me just explain this to you, my grandfather, god love him, is not right in the head, I know it, you know it, the judge knows it, the doctors know it and the county attorney knows it. It is NOT safe for me to put him in a car with me and that is to say IF he would even get in a car with me AND I am in the middle of something and I am more than 45 minutes away from there and who calls 45 minutes before and tells somebody something like this? (obvious answer, an idiot)(deep cleansing breaths)
Person:Oh, well, I mean, umm, I can go ask, umm, I'm not really sure, uh..
Me: I need to talk to _____(insert name of the Assistant County Attorney here, who is on top of her damn job, tyvm, if you ever happen upon my little blog, I love you for all of the help and support you have tried so hard to provide through this nightmare!!!)
Person: Well, she's in a hearing and ____(insert name of actual county attorney)is handling all is this herself.
Me: then I want to talk to her.
Person: Well, you really just need to be here.
Me: I will be there when I get there, in the mean time, somebody down there needs to figure out what the hell they are going to do because calling me 45 minutes in advance and then acting like I should have known it was coming is a bit of a stretch.

Holy shit.....this is wayyyy too long for just one post....ok, I will arrive at court with no panties in tonight's post. I promise.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Wicked Wednesday's Q(not to be confused with T) & A

*drumroll please* We will get right to the questions.............

What would be the best workplace perk?
After 5 minutes of thought, yes, it really did take me that long, I have decided. It is definitely a bed in your office. No, it's a day off for every day worked. No, wait, damn, okay, maybe I didn't decide. We will hold this one over again until next week.

What is the meaning of life?
I pondered this, less than 5 minutes, then decided to go where all smart, efficient webcrawlers go when in search of the meaning of a word. So, please see below, the urbandictionary.com definition #3 for Life, by the way, #1 was A sexually transmitted disease??!!!
Life is a test..... do you pass?
At age 4, success is...not peeing in your pants.
At age 12, success is...having friends.
At age 16, success is...having a driver's license.
At age 20, success is...having sex.
At age 35, success is...having money.
At age 50, success is...having money.
At age 60, success is...having sex.
At age 70, success is...having a driver's license.
At age 75, success is...having friends.
At age 90, success is...not peeing in your pants.

Patty Punker Asks:Have you ever used Mine+Yours Lubricant?
Well Patty, I do live in KY. Yes, I have. The first 3 or 4 times, I was like Oh my Holy Hell, where has this stuff been all my life?! Honestly, though, after that, not sure why, but it lost it's appeal. I definitely recommend trying it. That first time, I swear I think I was seriously ready to bring in a camera crew and film a fucking commercial!!

What is your ideal vacation?
One ocean. One man. One hut that sits out just slightly over that ocean, with the cool see through spots in the floor. Some wine. Sun. Sex. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Then, after a week or two, visit the rest of the island, check out local artists, the town bars, all the local restaurants, mingle with islanders and other tourists, then back to the hut. Repeat.

What color is your hair, REALLY?
I would tell you if I REALLY knew. It's darkish. But not really. Kind of in between a dark brown and a medium to dark blonde. Hell, hard to say. Does it really matter as long as it looks and smells good???

Have you ever had sex with only your high heels on?
Which pair? Oh, wait, you weren't being specific. Well, then that would be a resounding hell to the yeah.

Sadly, that is all of the questions. :-(
So, if you enjoyed this little game let me know and then maybe you will play along with us next week. I answer questions regularly Thursday through Saturday, so if you are submitting a question for the Wednesday post, make sure the question is marked WW so I don't answer it by mistake. If you didn't, as always, fuck off, I had fun!! ;-)

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Wicked List of Things I Never Want To See Again.....

It's list time. Stop cheering. Calm down. I don't even know if I am that excited. Wow, I love that all of you get so enthusiastic. I really do. But, I just don't know how a girl is supposed to perform under this type of pressure. Oh, who am I kidding? I'm an exhibitionist at heart. I will be fine.

So, tonight/today's list is of thing's I never want to see again. So many ways one could go with this and you know me and my several different personalities, I am going to go all of them, well, maybe not all, but, yeah, most of them. Let's face it, I am diverse, my blogreading bitches. It's just how I roll. And roll we shall.....

Number 1 Thing I never want to see again: Ad for "Asian Teen Anal Foot Porn" Yes, you read that correctly. During an innocent *bats eyelashes to convince* search of blogs today and some various site engines and such, I clicked on the wrong thing, which then led me to click on another wrong thing, which then made me laugh, and well, okay, the next one I clicked on totally on purpose because it looked, well, funny but interesting, but then, there it was..."Asian Teen Anal Foot Porn" Still being a little weak in the stomach from the head injury, I didn't watch it, but can I just say, I don't ever even want to see that combination of words again. As if the words teen and porn don't bother me enough, let's throw in foot, okay, sorry. Let's go to number 2.

Number 2 Thing I never want to see again: A foot Yes, that's right. Any one's foot, I don't like feet. They gross me out completely. I hate feet in general. It might explain why I love shoes, or maybe it doesn't, I don't know. You know how people love baby's feet and kiss them and put them in their mouths? Yeah, so that makes me want to vomit. I said it. Not that I don't like babies, just that I don't like babies feet either. All feet are disgusting. If the sex is not really good and hot and I notice you just touched me with your foot, I just lost it, thanks, appreciate that, back to square one.

Number 3 Thing I never want to see again: Any movie ever made or that shall be made where a kid dies! Are you fucking kidding me?? At least give me a heads up on this stuff! Like something in the previews that says, "For you dipshits who haven't read the book and think these kids frolicking around look fun and carefree, one of them will DIE tragically" Whatthefuckever!! Bridge to Terabithia. Fuck. You. I despise you and all of the tears I, I mean my daughter, shed watching you. How dare you do that to me, err, my daughter? Moving on.

Number 4 Thing I never want to see again: The Informant starring Matt Damon What. The. Hell. Was. That.

Number 5 Thing I never want to see again: Naked Karaoke Remember this little treat from my trip to Nashville, where they lured us in with promises of naked karaoke but it was really just a sad little low rent strip club? Yeah, never want to see that again. I am all for going to the strip clubs with the group, but I really prefer to keep it on the high dollar end of town.

Number 6 Thing I never want to see again: That obese kid in the I Fuck On The First Date T-shirt It was mildly amusing, at best, the first time, then just sad, then it grew increasingly sadder until now, at which point it has become so depressing that everytime I see it I want to find the hole his mother lives in and beat the living shit out of her for letting her kid wear this shirt. Really??!! Of course the kid is smiling, he doesn't know any better, that shit is funny to a boy that age, he doesn't realize the whole world is laughing AT him, not WITH him. That is sort of what parents are for, to shield them from that sort of stuff. Epic fail!!

Number 7 Thing I never want to see again: People playing Texas Hold'em with their sunglasses upside down. Oh, don't you worry, not that I am anonymous here on my blog, but I have had this discussion face to face with Ed Hardy sporting bad boys at the poker tables too. One of whom felt that explaining the cost of said upside down sunglasses would somehow make him look like less of a douchebag. Not so, I pointed out, you merely look like a douche whose girlfriend wasted a lot of money. Know how to put an Ed Hardy sporting muscle bound Alpha male poker player on tilt and take all of his little chips away from him? *wicked grin* I do!

Number 8 Thing I never want to see again: The mullet as a popular hairstyle quite honestly, my head just isn't shaped quite right for it. Then there is the issue of the whole bang thing, I don't deal well with bangs. Plus, then men and women start looking alike. It's all very confusing to me. Please fashion god's, hear my pleas, don't do this, not again, never again.

Number 9 Thing I never want to see again: 5 hours worth of experimenting with a new art medium turn out to look like something one of my nieces could have done in 20 minutes. What. The. Fuck. Oh, before you other artsy peeps start doing the whole, that's what people said about...... No, trust me, it's shit, pure and utter shit. Laughable, really. So, I laughed, set it aside and will try again another day. But I reallyyyyyyy don't want to see that happen again. Gah!!

Number 10 Thing I never want to see again: A whole winter go by with no vacation from Kentucky I am a little spoiled. I don't like cold. Don't like (read, fucking hate, stabbity stab stab stab) snow, ice, cold rain. I am used to pampering with trips to Mexico and California in early February to get a break from this dreadful place. *deep, sad sigh* But not this year. No, this, our worst winter since, I don't know, my life fucking began (slight exaggeration possibly) I was stuck here. So no, I don't want to see that happen again. Ever.

There is tonight's list. Not sure how it reads. I will spellcheck and reread for coherency, but not changing content because I'm a rebel like that. ;-)

BTW, tomorrow is supposed to be the Q&A from formspring, so here's the deal, if you people, and you can ask anonymously, btw, don't ask me questions, then tomorrow I will post a blank page that says Wicked Wednesday's Question and Answers
Cause I give Good.........Answers. Don't test me people, I will do it. Now get thee to the top left corner and tap my box.

Monday, March 1, 2010

Chasing and Torturing the Elusive V........

No, we aren't talking about virgins here. That's right, it's vagina talk. Men chase them because they need them. Women chase the perfection of them. So, let's dish about it all. Oh goody, you say, hell yeah, me too. Grab a glass of wine and let's give it a go.

So, first off, let's begin with the compunction we women have to beautify that rarest of natural beauties. Oh yes, you know what I'm saying. We shave, wax, depilatize, bedazzle, dye, rejuvenate, the list is endless. The question really is why? When is the last time a guy came back to your place, finally made it to the Magic V-dom and stopped mid-seam, only to announce that you weren't groomed quite to his liking? Then exited stage left. Seriously ladies. Don't get me wrong, I am as Vagina Vain as the next girrrl, but why, I just am not sure. It occurs to me that maybe, just maybe our vaginal vanity has gotten a tad bit out of hand. (oh yeah, I totally went there)

Now clearly, if when the panties come off, the Guns N Roses classic Welcome to the Jungle can be heard in the background, you may lose some Diners Club points, but short of that, most guys are game. Just sayin, it may be time for us to actually listen to our male counterparts on this one. What I hear from my boys over and over again is they simply want it neat enough to get to with ease.

As for rejuvenation, can't really say, haven't done it, haven't considered it, but, uh, really, if that's your thing and you got the money...it's your vagina baby. Dyeing the lips so they appear to have regained their youthful glow??!! Really? When do they lose it? How do they lose it? Who knew? Use some lipstick and keep rolling.
By the way, how fucking funny would that be?? I suggest Chanel Pink Pout!! He will look lovely when he is finished. ;-)

Now for you guys and your pursuit of our magical Vaginas! You love them, yet we torture them because, somehow, we don't believe they are worthy of this adoration. Symbolic of so many things. But, pursue them you do and let us not mince words, it is the vaginas you chase. Oh sure, occasionally you realize the vagina is attached to an intelligent, interesting woman, but more often than not, it's the vagina you see first. Or the breasts that indicate there is a vagina below. Do you consider the shape of foliage surrounding the vagina before you begin the pursuit? Do you case the vagina like a liquor store, attempting to uncover signs of potential glitter and bejeweled magnificence? Is it possible you check the pout of the round thing standing about 8" above those beautiful vagina indicators for a color indication of the vagina? Nah, I didn't think so. You just want the vagina.

On a good night, maybe you want the round thing on top of the vagina indicators to be capable of making passable conversation. Depending on how late it is and how many drinks you've had already. More oft than not, you're just hoping the vagina is unattached and willing to come home with you or willing to allow you to come home with it. Let's face it, you're probably pretty easy. As it stands(oh yes, that was a total fucking pun, and a good one, too bitches) you leave your house most nights with a 40% at best, shot at scoring the vagina, so rejuvenated or not, your jumping at it, given the chance.

So, ladies and gentlemen, I suggest we all relax about the Beautiful Vagina, stop chasing and torturing, let the Vagina rest for a day or two. Let her breathe. (I know this is going to kill Elly) That is why I am declaring March 3rd Wicked No Panty Day!! Enjoy!!

BTW, don't forget to formspringme a question in time for the Wednesday Q&A post ;-)