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.

Can You Draw Me A Picture, Please??

I have no idea where the hell tonight's post is going to take us. Just strap yourself in and come along for the ride. I decided to have this damn blog, right? I decided I would write something every fucking day? (why the fuck did I do that? Chalk it up to newbie status, idiotic moment, Shawn's cocky syndrome, whatthefuckever) But tonight was the first night that I truly had no clue what the hell I wanted to write about. Just Reece fucking Witherspoon Clueless here. So, I say to the three guys sitting at the table, write the first two words that come to your mind on this piece of paper. No matter what they are, just write them.

After they were finished, I had six words and one conclusion. Guys are (sorry for the generalization one intelligent man who reads my blog) dumb. Like, seriously, great to look at, handy to have around when you need something heavy moved or an itch scratched, but really, really not capable of performing on demand. I had just told them I had no subject matter for tonight's post. What should have been at the forefront of their tiny little shrunken brains? Blog topic. The following are the Hot Topic words I am now turning into tonight's post. Buckle up, I am about to go man bashing!!!

Word One: Fuck. Wow. Blow me over with a fucking feather. Sadly, this little nugget of deliciousness came from the one sad sack who does read this fucking thing I call my passion and life's work (okay, yeah, I'm exaggerating, but, it's my world in here, freedom of expression, yada, yada). Fuck, that's what you give me. Hello? I use that in every other fucking sentence without being prompted. I have to monitor the number of fucks I use in comments on other people's blogs. Wow again!! Thanks!!

Word two: No. Ok, fuck you. Now you are just being obstinate. I have a word for you, too. ASSHAT! This word just pisses me off. I hate this word. It's so negative. It is the embodiment of negativity. I defy you to make it sound positive. Oh wait, " There is no sign of STDs in your genital area." Ok, I just defeated myself. I am even better than me. Fuck no. How did I manage to outdo myself? Okay, guess I will let him stay here, he clearly isn't as dumb as I thought. :)

Word three: Shenanigans. Okay, while I love this word, (it makes me envision little drunk Irishmen running around knocking things over) HOW THE FUCK DOES IT FIT INTO A POST?? Especially since you have a piece of paper where you already see the words Fuck and No clearly listed above it. Shady bastards. Shady Bastard's Shenanigans. Now we are getting somewhere. It's like a band. Think Chumbawamba



Word Four: Andrew. Well, why the hell not. For the record, no, that is not the name of the guy who wrote it down. Which makes me think I need to sit down and let him know that if he needs to tell his friends and family something, I fully support him, no matter what. It's his life to live and he shouldn't try to conform to small town ideals if it means he is uncomfortable and feels like he isn't being true to himself. He shouldn't have to hide himself behind a parade of crazy ass girlfriends when clearly, what is really at the front of his mind, is a boy named Andrew. There you useless fuck! I hope your girlfriend's crazy ass reads this and spends the entire weekend that your precious Saints are playing in the Super Bowl badgering you about why you said Andrew instead of her name.

Word Five: Ouch. Ouch? Oh, you are going to think ouch. I am going to beat the fuck out of you useless fucks. I write everyday. It makes sense that I would have a hard time stringing together 100's of words day after day. You have no fucking excuse. Two words that I can work with. All I ask. Is this an, "Ouch, trying to think of two word makes my empty fucking head hurt."? Ouch! Ouch, mom is going to beat my ass for inviting five girls to meet me and the other boys at the bowling alley and just now 'remembering' to tell her about it tonight. Oh yeah, I guess ouch does make sense from this one. My bad. Moving on.

Word Six: Cold. Cold! Fucking stellar. Cold!! It's Cold, I hate cold. I love my son. Ouch made sense, cold I hate and I love writing about things I hate. We are in the midst of another blue ball weather job as we speak. You know, where mother nature gets us all worked up, sucks us in, blows through, then moves on leaving us straight up and stuck with nowhere to go but a freezing shower and touching ourselves.(I realize this is a male reference, however, there is no appropriate female response, I guess I could say hard nippled, but it is merely not harsh enough to describe the pain and hatred here) Bitch.

So, there it is, tonight's post. For all of our sakes, i sure as fuck hope N9nuh, the dog I am taking care of, does something really fucking interesting tomorrow, otherwise, I may have to wander the neighborhood (egads, that could get ugly) or rifle through my memory to get something good for you. Believe me, my sordid past could provide us with enough posts to keep us busy for the rest of the year.

Good times.....for the most part.
Bye for now.

Guest Post From My Friend The Dick

First, I would like to congratulate Shawn for being my lucky winner.



Suck it up Shawn… 15 minutes and all.



Next, I would like to tell Shawn to fuck off for picking the topic of the blog. What am I a 4th grader?



Don’t answer that.



Also…I would have written a guest blog if you would have asked. Muahahahahahahaha.



Evil laughing aside, I really didn’t know how to approach this topic.







I thought about it long ( 5 minutes tops) and hard (ha, he said hard) before starting this blog.

As you can tell, the 200 words may be filled with ranting. Hey, it’s my style and you can suck it.



So, I decided to follow the spirit of the title and tell Shawn what I really think. I will be quite honest and admit that I haven’t read all of Shawn’s blogs. I will… I just haven’t yet. However, I have a pretty good feeling about her. When I read her blog I hear a sassy voice (yeah I know… I always hear voices) and her stabbitude makes me laugh.



Also, she talks pretty candidly about sex.



If wicked girls knew….



That some guys like wicked girls. I like that my gf doesn’t take my shit. It is about time somebody won’t. One of my readers (and real life friend (gasp (shock (oh no, not this again (muahahahah (ahem)))))) thought that Jaime from A Cheeto Named Larry was my girlfriend (ah hell no). My real gf laughed and said, “Yeah, she wouldn’t take your shit either.”



That guys don’t always want to have sex. Just almost always.



Leaving your initials in your pubes is just wrong. Seriously, you need help.



And, to end this whole charade, speaking your mind is a valuable trait. However, I have absolutely no filter most times. I have found a freedom in this… and sometimes trouble. Also, this applies to actions as well. But… looking before you leap is lame.



There you are folks, my first ever forced guest blog. Your welcome.

Peace.


NOTE from Wicked Shawn: My thanks to you for the guest blog. To my readers who aren't familiar with our guest, www.iamadick.squarespace.com , go check him out. Very funny stuff, funny in an angry, stabalicious kind of way.
Of course I have a few notes. Yes, you are like a fourth grader, just with a much bigger attitude. Were you not aware of this? Really??
Ask? Umm, hi, I'm Shawn, clearly you are not familiar with me, I like a challenge. Asking is for sissies and whiners. "Will you please do this for me?" Fuck that, I will take people down to get what I want, that's how we Wicked Girls roll. ;)
Of course you don't like sex ALL the time, when would you eat????
Love that you like your gf not putting up with your shit, makes me almost take back fourth grader comment.
Again, thank you.