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!!

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!

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:

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!!

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.

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

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.

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!!