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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

2) How does this effect me?

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

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

The Little Things

It must be What The Fuck Tuesday!! As in What the Fuck were you thinking, asshat who called me and hung up.....twice in a row. I have caller id dipnuts!!! Then ask who I am when I call you back!! I would be the very same person you just hung up on twice dickweed. It went sort of like this.....click.

Why are you trying to run over me with your "I am too lazy to walk around Sam's Club so I'm in the cart on wheels" woman? Are you angry that I am not only able to navigate the whole warehouse by foot, but in heels? Without running out of breath even. Hell, dare me and give me a second to grab my Dooney, I will run circles around you and the wheels of slow death in my heels all over this bitch ass warehouse. But while I am trying to navigate this monolith with this cart of doom, stop backing into me, got it Sam's whore. Stop lustily staring at your 45 lb tub of cheesy poofs long enough to glance backward. Fuck!!!!!!!!!!!! If I have to rapidly pull this cart back out of your way one more time, it's going to end badly, not for me, no, I will be laughing my fucking ass off, probably sitting in the aisle, legs splayed out around me, while you cry out that you have whiplash. Essentially, you back that fucking thing up toward me one more time and I am ramming my cart full on into your ass, it will be a 100lb plastic package of cookie cleanup on aisle 74, cause your shit is going to go flying. Get it, got it, good!!!!

Skinny Cinnamon Dolce Latte, no whip. Grande please. No, no extra shot, thank you though. Ok, here you go. Wonderful, enjoy the nice weather. That was my side. Seems pleasant, normal exchange. Now, for his side.........it went, verbatim, like this:
Yeah? Extra shot.. $4.83 So, after I picked up my coffee, I stopped as he moved from one foot to the other, apparently this is what he makes the majority of his money for, flashed a big grin and said, "Hey, you know the difference in the real Starbucks and the ones like these, here inside the Barnes and Nobles?". "Huh?" was his dazzling response. " Your lame ass would have never gotten hired at a real Starbucks, they expect actual customer service." Now, one would expect, at least I would, to be called a bitch, whore, ass, something, after this comment, what does our Mr. CS comeback with........." You have no idea how bad this job sucks." I just shook my head and laughed as I left. Fucking pathetic, I would knock the hell out of my son if he ever acted like that about his job. Seriously, spoiled ass fucking brats. Slinging fucking coffee, must be really tough out there in the cruel world.

High school girls should have high heels embedded in their skulls, just as a warning to others. So, my daughter not in high school yet, but she is an excellent swimmer and has been accepted on the local high school swim team. Tonight we were at a swim meet. She swam a relay with 3 of the high school girls. Even though she set a personal record and swam an outstanding lap, she was swimming against a state finalist who is a senior and has competed nationally, I adore my daughter, but she isn't that good(what? I'm a parent, but I'm not fucking stupid). After the relay, my daughter walked over to talk to me and the love of my life, while we were talking I overhear 3 of the high school girls standing barely 3 feet away from my daughter talking shit about her, then, to make it worse, the one who had her back to my daughter, realizes she is standing there, says, hey, she's standing right there, only to have one of these other little bitches say, yeah, I know, I don't care. (okay, WARNING, I am about to talk about teenage girls in unbelievably foul and cruel terms because my mom instinct kicked into Kill Bill mode, so, if you will potentially get offended, skip to next paragraph) OHHHHH, WAIT!!! Important fact missing!!!! Their mothers were sitting right the fuck in front of me, heard every damn bit of this and did nothing to stop this! Who is the bigger fuckstick, whorebag, bitch in this case, I find myself wondering. These hateful little bitches who find it so simple to stand around in their little group and essentially pick on the girl is 3 years younger than them, or the cunt mothers who sit there, see and hear it happening and do nothing to stop it. Not one to watch my daughter take any chance of my daughter getting hurt, physically or emotionally, I firmly suggested it was time she went back to sit with her friends on the team. Then I went on a rant to love of my life, who had been heretofore oblivious to the "girl drama" *shock and awe* I very loudly announced that he needed to get me away from there because I had heard the girls and I was aware that the parents had sat by and done nothing to stop it. Did I mention that the schools principle was sitting directly to my left? LMAO Mortified, fake ass parents whose kids I just called out for picking on the younger girl. Fuckall, I hate that for you bitches, guess you should have reigned those little whores in before I had to call you out!!! After I finished, sans curse words, you're welcome Mr. Adams, I do have a great deal of respect for you, love of my life kindly removed me and my snakeskin heels from that seating area. They are fairly new and a really pretty shade of shimmery tan, blood would have surely ruined them.

After my daughter got home, she and I talked about it briefly, she had heard them. She told me that it is a pretty regular thing. They are the swim team's mean girls. I offered to let her wear my shoes to practice Thursday. She laughed when I told her what I had done, she said they really don't bother her at all but she took great pleasure in the fact that her kickass mom had called out the frumpy moms. Then, she said something that made What the Fuck Tuesday all feel ok. She told me that what a bunch of losers in high school said about her really didn't matter, because we had given her a chance to know who she was and she really likes herself. Look out world, if she is any indication, the next generation of wicked girls are going to make you shake in your fucking boots!