Monthly Archives: October 2011

Biker Chic


Today I shall amuse you with the story of how I was a faux biker chic. For 4 whole weeks.

I have long found a fascinating with bikers and motorcycles, (Sons of Anarchy is pretty much my favorite show) although I prefer the looks of very fast street bikes to anything that resembles a Harley. My ex-husband was very influential in shaping my inclination to Yamaha streetbikes by  making frequent visits to every Yamaha dealer within a 100 mile radius. He and his brother also switched ownership back and forth of a Yamaha TDM,  a rarer model of streetbike that was much to tall for me to sit on, that in no way deterred me from attempting to start it up when I was inebriated, resulting in a cartoonish-like incident where I gunned the throttle and the bike when skating off into the garage wall. (oops)

During one of the occassions when said TDM was under my ex’s ownership, he thought it would be dandy to have a girlfriend who could ride her own bike, so I came home from work to find a Kawasaki Ninja 250 waiting for me. He explained that he was jut at the dealer and saw this little bike and had just gotten paid from a concrete job, so he had mega-moolah in his pocket, so he paid cash for it. (Yet he forgot to pay the electric bill) I ignored the fact that such an impulse buy was completely doltish, because I was distracted by images running through my head of me on my new crotch rocket, scooting down the open road at 100 mph with the wind in my hair and the cops at my back. I wanted to get started learning how to ride immediately.

Now, I had ridden BEHIND my ex on his bike, but I had never in my life sat on a moving motorbike alone. Needless to say, the first few attempts were… interesting. Luckily, we were living in the middle of Bum-Fuck Egypt at the time, so there were many empty roads at our disposal. My ex had a friend, Fred, who accompanied us on my learning sessions, and after the third time I stuck my leg out to stop my new bike, he stated, “I can’t watch. She’s going to die.” while shaking his head and walking away. I felt affronted at such a statement. Of course I was going to stick my leg out to stop, that’s habit when you stop a pedal bike!

Let’s just say that although I got down the shifting, I never fully got the balancing act down. Paired with the fact that my legs were slightly too short to reach the ground while stopped on my bike, it is understandable why my ex decided to sell my Ninja while I was at work only a few short weeks after he bought it for me. His visions must have been slightly different than mine- instead of the police giving chase to me  with the wind in my hair, he saw them calling ambulances and firetrucks when I stuck my leg out to stop and crashed into a passel of school children.

P.S. I STILL want to go to Strugis. Even if I have to walk to get there.

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Lucky


How lucky I am that at my new job I have a Shift Manager who has kids that aren’t hers, swears like a trucker, likes the band Jackyl, and won’t take no shit. She’s like an un-Sparkley version of me! This is gonna be awesome!

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Filed under Humor, Life, Uncategorized, Work

A Versatile Blogger


*tearing up and fanning myself* I would like to take this opportunity to thank Kana and her Notebook for nominating me for the Versatile Blogger award. Without this award, I would just be another individual spouting tom-bloggery in a sea of internet. I am informed that I must do the following to accept my award:

1. Thank my nominator (Kana) and link to her blog.

2.Bestow this award upon 15 other unsuspecting bloggers whose sites have entertained me daily, and let them know I have done so.

3.List 7 random things about myself.

Since I have thanked Kana and her awesomely-inked self, here is my list of blogger Lovelys. (I am not sure if I can list people who have already received the award from others, so I will just do what I think is best.):

A True Unfolding: a woman after my own heart, who loves Frida Kahlo and sex and talking dirty.

Freshest15: a beautiful girl with a beautiful heart who writes about her dreams and will get them all. She is a source of inspiration to me, even though I’m twice her age.

Trask Avenue: a man who takes beautiful pictures and writes beauteous and funny things who doesn’t want me to move to New Jersey unless I bring cake.

theworldaccordingtoscarp: a hilarious woman whom I shall share beer and pizza with someday.

Very Normal: a lovely Englishwoman who has excellent taste in shoes who will ALSO achieve her dreams

The Camel Life: a woman who has a strange obsessions with Kim Kardashian which I don’t understand, who is better looking that Kim and is an excellent writer

That Girl Behind The Book: my ex-co-worker who was fired the same day as I was from our bookstore; the beautiful girl who inspired me to start the blog that entertains you all so.

Der Erzahler: that person who posts lovely erotic pictures for me to admire every day.

H.E. Ellis: the woman I  am to marry if my Rockstar doesn’t marry me. I think we shall be very happy together in our prom dresses. 😉

Tinkerbelle: another lovely Englishwoman who believes Laughter is catching.

BrainRants: an awesome ranter who has made me famous by association; I’m a Rockstar in his world. 🙂

FromPage2Screen: one of my first followers who made sure to let me know my babbling was worth his time.

The Tale of my Heart: a blogger that posts beautiful and inspiring things.

Savor the Folly: my new bloggy friend who appreciates my blogs, even the ones about poop.

Sandy Like a Beach: a woman with awesome sparkle.

Aright, now the hard part is done. Trying to figure out how to link everything is going to be a pain in the ass. Now the part you’ve all been waiting for.

7 things about me:

1. Groups of children do to me what the movie JAWS would do to a 6 year old- terrify and provoke nightmares.

2. I am anti-social, despite my efforts to be glittering and amusing.

3. I received the basics of my sexual education from my girlfriend who was 3 years older than me when I was 7.

4. I will never try any drug, not even once, because I know that I would like them too much. Heroin would be my drug of choice if I were to ever change my mind.

5. When I was 8, I slipped on the stairs and messed up the growing of my big toenail. I did it again when I was 10, and once more when I was 14. I bet you’ve never heard of a toenail having a scar, but my did until a few years ago.

6. When I was younger, I wanted to be in beauty pagents like my older cousin, but my parents wouldn’t let me. I realize now that was because I was a chubby kid with huge plastic glasses and not perfect teeth.

7. My mind is far more twisted and fucked up than anyone could ever possibly imagine.

Ok, that’s all for now. If you wish to know more about me, you may simply ask, as I do not try to redirect any questions that are posed to me. All you bloggy people I nominated, I’m sorry I gave you more work to do, as it is not easy to nominate your faves. XOXO

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The Story of A Mormon Boy


My post today is about a Mormon boy I worked with once upon a time.

Once upon a time, when Sparklebumps worked at a department store that was overrun with Mormon employees. She became friends with one of the Mormon boys who was on the edge of 20, and they chattered endlessly about the book ideas they had and how best to write said books.

For those of you who don’t know much about Mormon customs, when a Mormon boy graduates from high school, he is then expected to go on a mission to a different part of the world for 2 years. Some choose not to go, and some are not allowed to go when they confess their naughty sex sins to their leader. This boy Sparklebumps knew was to remain in the United States for his mission, due to a health issue.

Now, Sparklebumps has a knack for getting people to talk about very personal stuff. Perhaps it is her sparkling nature, or the fact that no subject is taboo, who knows. Anyhoo, one day the Mormon told Sparkle that he and his girlfriend did IT and how he liked to post pictures of her naked on amature porn websites. He requested that she check them out and get back to him with her honest opinion.

Now Bumps is all about the porn, and was intrigued. What kind of girl dates a Mormon who is taught sex before marriage is bad, yet tempts him enough to both somewhat deny his beliefs and then brag about it? So I looked up the site he gave me.

I was sorely disappointed. Not to say the girl wasn’t hot. In fact, her very perky boobies were surprisingly large for such a young and skinny girly. (Don’t worry, she is legal). The issue I had was in her face. Have any of you heard the term “Butterface”? Because she, unfortuneately, had one.

Butterface: a girl that has a nice body butt boobs and such but her face is very revolting.

Mormon Boy was boisterously curious to see what I had to say about his girlfriend. Sadly, he asked for an honest opinion and since angels cannot lie, I gave it to him. I let him know that his girlfriend had a butterface (as he was obviously unaware of the fact) and told him that I was so distracted by her frontispiece that I was unable to enjoy whatever funness was going on down below. I also let him know that the pictures that screamed, “Look at my pussy!” were not of the classy sort that I prefer. He was disappointed with my review, and assured me he would take some classier photos. I’m not exactly sure why my opinion mattered so, but when I told him I was not especially fond of blondes in the first place, he had her dye her hair.

A few weeks later, Mormon Boy let me know there were new photos to view, as well as a video. With much unease, I made my way to my computer yet again, prepared to have my eyes assaulted by Butterface once more. I was pleased to see that her pictures now whispered, “Would you like to take a look at my pussy?” instead of yelling “Look at my beaver, Bitches!” and the brown hair was a vast improvement. I however, was still disturbed by her face, and the 13 minute video he had me watch was excruciating.

Now, I have spent my fare share of time watching porn (for educational purposes only, of course) and I am appalled at the many women who are very horrific actors in this genre. Mormon Girlfriend was one of them. I have heard that speaking during sex, saying, “Oh, yeah, right there, ooh, you’re SO big, mmmmm, I’m gonna come” is a turn on for guys, but there is a way to make it believable, and then there is the crap way where it just seems like you are bored and want it to be over.

The gist of the video was 13 minutes of masturbation with various toys. I would say that I most adept at getting off when I am servicing myself, so if I were to make a similiar video, there would be no need to fake it. This girl SO obviously was faking it. That and the fact that 13 minutes of jamming toys up your cooch can get tiring to watch made me want to make my own video as a how-to guide.

The Mormon asked me to share around his girlfriend, so I placated him by mentioning her site to several of my Guy Aquaintances. They all said the same thing- “I can find way hotter chics on the internet.” My Rockstar agreed that her face was quite unfortunate-looking.

Anyhoo, the Mormon Boy ended up getting sent on his mission, and then proceeded to get sent home when the guilt of his indiscretions overwhelmed him and he confessed to his elders. He came back home and let me know that he was trying desperately to amend his ways, though at the same time he let me know there were new pics up of his girl.

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Thought #14


Dammit! Why is it that I have to take a poo as soon as I paint my fingernails?! How am I supposed to pull my pants down without messing them up?

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A Letter From a Past Life


One of the habits that I have that has been both a blessing and a curse is that I tend to hoard stuff. I have kept the hoarding mainly designated to books, because I do not believe that will place me on that awful  Hoarders show. The only other things that I excessively save are notes and letters I’ve received from the past. I was digging through a box today when I came across a letter my ex-hubby wrote right after I left him. Here you go:

To my love the Best wife ever

I Have Really Been Doing some hard Thinking and Besides stresses of my Back a Dumb Bad and A poor economy and way to many Bills I have come to realize that my actions are to Blame.

I Have Been A very poor Husband and my Priorities are really screwed up.

I Totally Have not Been spending enough close time with you or making you feel special and I don’t kiss you enough and It’s not because I Don’t love you or like to

I have took things for granit though things were better than they were and not attending to your needs when I should Have Been and have not took you to nice places enogh.

also I Have not Been doing my Part of HouseHold chores like I should Have Been, you are the hardest working wife ever and should not Have to come Home to A mess after such A long day. I have Been very poor for noticing these things Becaus I can be kind of Dumb sometimes

I know you can’t Pay all the Bills and I really need to step it up and not Be lazy with work.

I’v made you unHappie for A long time now and not even Relized it

I Have A lot to change and will now try to change

I Know you want Babies and I Due to, I Hope it Has nothing to do with you wanting to leave

I also understand why you want to go and I don’t blame you, this would be a lot to Deal with for A long time

We Have Been together for A long time and I know we have A lot of Good memeries and Happines in the past

I Really love you more than anything in the world and want you to be Happie

I really couldn’t imagin life without you and fear facing it I know I Have A lot of issues But please Before we call it quits for Good and move on, I ask you as your loving Husband that we give it some time and take some merital counciling together so I can make you Happy again, I do believe you want to Be married to me and I want to make you Happy

I know I can change things to make you Happy if you let me pleas don’t give up on our marrage just yet

your loving husband

Yeah, I kind of felt like a Bitch after that one.

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I’ve Had A Dream


In typical Sparklebumps fashion, I completely forgot to mention a little dream I had last week. Of course, the distraction from getting fired may have had something to do with it.

Let me fill you in on a bit of my dream history.

When I was 4 and 5, I had a recurring dream that freaked the piss out of me for some unknown reason.

I would dream I would hear music coming from the basement of my house (which was a house we didn’t live in) and I would go down to investigate. On some occasions, in my dream, my mom would come down the stairs smoking a cigarette and carry me back up to bed. Other times, in my dream, I would follow the music down a long hallway that had a flickering light at the end of it. I never did get to the end of the hallway.

When I was perhaps 7, I dreamed that my mom and I were running away from a man who had just escaped prison, and we hid in an abandoned mechanic shop that was in the middle of a field. The man found us and poked my mom’s eye out with a board.  When I awoke, I rushed to my mother and confirmed that both her eyeballs were in their sockets.

I have had good dreams, as well, but they seem much more un-interesting, so I will not share them at this time.

When I worked at a day-program for mentally handi-capped people, I had a dream that I was pregnant with triplets, which I delivered amidst the probing eyes of the clients I worked with. The building we were in then started on fire (because labor always brings on a fire) and I rushed to the bathroom with my babies. The bathroom transported me to a swamp that was infested with hungry crocodiles, which tried unsuccessfully to eat my new babies. I screamed at the crocs,”Get away from my babies, you fuckers!”

Another baby dream I had while I was married that was quite entertaining: I dreamed I went to a Baptist college that many of my friends have gone to, and I got kicked out because I had diahrrea of the mouth and went running up and down the halls cursing. I then found myself in the middle of a series of cornfields, being hunted down by military helicopters intent on blowing me into tiny pieces for this infraction. I escaped into a falling down farmhouse that seemed secure, and proceeded to have a baby boy (even though I don’t remember being pregnant) and as I sat rocking my new babe, he looked up at me and said, “Don’t worry, mommy, I won’t grow up to be a Republican.” This did NOT amuse my then-husband, as he and his entire family WERE Republican, and essentially treated  Election Day as a national holiday.

So, like what happens to many other people, the details of the dream I had last week faded from my mind upon awaking, however, I remember the gist of it.

I was having dinner at a nice restaurant with Country music stars Jason Aldean (whom I don’t especially find attractive), Eric Church (whom I also do not find attractive, but sings my favorite song at the moment Drink in my Hand), Luke Bryan (who I believe to be the the most legitimate hick of all time- HELLO! he actually says WARSH instead of WASH in a song), and another current male country singer who was devoid of a face. (which seems to happen in dreams alot) I was just kickin’ back with the boys, confabulating about hot chics and other important Man Topics, when the waitress brought our food. The following occurrence that happened in my dream is eerily accurate to real life: each of the guys asked if they could have a french fry from my plate, and I proceeded to become hysterical at the thought that they would DARE suggest such a thing. I then swooped down on them all and thieved all of their dinners from them.

What can I say- who can be bothered with famous men when there are french fries to be had?

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The Ten Commandments: A Translation


While sitting in church today, I decided to compose a little sermon. Having spent a great deal of time in church in my life, I am well aware of the dangers of a boring sermon. So here is an attempt to translate the ten commandments in a completely non-dull way that is easy to understand:

1. Thou shalt have no other gods before Me.

Obviously this is God talking here. Basically He means, quit idolizing Kim Kardashian, because she is not going to kick your ass if you like God more than her.

2. Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image.

Statues of Kim Kardashian are not permitted either.

3.Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain.

God doesn’t appreciate it when you spout pointless phrases such as “Jesus fuckin’ Christ” and “God damn you.” If God wants to damn someone, He can do it without you telling Him to. He wishes you to only speak His name in honoring ways, such as “Hey God, what’s up?” and “You are one cool dude, Lord.”

4. Remember the Sabbath Day to keep it holy.

Take a day off every week. But don’t be a lazy slob the rest of the week.

5. Honor thy Father and thy Mother.

Even though you may not agree with your dad when he’s giving a pounding to you, God expects you to smile and nod. However, I don’t really think a “thank you” is necessary.

6. Thou shalt not kill.

Blowing people up and chopping their heads off is out.

7. Thou shalt not commit adultery.

I looked up the definition of adultery just to make sure I didn’t give you falsified information.

Adultery: .noun, plural -ter·ies.

Def. voluntary sexual intercourse between a married person and someone other than his or her lawful spouse.
No fucking around with a married person- unless you are the spouse of said married person.
There are many people who believe having sex without marriage is adultery. To those people I say, “Na-na-na-na-NA-na.”
8.Thou shalt not steal.
If you want something that’s not yours, you must buy or trade for it. No freebies unless noted.
9Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor.
This is usually translated as “Lying is not allowed.” What that means is- God is listening when you tell your girlfriend she’s the only one you look at and imagine naked; also, remain silent when she asks, “Does this make me look fat?”
10. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s house.
If you are rich, this probably won’t be a problem for you, as you will have your own nice abode, but basically, don’t be jealous when your friends have it better than you.
 Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife, nor his manservant, nor his maidservant, nor his ox, nor his ass, nor anything that is thy neighbor’s.
This was nice of God to include all sexual preferences in this one. He means, it’s best not to lust after your aquaintance’s old lady, even if she looks like Jessica Alba; or for that matter, don’t lust after his servants or his livestock either. Keep you pants on and get your own shit.
Disclosure: All commandments have been taken from the King James Version of the Holy Bible. All translations have been taken from Sparklebumps’ brain, and therefore have not been meant to offend any person or persons that read them. The language used in this post was to help lay-people understand what is expected of them. Though she believes she has a friend in Jesus, she in no way is denouncing any beliefs that her reader’s may have that differ from hers. God expects us to love everybody and to leave the judgeing business up to him. So there.

 

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Diary of a Pizza Slut


Dear, Diary,

Last night was my first night of closing at my new place of business, the pizza joint. Depite the fact that it’s been almost two years since I was last a waitress, I managed to refrain from dumping a tray-ful of pop on a table of customers, and didn’t screw up any orders. No, it is NOT hard to bring people food and refill their beverages, so it still astonishes me when I go out to eat and get horrid service. Really?! I realize that discussing with your co-workers the latest haircut Justin Beaver is sporting is pertinent knowledge to obtain, but when I have sucked down 2 refills of Diet Coke and need another to wash down the leftover dinners of my Beloveds, you best get your little college-student petutie at my service if you want a tip!

Anyhoo, there were a few things last night that are common restauraunt knowledge that I had forgotten:

The main one being that I am completely accident- prone.

While folding pizza boxes, I managed to slice my hand open with cardboard. I would have much preferred being stabbed in the eyeball with a dirty fork which would then become infected so that my brains seep out my eye socket. The cut happens to be on my hand right where the children lines are, so if I happen to go to a palm reader this week, I will not even be able to get an accurate reading.

Secondly, I was reminded that things fresh out of the oven tend to be a tad warm. This became glaringly apparent when my boss Frenchy dropped a pile of pizza pan thingys, and I stooped to pick them up. With every fiber of my being, I restrained myself from shrieking, “THOSE ARE FUCKIN’ HOT!!!!!” I will not be maing any lewd hand gestures at women this week, as my index and middle fingers on my left hand will be stiff from the scar tissue that will be forming.

The third and final thing I was reminded of was that men cannot aim their little pee-pees directly into a urinal. Instead they tend to point them about three inches short of the desired spot (directly at the floor) as evidenced by the puddle of piss I got to mop up.

One new thing I learned was that answering the phone was just as scary as I anticipated.

There is supplied a little prompt sheet to assist you in answering the phones, saying such things as:

Thank you for calling ________

My name is ________

Would you like to hear our specials?

It, however, tells you nothing about what you should say when the archaic stone-age computer won’t let you type in the order, or what to say when the stoner you’re talking to orders something that’s not on the menu. It was longest phone conversation of my life that only lasted a minute.

On the other hand, Diary, I was thrilled to make enough in tips to fill the 100 gallon gas tank on my POS car. XOXO

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Thought #12


Why must it be so hard to write fiction? I don’t exactly relish sitting here figuring out how to write a sentence perfectly for an hour straight, when I just want to get on with the story; but it would be a suck-ass book if I left out all the details….

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