There is something I may not have told you all. My Rockstar is from South Dakota.
What kind of Rockstar is from South Dakota, you ask? Well, mine, so shut up about it.
Although every time we end up going back to visit his home, I start thinking he’s a little bit more country than he is rock-n-roll.
For example, we spent a good 4 hours yesterday cruising around the cow paths near Millbank looking for his dad’s homestead. The fact that it took a copse of trees to identify is is indeed excessively hick. Oh, well.
We were delivering my Rockstar’s Daughter to her grandparents this past weekend, and we all spent the weekend at a state park that was actually a former residence of my Rockstar as a child. We were lucky enough to enjoy perfect weather all weekend, and there were a few things I learned this weekend that I may never have known if we hadn’t had our mini vacation.
1. Not all of South Dakota is a barren wasteland of disgusting flat earth.
The first trip we took together to South Dakota was disheartening, to say the least, becaust it was Thanksgiving weekend, and my Rockstar’s attempts to show me around were hampered by the fact that there was snow on the ground, and the weather was bleak, so when we took ride out in the country, all you could see for miles was nothing at all. I informed my Rockstar at that time that there would be no moving to SD for me. I have since possibly changed my mind.
2. Permanent port-a-potties smell worse the more that people use them.
I have never seen a stationary port-a-potty in the first place, and was pleased to find that when we arrived at our campground, ours was mostly clean and free of Odour-de-poop. Sadly, as the weekend went on, and we had to share our toilet with other campers, the smell became utterly unbearable, and I found myself thinking that pooping in the trees and using poison oak to wipe would be preferable to entering our increasingly-full porti-pooper.
3. I can administer a successful blowjob between Big Stone City and Milbank.
One of the things my Rockstar and I have on and off discussed since almost the beginning of our relationship is the idea of blowjobs while driving. For some reason, he has always been against it, (probably since his legs twitch when he comes, and he does not wish to procure any speeding tickets.) However, when we were driving around Midwest, USA yesterday, the Horny Monster possessed him, and he hinted at a blow job. Since I aim to please, (and blowjobs are my favorite) he didn’t have to ask twice. He was, though, hesitant because we were soon to be driving through a town. I poo-pood his worry and proceeded to give him an explosive Man Orgasm BEFORE we got to town, without spilling a drop. I think he will not again question my blow-job giving abilities.
4. A sweatshirt is beneficial to preventing lobster-itis.
You all may have noticed from the silly picture of myself that I bear pale vampire-like skin. This is not great for sitting in a boat on summer days. In fact, my shoulders are covered in numerous freckles due to past horrific sunburns. But I found out that when covered in a hoody sweatshirt, one does not suffer from the nasty effects of UV rays. What was surprising is the fact that normally I am pouring sweat when out in the sun, yet I was comfortably cool sitting in the blazing sun while donning my winter-ready hoody. I do, however, have a sunburnt nose.
5. My Rockstar is hilarious when faced with monster garter snakes.
We stopped by the cemetary on the way home to try to find my Rockstar’s uncle, and as we were ambling along through the many headstones, by Rockstar jumped about 4 feet in the air and cried, “Holy shit, it’s huge!” After realizing he was not, in fact, talking about his boner, (even though I’ve had almost that exact reaction from it) I noticed a rather large garter snake sunning himself next to old man Worthington’s grave. I squealed in delight and started to chase it, while my Rockstar booked it across the cemetary to get as far away from Snakey as he possibly could, shivering in disgust the whole time. His reaction put me in a fit of uncontrollable giggles that didn’t cease for a good five minutes.
6. I now understand the terms “dicky-do” and “booby- do”.
Have you ever noticed those men who sport excessive beer bellys that make them look like Santy Clause? Did you know the actual term for that is a dicky-do belly? Because their belly sticks out further than their dicky do. HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA! My Rockstar and I were trying to figure out the female term for this while we were sitting on the beach watching the whales. (And I don’t mean the ones in the water.) Booby-do oughtta do it, don’t you think?
7. E.L. James is the next Stephanie Meyer.
What does a bookwhore do while stranded in a boat? Read.
Oh, I fished a little, but I was trying to make my way through Fifty Shades of Gray, and I grew increasingly anger that once again, a book is getting far, far more publicity than it deserves. Grrr. Maybe I am just fucked up, but for as much controversy as these books are stirring up, the sex should have been alot more intense than it was. I’m just sayin’.
Anyhoo, I’m sure there were a few other things I learned, but I’m too busy thinking about snakes and moving blow-jobs to think of them.
Sparklebumpsthebookwhore 