Tag Archives: women

You Men Just Really Have No Idea


Otherwise entitled- Fuck Ya’ll, You Lucky Sons of Bitches.

Yeah, that’s right. you’re all sons of bitches, because your mothers at some point bled like bitches in heat if only for the reason of giving you fortunate assholes life.

I bet you males never even think twice about what we women have to go through every month, (or every other month, in some cases.)

Not only do women have to sit down to pee, (a fact that still vexes me to no end), but while you guys are just standing up shaking your dicks in front of urinals and nonchalantly going about your cramp-free business, women everywhere are suffering because God decided to get us back for one stupid cunt not listening to him eons ago.

Sure, God got credited with a miracle when He turned the Nile into a river of blood, but a woman produced a river of blood from her own body every month, all she gets is dudes bitching about her being on the rag. What the hell?!

I once had a heartless asshat of a coworker who once stated, “What’s the big deal? Girls have periods from the time they’re teenagers. They should just be able to suck it up and deal with it by the time their in their twenties.” I am certain the homicidal look in my eye after he made said statement was enough to scare him straight. But to be sure, next time one of you fuckers eats 20 lbs. of hot wings and downs a case of beer, I’ll be there when your gut is being wretched and your head is pounding and you have fire shooting out of your ass, lovingly smashing your skull in with a baseball bat yelling, “Come on! What’s the big deal?! You’ve been doing this since college! You should be able to handle it!”

Did you ever think for one bloody second, (pun intended) Men, that when an entire aisle of Walmart is dedicated to a woman’s moon flow, that maybe it’s not such a minor thing? Midol, tampons, maxi pads, hot water bottles, chocolate; the only things dedicated to you guys are hemmorhoid cream and little blue pills, neither of which are even in the same goddamn aisle.

When a girl has to curl up into a ball after taking three Midol and a 5th of brandy, and her insides still feel like someone’s practicing their Boyscout’s knots; when her tits ache for weeks before hand; when she gets sooooo pissed off at you because you’re being a stupid idiot, and she tells you so, just be glad she isn’t stomping on your dick with her stilettos, or her motorcycle boots, or what have you, because I guarantee you there isn’t a one of us who hasn’t wanted to do just that when we’re having our periods.

Have a little compassion for your fellow women.

 

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Menage a’ Trois (Almost)


I awoke and found myself if a completely empty room. I didn’t know where I was or how I got there, but oddly enough, I felt completely calm and unpanicked. I looked to my left and saw an open door nearby that, from what I could tell, led down a bare hallway. I realized then that I was unable to move from the spot where I lay; it was as if I had no control over the muscles of my body, yet this failed to alarm me. I had the subconcious feeling that I was waiting for something, and so I continued to do just that.

After a few minutes, a gorgeous woman walked through the doorway. I kid you not when I say she was the sexiest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. Her raven hair fell in gentle waves to her waist and was only shadowed by even darker eyes that looked at me hungrily. She wore all black, which made her impossibly long legs look even lengthier. I didn’t know what to expect, but  a flood of Spanish words coming out of her mouth certainly wasn’t it.

I didn ‘t have a clue what she said. I was actually so struck by her utter perfection that I couldn’t think of anything to say anyway, so I remained mute. I found enough strength to struggle to a sitting position, and was a bit taken aback when this beautiful creature crouched down right in front of me. I remember admiring her balance, because she was wearing these stellar sky-high patent-leather shoes. She placed her perfectly-manicure hands on either side of my face and looked deeply into my eyes before she said a few more foreign words.

Then, she kissed me full on the lips. I instantly sunk into the kiss, and it was like a switch was flipped. She sunk to her knees and moaned as she began to devour me. I shivered as her hands slid down my arms and fumbled with my shirt. Her tongue parted my lips and my tongue met it hungrily in a sensual dance. I could feel my panties growing wet, wetter than they’d ever been; after all, when had anyone this gorgeous (nevermind that she was a complete stranger) ever embraced me with such need? She seemed to know what she was doing to me, because her long fingers slid down and over that heated area, and she pulled away just far enough for me to see the smile that played on the corners of her mouth. She spoke a few more words I couldn’t understand, and then, just as smoothly as she had slid to the floor, she rose and left without a backward glance.

A whimper of need escaped me when I realized she wasn’t coming back. I would have followed her, but my body once again had become immovable. I trembled with desire and frustration as I willed my legs to do their job, and then embarrassment when I looked down and saw the wet evidence of my longing smeared on the concrete floor. It seemed like an eternity that I sat there paralyzed, wondering where the hell I was and what the fuck was going on.

I heard clicking footsteps and my heart quickened. Was my Spanish queen coming back? I thought that it was perhaps her closeness that warmed my body enough to move, (a ridiculous thought, I know) and I promised myself that when she was close enough, I would grab her and not let her escape; I planned to make her desire me as much as she had made me desire her. The thought disipitated when a petite blonde entered the room.

I have never been partial to blondes, and she was not as stunning as my foreign female, yet she was in every other way perfectly tailored to my tastes. She was tiny, yet still possessed those curves that drive men wild. She wore a powder pink nightie that hid nothing of what was underneath, and she grinned coyishly as she bent down and placed a kiss on my upturned forehead.

“Relax, love. I’m here to give you what you want.”

I felt my shoulders unbunch, and my body loosened as she gently pushed me back to the position I had started when I’d woken up to this whole fiasco. Her touch seemed electric; even the innocent nudge on my shoulder sent currents of  want through me. I bit my lip, embarrassed that such a simple touch would create such a reaction. The blonde smiled, and I was mesmerized by the dimples that appeared.

 Her small hands carressed my body, finishing the task of removing my shirt which the brunette had started. Her arm inadvertantly brushed my erect nipple; my back arched and this time I could not hold back the moan that came. My eyes met those of this tiny woman, and I realized the stray touch hadn’t been an accident at all. She ran her finger down my belly, causing goosebumps to appear.  My hips began to move of their own volition, and when I felt her warm hand on my crotch, the movement became more noticeable. She ran her hand over that spot a few times, as she used her other hand to continue creating gooseflesh by running her nails down my sides.

The next second, this diminutive woman had torn my panties away. My eyes widened in surprise; sure, I’d had a man or two do the exact same thing, however, these had been strapping, muscled men, of whom behavior like that was expected. Yet, this angelic-looking girl had just exihibited the behavior of a lusty, animalistic male. If I hadn’t been soaking wet at that point, I certainly would have been now.

I started to speak and she placed a perfect finger on my lips to stop me. Then she lowered her head and ran her tongue around my nipple before she bit down, just slightly. I shivered again, and I heard a laugh come from her throat. Then she was stroking me; expert fingers playing with my clit, before she slid a finger inside me. I was dripping, and her fingers so tiny, that I barely felt it, and she knew that, so she slipped another finger in. I sighed as my eyes rolled back, and she continued to work her fingers. I felt her slip a third finger in, and I thrusted my hips against her; this was the equivilant of having a perfectly- sized dick in me. She wasted no time in adding a fourth finger, though, and I cried out at the unexpected feeling. So much! Yet my body amazingly accomodated, and I was even more turned on. The blonde looked straight into my eyes, and I shook my head  because I knew what was coming, yet my body screamed “Yes!”, and the next moment she plunged her entire fist into me.

I had had a man once try fisting me, but his hands were so large, and my pussy so tight, that he hadn’t even been able to get three fingers in. Yet, this woman had been able to do so.

I sucked in a breath, shocked at the mixture of pleasure and pain. The woman smiled triumphantly, and I came, hard.

Don’t you wish you could have a dream like this every night?  😉 XOXO

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Little Thoughts of Me


In honor of my 100th post, I shall inform all of you Lovelys of the intimate details and secrets that make me….ME. Not all of them, of course, but a few that I have not yet mentioned.

1. I am a pathological liar.

I believe I acquired this habit as a survival tool while I still lived at home. If I had told my dad exactly what I was thinking in my teen years, chances are that instead of being here to entertain you all with my blogginess, I would have been beaten extensively, drowned in a vat of Holy Water, and buried under a mountain so that my filthy sin-ridden spirit could never haunt good Christians again. I am trying desperately to recalibrate my brain so that I don’t lie anymore. I’ve amended it enough that I at least tell the truth in my blog. And to clear things up, I never told a lie that would bring anyone harm; instead, I told whoppers that I never thought anyone would believe, yet did. This makes me think if I ever had the chance, I would definitely win an Oscar for my acting; it also makes me one humdinger of a poker player.

2. I find women infinitely more attractive than men.

If men didn’t have hairy arms, if they didn’t fart, if they smelled of flowers; if they had nice hair, could wear makeup, had no schlong, and had boobies- they would be just as attractive as women. Of course, sex with them wouldn’t be QUITE as fun.

3. I use a handful of dryer sheets in each load of laundry.

My Rockstar seems to have issues with this. I, however, have issues with clothes that just came out of the dryer, yet smell like they haven’t been in the washer yet. While folding on Laundry Day, there DOES tend to be escapee Snuggle sheets floating around though…

4. I think I would make a very good soldier.

Despite the fact that I hate to exercise, if I was to join the military, I would join the Marines, just to see if I could do the basic training. And I WOULD do it. I am much too stubborn NOT to do the tasks that have been set before me. Sadly, I doubt the Marines or any other branch of our lovely Armed Forces would want me if they did a psych evalution on me.

5. I once kissed my ex-husband’s brother.

In my defense, I did NOT initiate said kiss. I had been passed out and he awoke me by sticking his tongue down my throat. We were both drunk, and I thought it was my hubby at first. When I realized who it was, I pushed him away, and got pissed at his shit-eating grin. I told my hubby about it later and he didn’t believe me. Go figure. I tell the truth and no one believes me.

6. My ex-brother-in-law once tried to initiate a three-some.

Not the same man as afore-mentioned. I went out drinking with my ex-hubby’s sister and her man. When we arrived back at their house in a drunken stupor, my sis-in-law proceeded to vomit profusely into a bucket and then pass out in the bed I was assigned to. I lay down next to her intent on falling asleep, but was rudely interrupted by her guy’s tumescent boner being poked at me in a quite-unwelcome manner. I pushed him off the bed and ended up sleeping on the living room floor.

7. I dream every day of living anywhere other than Minnesota.

I believe I am descended from Gypsies.

8. I used to entertain myself on my Uncle’s farm in the days of my youth by throwing huge boulders onto partially-dried cowpies.

If you’ve never felt the thrill of watching cow shit erupt in a greenish burst of grossness, I suggest you try it.

9. I used to have a crush on the man who played Willow in the movie Willow.

Yes, he is a little person. In my defense, we were the same height when I had a crush on him.

10. If I lived alone, my house would be a complete pig sty.

I would like to say this isn’t true, but if it weren’t for my Rockstar, my house would resemble the really gross places on Hoarders. I detest housework. Oddly enough, at any place where I’ve worked, I am extremely picky about cleanliness. I do  not understand this.

11. I own roughly 2,500 books.

Not nearly enough.

12. I crave affection.

I would seriously hug every new person I meet, every time I see them. I also wouldn’t mind holding their hand- if anyone feels that they wish to be my Personal Snuggle Bunny, come on over to my house. I realize this is a bit creepy.

13. I desperately want kids of my own, yet at the same time, the thought of having my own kids makes me cringe at the responisibility that would come with it.

 

P.S. One more thing I will include, though I had to do it in a P.S.- you will see why. I am OCD about even numbers. I hate them, and I won’t make a list that ends in one.

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Women Is Bitches.


Today I shall ask the question that confuses me greatly. Why are there so many men who are completely pussy-whipped? Don’t get me wrong; I believe pussy is a perfectly valid incentive for men to do what they do, but to elaborate,  why are men completely pussy-whipped by bitches?

I will admit,  I am very selfish and think I should have my way essentially always, but having my way does not generally in any way hinder my man from having his way, except for the occasions when he wants to take naps. (I understand as one get older, a person may need a nap, but at 40?) What I am talking about is when women try to change a man in such a way that only benefits themselves, and NOT the man. And why do men put up with that?

For example, my ex-hubby has a friend who is in this situation. Perhaps a year after he was married, this friend, (who we will call “Bob”) came over to drink with us at my ex-brother-in-law’s. I was carrying on and having a lively old time when my hubby came over to me and told me I should go give “Bob” a hug because he was crying in his beer. (literally) So I went on over to “Bob” and gave him a big ol’ Sparklebumps hug, and he proceeded to bitch about his wife for the next little while. He carried on about how she yelled at him all the time, and how she never wanted him to have any fun unless she was there, and how he was going to be in trouble tomorrow because he was out drinking tonight without her. In my drunken state, I nodded and gave my honest opinion, “Yes, well, you have to realize that not every girl is as fun as me.” This seemed to make him feel better, (because he was drunken and of course it made sense) and the next day, he went home to his wife and told her we did It. (which was not true and most definitely NOT my point) Anyhoo, that story is for another time. The point is that instead of divorcing her nagging, controlling ass, he moved on to have 3 more kids with her. Maybe he likes her better now, or he just realizes that if he was to leave the child support payments would be killer, but what possessed him to stay in the first place?

Another example is my friend, whom I love dearly, but after listening to her bitch about her boyfriends for the past 12 years, I would never consider wanting to marry her. She is a great girl- she’s pretty, indepedent, and has a great job, but every single boyfriend she’s ever had she has tried to change and control, (which is why I believe she is not yet married). Perhaps they were just not “The One”, who knows.

A few years ago, she was “dating” (fucking) a man who was from a different country, and who had stated in the very beginning he would never consider marrying her because his family wouldn’t approve. Yes, he was a momma’s boy, but if a man told you that would you stick around and try to change his mind? The entire relationship was spent in a cloud of argumentative bliss, she trying to convince him to be a better boyfriend, and then reprimanding him passionately when he refused. She broke up with him, he broke up with her, they got back together… you know. The point is, why would any man in their right mind put up with that? She has since found a new man, but bugs him constantly about buying her a ridiculously uneconomical engagement ring.

A final example is my ex-hubby. No, I am not referring to his time with me, as I have already proved that I won’t stay around if someone doesn’t want to change for me. (And anyway, I’m awesome) I am speaking of his current relationship. I occasionally get texts from him, in which he informs me of the latest going-ons, and he has stated to me that she runs a tight ship and he’s not sure he wants to marry her because she is that way. WHY WOULD HE STAY WITH HER?!

There are just as many a-hole men out there too. (Just to prove that I’m not being sexist.) But seriously, what makes a man want to deal with a bitch?I believe that men (and women) should indeed compromise and change for their partner in ways that are beneficial to both parties. I don’t think one should ever “be the boss” of the other, as that seemed to spark resentment, and anyway, if you wanted to spend your life being bossed around, why wouldn’t you just work? I don’t think a man should ever have to say, “She won’t LET me.” XOXO

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Beautifically-Impaired


Hello, My Lovelys! My blog today shall be a little harsh, but I just can’t put it off any longer. I shall be addressing the fact of how unfortunate-looking my Rockstar’s ex is. (the one he has a daughter with, NOT his model ex-wife) I’m not saying this because I harbor a secret vendetta against her, because I don’t; I must mention it simply because I cannot understand how he could have kissed (or MORE-ed) someone who makes me go “Eeesh!” when I look at her. And as they say, “If you can’t say anything nice, come sit next to me!”

Last evening was my Rockstar’s Daughter’s first soccer game, or as she put it, “The best day of my LIFE!”. It actually ended up being the night I realized that there are freezing mini-hurricanes in Minnesota, but that’s beside the point. While we were watching the game,(the Daughter was easy to spot on the field because her jersey hung down past her shorts, so she looked like she hadn’t any pants on) her Mom came up around half-time and started watching with us. I have already mentioned in past blogs how accutely curious I am about my Rockstar’s exes, and this one is no exception. I actually got aquainted with her when they were dating about 11 years ago, when I was still dating my not yet Ex-hubby. The only thing I remember about her back then is that she was the oldest person at the party we were at, and a complete Fun-Dud. (I suppose that comes sometimes with age, but thinking about it, she would have been around the age I am now, and I’m the funnest person I know.) I remember my Ex telling me at the time that this woman and my Rockstar started dating because she just started coming over to his house and taking her clothes off. Makes sense to me- after all, he IS a rockstar…

Anyhoo, as we were watching the soccer game, I was more than slightly distracted by this woman, who we will now artlessly call Ugly Ex. Her profile itself was so disturbing, that I began to tune out the game and examine her more closely (and probably not very discreetly.) When I stare at people like this, (which I do quite often, I admit) I try to notice everything about them. Yes, this may seem unconventional, but it’s just one of my things, so there. Have you ever heard of the word jowls? Because in my extensive reading, I have come upon this word quite frequently, mostly describing Henry VIII or Elvis in their later drug-induced years. I have never encountered someone in real life who actually has them, until last night. Ugly Ex has them. The oddest part about this is that she is not really over-weight- in fact, I would say she probably weighs less than me- in her bra, in her hair, in her ass, and anywhere else where a few extra pounds would actually look exceptional. So, aside from the jowls, her facial skin is very ruddy looking, which I suppose may not be able to be helped. As she turned to say something to my Rockstar, I was startled by her teeth, which are quite yellowed (from much smoking and Coca-Cola), and the fact that they are crooked. Remember Jewel’s little snaggle tooth? Imagine that all the way across. Ok, I admit, they are maybe not THAT bad, but I can’t come up with a better example. At that point, I felt I had to look away from her facial area, as I had seen enough, although I will mention that she has a double chin, which I have noticed may carry down slighty to the Daughter, unfortuneatly. Moving down, my eyes slid right past her very flat ass to her feet. Feet are kinda important to me, as I am obsessed with shoes, though I have come across many unpleasant paws in my life. Sadly, this was one of those occassions. Her very gnarly toenails were painted with that sandy brownish color that old ladies wear. By then, I felt I had come to a decision. My Rockstar had better be DAMN happy he’s got me. even if, at times, I AM neurotic.

No, I do not feel threatened by her. I may resent her a bit for having got to have a child with MY Rockstar, but I know he loves me (he never even liked her much- his words). Do not feel bad that I have torn her to pieces, because her looks have not in any way hindered her ability in catching enough men to have spawned three daughters from three different men. I just can’t get over the fact that when I look at her, it makes me go “Eesh!” XOXO

P.S. I just walked by Maurices on the way to work, and their mannequin’s boobies are disturbingly perky.

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Thank You Note to Eve


Dear First Woman of the Earth, Eve-

I would like to take this opportunity to thank you for being a complete dumbass, and NOT listening when God told you not to eat of the Tree. If you had never eaten the fruit, I would have never had this chance to acknowledge you, as we all would have been sauntering around naked in flawless bliss in the Garden of Eden. Instead, I shall mention just a few of the ways in which your transgression has affected my life…

Without you, Eve, I never would have gotten to suffer the utter embarrassment of getting my first period in 4th grade, at school, with my life-blood seeping through my skirt for all to see, or my mother announcing to the ENTIRE family at Labor Day brunch, “She’s a woman now!”

I would never have gotten to endure the past 20 years of excruciating menstrual cramps, or known about the joy of ass-piss without having had food poisoning. I look forward to the next approximate 20 years I have of enjoying these lovely side affects of having my moon-flow. Thank you, also, because only an entire bottle of brandy will keep me from curling up into a fetal position from the pain.

Eve, my gratitude is never-ending, for the sin you committed that day, and for the fact that I get to spend my last $5 of the week on super-absorbent tampons, instead of putting it toward the fabulous black patent-leather shoes with leopard-print stillettos that I had my eye on, because my cooch resembles the beginning battle scenes of Saving Private Ryan.

You have not only touched me. My Rockstar will also forever be indebted to you, as he is now subject to the mood swings of the Fiend -Formerly- Known- As-His- Girlfriend. I will attest to the fact that he basks in the recognition that at any given moment, I may just decide to whip a butcher knife in his direction, or burst into hysterics. Why would he ever look for another woman? He’s got 7 different personalities right here.

I appreciate the fact that because of you, Eve, I will not be having anything remotely resembling a Skinny Day for the next 5-7 days and that my face is shining radiantly with excess grease and pimples. Stretchy pants and zit cream are a fashionable necessity to my wardrobe.

All in all, Eve, if you had thought about what you were doing before your  narcissistic self disobeyed God, we women would have never had the joy of bleeding profusely from our twats, which would have been unanimously catostrophic. Period.

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