‘Scuse Me … I Just Vomited In This Blog.
Aug 29, 2010 Completely Hypothetical and Generally Specific, Current Events, Etc., Fitness Forward, Friendship, Out of Wicked's Mouth, P.O.E. Biz, Parenting, Random, Ranteriffic, Thoughts and Perceptions, Wicked Wisdoms, bitch
Today is as good a day as any to write a blog about things that have been 1) happening 2) not happening and 3) wandering around my thoughts like a transient.
Can you picture a transient with their backpack-on-a-stick in my head? Can ya?
What exactly is today though? Today is Friday. That is it. It is not a special day by any means. It is a Friday just like any other Friday. Instead of doing what I am supposed to be doing which is my job – I am sitting here pondering what this blog will discuss.
(by the time you are reading it though, it could very well be Sunday or Monday … but whatever.)
(Sorry K.A.)
Shit, this blog might turn in to more than one if it gets too lengthy. I may very well word vomit the fuck out of your eyes if I get a wild hair.
Don’t tempt me.
This brings me to my first thought: Should I even still blog here? It doesn’t seem like I have very many people interested in what I have to say anymore. Not that I necessarily blog for people specifically, but the commentary usually consists of 25% real comments 75% spam about a god damn vibrator website or something?
Hmmmmm … Are these spambots trying to tell me something?
Today I am wearing my fat pants. They are jeans that I haven’t worn in over a year because they were falling off of me. Literally. Not today. No way. They are quite fitted today and that actually sent me to tears over it this morning when I was looking in the mirror.
The reason behind me wearing my fat pants today might have a little something to do with the hand-to-mouth issue I have been having lately.
11PM chocolate doughnut in my mouth? Not helping.
Mashed potatoes? Not helping.
I cannot even remember all of the stupid stress/emotional/pitypartyaboutmyfatness eating I have done as of late but because of it I have gone backwards instead of forward. Now my cute clothes clothes don’t fit and I feel like shit.
So here I sit, wearing my fat pants feeling all crappy about it. And as I re-read this last thought, I am like “fuck should I really even write it? It sounds all whiny and pathetic to even be talking about it yet AGAIN. Maybe I should shut up and run my fat ass to the gym more than once in a blue moon.”
Or maybe I will do both.
Just because I fell off the wagon and picked up 10lbs along the way doesn’t mean that I cant catch back up to it and hop on.
Yeah to some it is “only 10lbs” or “you have picked up a little weight, it isn’t a big deal” but it is a lot of pounds and an even bigger deal to me. To me I can feel it from the inside out and I am not a fan. If I could find the central location of said 10lbs and click the dislike button on them I would.
That also means I am now 25 pounds from my goal. Damnit.
Moving on.
I have an opinion about specific people lately that I have spent a lot of energy keeping to myself. It is probably why there has been an absence in my blogs. Because there becomes a point where no matter how unsugarcoated and blunt I am … there is a line where too blunt could cause a rift in other peoples lives who have little to do with any of my opinions. One has to be careful when being blunt as an adult sometimes which I think is bullshit.
What I will say though is that I absolutely despise flakes. I think that Mrs. Good is my #1 advocate on this very subject actually. I am pretty sure that she could go on for hours about it if she had the time. The fact is flakiness = inconsideration for others. I am too old to have this lack of consideration in my life.
This is how non-flakiness is supposed to work:
Friend: “Lets make plans for Tuesday”
Other Friend: “Perfect! Give me a call when you have an idea what time you will be free!”
Friend: “For sure!!
Fast forward to Tuesday. What is supposed to happen is the friend is supposed to call the other friend. Why? Because that friend was the plan initiator. The other friend is the plan recipricator. The other friend goes about their business as any other Tuesday business would go. What actually happens is the friend never calls. Not to confirm or to cancel. The friend just lets the day come and go and thinks that it is okay.
Non-flakes call. They say things like “Man, I am so sorry that I cannot make it. I overbooked myself today. Can we reschedule?” How freaking simple is that? I am just wondering because fuck if people have no clue how to do this simple step.
Furthermore, there comes a point where people need to be held accountable for their actions. I will (reluctantly) be the first to admit when something is my bad. I will (force myself through gritted teeth) to apologize when I am wrong. What I will not do is try and let time pass and act as if just because 2 weeks passed, everything is now okay between me and someone else.
Lets not ignore the elephant in the room people. It is sitting right there. Say “how’d ya do!?” and keep it pushin.
Don’t come at me sideways because I sit on the elephants lap while you do the avoiding responsibility dance. Friend, family, co-worker … I don’t give a fuck. Own your shit. Or stay out of my life.
Ya digg?
Furthermore I would like to say the following to a certain couple of catty bloggers in the ’sphere: “Hate away bitches. Continue on with your high school mean girls ways. What is going to happen is this: You will come to a point where 1) people will get over your clique-y bullshit. 2) You will interact with some adults who will clown you to tears and let you and everyone else catty that is around you know what is up with your bullshit.
The bottom line is this. You may be all power trip queen of your metropolitan area, but you are not queen of the world. Your circle is not that big and I don’t give a fuck how tweet savvy you are. Karma is a bitch. Remember that.
Oh. And also, I really really really really want my long hair back. I am so sick of it being short that I could cry.
On that note, life is alright and I miss blogging but I need some people to make me feel like they want me to keep blogging here. Deal?
Name the one current event that has you fired up (in a good OR bad way) right now.
Honest Tuesday’s: Barely Naked
Aug 2, 2010 Fitness Forward, Honest Tuesday's, In It To Gym It, Out with the Old Wicked in with the New Wicked, This Thing Called Marriage., Thoughts and Perceptions, Wicked & D Quotables, Wicked Wisdoms, bitch
**WARNING: You might not want to read this if you know me know me. If you do, you are reading at your own risk.**
Me: “Knock it off. I feel like I should be grazing in the grass. Chewing on some cud or something.”
D: “What? No! You are sexy.”
Me: “I am NOT sexy.”
D: “You are sexy to me!”
Me: “But I am not sexy to ME.”
I swear to fuck this ^^^ conversation has become a regular one in my Wicked domain.
I hate this conversation. I hate the way it makes me feel when my own issue hurts the feelings of the other person who matters.
But I can’t help it. A million people could tell me how pretty I look or how sexy I am … but if I don’t feel it inside … it truly doesn’t matter what they say. I have to be the one to feel that way about myself. Yanno?
It is all in my head. I get it. It is my own issue. Mine. Not his. Not yours. Mine.
I wake up and am reminded of it. I immediately pull my shirt down that has ridden up maaaaybe 2 inches and twisted itself around me while I slept, peacefully snuggled in between a 3 year old, a kitten, a new puppy (that is not really a puppy he is 2 but I am not sure I like yet) and D.
The first thing I think about when I wake up is whether or not my stomach fat shows. In my own house. Who does that?
Personal hell? I think so.
It is stupid to feel this way. I know it is. I am sure that what I see is probably not as bad as what you see, but when I look in the mirror I am repulsed. Like throw up in my mouth repulsed.
So then it goes a little somethin like:
D: “Do you wanna do it?”
Me: “No!”
D: (insert disappointed face)
Me: (insert feeling like an asshole)
I cannot make myself want something I don’t want. And it isn’t even that I don’t want ‘it’ … I simply don’t want to see myself naked and I sure as hell don’t want anyone else to either. Not even D. And we have been together for 10 years.
Gah. It is affecting everything. I am that wife. The wife I swore to God I would never ever be. But I see it happening. It is like I am stuck inside a sound proof bubble watching the fat unmotivated me take over the world and I am completely powerless over it.
Me: “I am tired.”
Me: “I have a headache.”
Me: “I don’t feel good.”
To put it simply, I am uninspired and I hate it. My life isn’t even all fucked up. I really have absolutely nothing to bitch about and I am bitching anyway.
I am barely naked and that sucks because I really fucking LOVE being naked. !!!!
Fuck. Am I really even writing this?
Someone tell me to getthefuckoverit already.
Ready, set, GO!
(p.s. I am getting my shit back on track. I am paying attention to what I am eating and firmly reminding myself that a cheeseburger a day does NOT keep the DR. away. Also, I worked out tonight and it felt great. Now to make it a habit again. 
Ya Digg!?)
What inspires you?
If I Were A Business
Apr 28, 2010 Current Events, DUH, Ranteriffic, Wicked Wisdoms, bitch
I am a consumer. A buyer. I want what I want, and when I set my mind to purchasing whatever it is that I want to purchase… I want it now.
It goes back to the little teeny bit of Veruca Salt inside of me.
When I make a decision to buy something, be it a camera or a pair of shoes or a tanning package, I require the same criteria:
1) The seller is nice to me.
2) No matter if I am scrubby or dolled, I am treated as if I have eleventy million dollars in my pocket.
3) I am made to feel somewhat important.
4) The seller is knowledgeable in the product I am purchasing.
It goes across the board. I will not buy a motherfucking breath of air from you if I am blue in the face from lack of oxygen if you are not on your game. I will walk out the door and spend the latter part of my life looking for the exact same product AND I will gladly pay more money strictly because of principal.
Furthermore, I will not refer business.
It frustrates me to no end when I reach out, as a consumer, and I am blown off.
This recently happened to me. Do you remember the impatient haircutting incident from earlier this week? Yeah. I am still waiting to hear from a potential stylist. I emailed her on Sunday. And again yesterday.
Guess what? I am going to happily pay double on Saturday for another stylist to cut my hair. Yup. Annnnnnnnd I am going to refer her services out to as many people as possible.
Take that nonresponsivestylist! You just lost at least 5 repeat customers.
Do the motherfucking math.
What kind of consumer are you?
What is the worst buying situation you have been a part of?
Affirm – A – Tive – Ly Speaking.
Apr 7, 2010 Current Events, Etc., Out with the Old Wicked in with the New Wicked, P.O.E. Biz, bitch
I suck and so do my sales.
Those who know more than I do say that it is important to invest in myself and re-affirm my abilities and not focus on the negative things like how it has been almost THREE selling weeks since I have popped a deal.
(did I say that out loud?)
Fine. I won’t be all bitter and cranky and hateful and negative and mad and cunty and bitchy and mean to Rob about it and shit. Fine.
Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine.
*inhale*
I am good at my job.
I am really pretty. And smart. And awesome.
I have sold credits which means I can sell more credits.
I will make copious amounts of money. And use it wisely. (not on hookers or anything silly like that.)
I have great legs. And tits. And eyes.
I will do whatever it takes to hit Presidents Club. It is not out of my reach.
I am a good mom. And wife. And friend.
I will listen. And absorb. And apply what I learn.
I will invest in myself.
I will sell credits.
I will sell credits.
I will break this streak of nonsellingbullshittery.
*exhale*
Carry on. And fuck YOU. Yeah you. I still hate your face.
(Oh. And go ahead and throw some personal affirmations out there. It might make you feel better about something that you may or may not be internalizing.)
Would you rather date someone who’s feet consistently smelled or who’s breath consistently smelled?
Tags: affirmations
Whatever Happened to Wednesday’s: Having a Ballsack
Apr 6, 2010 Completely Hypothetical and Generally Specific, Current Events, DUH, I Forgot to Tag, Out of Wicked's Mouth, Ranteriffic, Relationships, Suck It!, Whatever Happened to? Wednesdays, bitch
Welcome to WHtW!
Today I am gonna completely hypothetically and generally specifically rant about people who don’t have ballsacks. Women and men alike who lack the sack o’ ball.
So whatever happened to them? Seriously? It seems like people are so God damned afraid to say what they really think or feel in fear of judgment or … *GASP* making someone feel uncomfortable. It is everywhere. Politics. School. Work. Life. Relationships. The fear of “saying the wrong thing” seems to take over more than I have ever noticed.
I say fuck that. Grow a pair and tell someone how you really feel already. What is the worst that could possibly happen? They might not like you? Fuck it. If they can’t take a bit of honesty, then I would rather not have them in my life anyway.
The trick is HOW you say it. Savvy. Smooth. Saying fuck off with the biggest smile on your face.
Who could hate a face as cheesy as that!? 
Having a ballsack can mean so many different things … depending on the situation.
It means that when you need to let someone off the hook … you just.fucking.do it rather than allowing them to remain on the hook thinking that everything is okay.
Having a ballsack means saying what you need to say. Not talking in circles, hoping that maybe they will get your drift.
It means taking complete responsibility for something. Out loud. Not in the privacy of your own home when no one can hear you.
It means understanding what having consideration for another person means.
Having a ballsack means that you are the asshole sometimes. But at least you are respected for being honest.
It definitely means that at the end of the day, you are always who you portray yourself to be. Or, at least 99% of the time anyway.
It means that when push comes to shove, you will lay it all out on the line simply because it is the right thing to do.
Furthermore, having a ballsack gives you the courage to know that sometimes, doing the right thing is not always liked by everyone.
Ballsack = Integrity
It also = Honesty
And = Consideration
Maybe a little bit = Asshole
All in all, having a ballsack can mean everything to someone. Even if your ballsack means little or nothing to you.
Just saying.
Would you rather someone lie to spare your feelings or tell you the truth? BE HONEST.
Jay Leno or David Letterman? Why?
What is your favorite song right now?
Tags: ballsack, do the right thing, done and done, integrity, lie
Honest Tuesday’s: I Typically Don’t Like People
Apr 5, 2010 Friendship, Honest Tuesday's, bitch
Welcome to Honest Tuesday’s! A place where you can come and be totally honest about shit that you normally would not be honest about.
I was talking to my FIL’s friend over Easter brunch and the topic came up about me and my general dislike of people. She was a tad surprised that I blurted it out so brashly … saying that I seemed more of a people person than not.
So I got to thinking. (shutup.)
I have a love-hate relationship with being a people person. Don’t get me wrong. I love meeting new people … but at the same time … I typically hate people. Specifically when I first meet someone. It is rare that I meet a person and like them right away. Usually I am totally stand-offish with them and it takes a great deal of awesomeness on their part before I am all like “So’N'So is so totally awesome I just bigfatheart them!”
Also I would never say “is so totally” but I felt the need to be exaggeratory (like my made up word? I know you do.) right then.
9 times out of 10 people are not who they portray. Especially when you meet them in social settings.
Wicked no likey fake fucks. Especially ones who attempt to be something that they aren’t OR try and hide who they actually are for show.
If you are broke, fine. Be broke.
If you are a slut, PERFECT! Own that slutty-ness!
If you like compulsively, meh. I may or may not have to tell you about yourself.
If you are stupid, FINE! Stop trying to use big words that are completely out of context because you have no idea what the big word actually means. Seriously.
Furthermore, people are gross. Dirty, filthy fucking germ receptacles. If you “surprise!” and lined 10 people up in front of their houses for a completely spontaneous walk-thru, I bet you more than 60% of their environments would be foul and blech. Don’t touch me. Don’t breathe on me. Get your dickbeaters off of things that belong to me and not you.
We are not friends until I have done a full assessment. I need to make damn sure that you are who you say you are because believe me … I have thought that someone was all sorts of awesome, and then I was proven wrong quicker than a teenage boy’s first time inside the vajay. JustAGirl knows allllllllllllllll too well.
So the moral of this story is that I like who I like. The rest of you’s can kindly get your face out of my face.
Alright, spill it. What do you need to be honest about this week?
Are you a “people person”?
What is your favorite “old school” dance move?
Tags: Honest Tuesday's, people
You CAN Teach an Old Wicked New Tricks, Etc.
Apr 4, 2010 Current Events, Family, Parenting, Random, The Tarably Wicked Show, bitch
Happy Monday!
It is a new week … a new month … a new quarter. I have a new car.
Did you hear me people?! I HAVE A NEW CAR!
Well. New to me. It is a 2006 Mazda 3. I big fat heart it. Biiiiiiiiig fat heart.
Now I have to learn how to drive it because it is a manual and I do not know how to drive a manual.
I have only driven a manual once and I broke the car. (shutup.) It was an older car.
So today I drove it. 
On the freeway and on the backstreets and in the parking lot. I didn’t break it.
Hm. I guess you can teach an old dog new tricks.
Here in a week or so, I plan to be a pro.
I will obviously keep you updated.
Anyway.
I have noticed something fucking weird and in my opinion, pretty fucking stupid.
So there is this update on some FBers status’s where it updates their locations. Like with a map pinpoint and everything.
“So’n'So is at Starbucks in Everett, WA”
“So’n'So is at such and such bar in Seattle, WA”
Really?
Are we THAT fucking obsessed with social networking? To the point where we are letting the world know our exact location every second of every day? Really? Reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeally?
That is the stupidest fucking thing I have ever heard or seen in my life.
I do not want the entire population of my friends to know my GPS pinpointed location. I just would prefer to have a teeny tiny bit of privacy.
Just a teeny bit.
Lastly, I have a confession.
I hate Easter dresses. I will not put my baby girl in a frilly foo-foo polka dot big bowed Easter monstrosity. I hated them when I was little and I hate them now. I don’t give a damn if your child is pageant ready. Slap an Easter dress on her and she is insta-notcuteanymore.
Like this.
Like “just add water” and shit.
Alright folks. That is all I have for today. Sorry that this is super pointless and pretty much boring. My weekend consisted of car shopping and grocery shopping and Easter business. The life of domestication.
How was your weekend?
Where would your dream vacation be?
What is your least favorite food?
Tags: car shopping, facebook, just add water, mazda3
Shit and Stuff and Things
Mar 28, 2010 All Things X, Completely Hypothetical and Generally Specific, Family, I WIN!, Out of Wicked's Mouth, Out with the Old Wicked in with the New Wicked, Random, Ranteriffic, Suck It!, Thoughts and Perceptions, bitch
Welcome to a new week. I would say “Happy Monday” but fuck that. Idontwanna.
I hosted my grand opening Tupperware party this weekend! A big fat shout out to the ladies who came and supported me in trying something new. If anything, any extrah mooh-lah that comes from it will help pay for my shopping addiction.
Anyway, whether you are a Tupperware virgin or not … please take a peek on my website and see if there is anything that you simply would die without owning in your house. The closing for this particular party is on Friday.
WickedCourtni’s Tupperware Website
/end shameless self-promotion.
So I was laying here, after the aforementioned party … completely exhausted and a little sad that I had nothing left to distract me from all of the bullshit going on … I started FB stalking. Yep, I am an offender of silently stalking people that I would not really be interested in talking to ever, but am curious as to how their lives have played out. Whatever. I know that at least 90% of you have done it.
I landed on my H.S. Alumni list of peeps. Class of ‘97 WOOT WOOT! (totally kidding)
I came to re-realize a couple of things while checking in on these peeps:
1) I really hated high school. Like, H A T E D it.
I am pretty sure that my hatred for all things high school had everything to do with the fact that I never really was at a school long enough to build life-long friendships until the 9th grade. Even then it was a difficult thing for me to really fit in.
So, I said fuck it and was a cunt to pretty much anyone that looked at me funny.
2) I don’t recognize over half of the people I graduated with.
Thank god I am friends with the pretty people because there were some Fugly’s and Butterface’s in my graduating class. Seriously.
How did I ever get laid in H.S.?
Oh yeah. I had boy toys OFF campus. *winkwink*
So the other evening, Xavier comes rushing out of his room. He is known for his jokester ways, so I am always interested in his latest attempt at comic relief. (Like when he tried to get me with a whoopie cushion the other day. Little shit.)
He is out of breath. Excited. Animated. And he says:
X: “I have invented a knew move.”
Me: “A dance move?”
X: “No. A kung-fu move.”
Me: “Reeeee aaa lly.”
X: “Yup. I call it to-fu.”
Me: “Is that right.”
X: “Yup. It is a move that goes straight for the toe. Badum CHING”
Me: “Wow. HA HA HA!”
My kid. I wish he was always like this and not like how he has been with his bad ass.
Also, bug-a-boo’s are annoying. People who are just in your face with some shit that you just do not give a fuck about.
Also Also, Squishy is getting married soon and I am freaking the hell out about that fact.
Also, I am teetering on a bout of writers block. I need some suggestions on stuff to write about for my weekly’s: Honest Tuesday’s & Whatever Happened to Wednesday’s. And I also need some TMIThursday guest posts: email me! wickedcourtni@gmail.com
Alllllllllllsoooooooo, I think that people who don’t know me who are around me need to figure it out. I am not the one and I promise you that if there is a continuous assumption on your part that I actually am the one … you will get phased out quick like Quick Draw McGraw. Don’t play me. You will lose the little high school games you are attempting (horribly might I add) to play.
My quote of the week: “What doesn’t kill you will only make you stronger.”
Done and done.
Would you rather lick day old dirty dishes clean in the sink OR clean the toilet with your toothbrush and then brush your teeth right after?
Bite or spank?
What is your quote of the week?
Tags: high school, make you stronger, party, quick draw mcgraw, tupperware, what doesnt kill you
Whatever Happened to Wednesday’s: Subtle-ty
Mar 23, 2010 Completely Hypothetical and Generally Specific, DUH, I Forgot to Tag, Random, Relationships, Sex, Thoughts and Perceptions, Whatever Happened to? Wednesdays, Wicked Wisdoms, bitch
Yeah bitches, I just made up my own word right there. I need to start a Wicked-ictionary.
Anyway.
Welcome to Whatever Happened to Wednesday’s!
Today’s WHtW was inspired by a story told to me today by a co-worker. In re-living this story with Tarable and sharing a “daaaaaaaaaayum that is fucked up” laugh about it … My blog light bulb went off.
Wanna hear it? Here it goes:
Picture standing in line at the grocery store, minding your own business. You are standing behind a young couple, but the observation of them in front of you was simply that. An observation.
Until ….
The couple unloads their basket. The guy nonchalantly drops a box of Magnums on the counter.
(Lets freeze this moment for a second. Have you ever bought any sort of unmentionable at the grocery store? Condoms, lube, monistat … tampons … all of these come paired with just a little bit of a “I hope no one notices that I am buying this” knot in your belly. Some of us try and cover it with another product. Some just throw it in last minute. Whatever. We all have been there. Are you there with me right now? Good.)
So the guy. He drops the condoms. The “My dick is monstrous” condoms. That right there is a statement.
Then the following conversation (if that is what you want to call it) happens:
Girl: “Why do you keep buying these? They always fall off.”
Um. So. Yeah. I was not there but I am pretty sure that THIS is what my face would have looked like if I had:
And then like this:
And lastly like this:
This leads me to the topic at hand: Subtle-ty.
Her saying that would be like him saying something to the effect of “Why didn’t you grab that Vagisil, babe? Your vagina smells and tastes like cheese!” in the line at the grocery store.
You ladies just cringed right there, didn’t you? See!?
It is broads like this that give us women a bad name. Right here. I mean, having a Magnum-worthy penis is rad. Believe me. I know this. But it is like the Michael Phelps of the penis. Not everyone is gonna win Gold medals. Average is average. Shit even ABOVE average.
but there were a couple of ways to handle this situation that would have not stripped this mans balls from his body:
1) A simple whisper. Not a God damn broadcast.
2) Simply saying “I will be right back babe.” And walking the box of manhood detrimental condoms back and getting an appropriate box instead. Maybe ribbed for her pleasure or something.
Subtle-ty. It is important in life. Not just in regard to penis size or manhood. In life in general. Maybe this phenomenon comes with age or maturity or something … but I am just saying. Think about who else might be affected by your thoughtless broadcast of their faults.
Can you think of another situation where subtle-ty might be super important?
What would you do if you were him in that situation?
Tags: condom, magnum, megaphone, monistat, penis, safe sex, subtle, tampon, trojan
TMIThursday: Rhymes With Perp.
Mar 17, 2010 Completely Hypothetical and Generally Specific, Etc., Sex, TMI Thursday's, Yum... or Lack There Of., bitch
Welcome to TMIT! Lilu is the founder of the awesome awfulness … so go show her and all of the other TMIT contributors some pukeinyourmouth trainwreckyoucantturnaway love.
Our guest TMITer is a brave man. A noble man. Because reading this story makes me stabby.
Say hello to Vic!
Andddd … Prepare yourself to want to punch a bitch in the face.
Welcome to my triumphant return to the blogosphere! As a guest blogger for TMIT, I thought I’d share waaay too much information with you all. Because, well, I’m like that. And you’ll laugh. You fucking better, ‘cuz I went through a lot to bring this little story to you:
God, it seems, is not without a sense of humor.
And it seems as though I am at the butt of his jokes way too often.
Several years ago, I wrote a blog posing the question as to whether or not the actors and actresses in the Valtrex commercials could ever get a date. There was simply not enough money to get me to be in one of those commercials and run the risk of this scenario playing out:
“I like you, and I’m really attracted to you…. But I can’t shake the feeling that I”ve seen you somewhere before.”
“I get that a lot. Err, I must have a familiar face.”
“Wait, I know! You’re in commercials! Yeah! Wait… which one was it?”
“Don’t worry about it gorgeous, I think you must be confusing me with someone …”
“NO! It was the Valtrex commercial! The herpes medicine, right? Umm, I have to go. My dog has to be dry cleaned… or something…”
Flash forward 4 years. I’m single, out of a long-term relationship. A monogamous one. The number of women I had been with in the past five years could be counted on Dennis Hopper’s hand in Speed. But the time had come to add another one to the list.
It was… not bad.
And then it happened.
There was a look on her face, and she said, “I need to tell you something.”
Me, being the smartass that you all know and love, replied with, “What, did you give me herpes or something?”
“Uhh… yeah, well about that…”
God, it seemed, just pissed his pants laughing. The first thing I thought was that I was getting payback for that blog. The second thing I thought was that it just. fucking. figured. Here I am, cautious, monogamous, and the first time out of the box after being with only one woman the past 3 years, my dick craps out.
(the Herp)
Turns out, after 2 weeks of hell, testing, and waiting, that nothing was wrong. That she got retested and it turns out she had a false positive. Really, I swear, I’m clean. Tested twice, and once again 6 months later.
But FUCK! Why the hell wouldn’t you tell me that beforehand? Give me an option here… let me make my own educated decision on the deal! I’m not saying it’s the same, but I understand how it feels to be violated… to have your choice taken away.
Needless to say, I “lost” her number. Nothing is worth that insanity.
Not even the A-T-M.
(and not the A-T-M that you get money out of.)
So there you have it. Meet Vic ladies! Wanna date him?!
Who else would have punched her in her face or dirty vagina?
Please email your own TMIT’s to wickedcourtni@gmail.com
Tags: commercial, herpes, tmithursday, valtrex
