The Cutest Thing EVAH.
Apr 21, 2010 All Things Charli, Current Events, Family, Parenting, TMI Thursday's, Wicked MOMMY Wisdoms
Happy Thursday!
So last week, I realized that I was late to the blog-party … and Ms. Lilu brought our beloved TMIThursday to an end.
Maybe if I read more blogs more often I would have been eased into this idea. (Sorry.) I may or may not post a random TMIT. I haven’t decided.
Anyway. The cutest things are happening with my 2 year old right now. She is talking … i.e. full sentences with me, her dad, Cyndie, Tarable, Bruher (brother) and all of her stuffed play toy friends.
She is opinionated and bossy and stubborn and difficult and really really funny.
She is also the baby. We are still struggling with bedtime and sleeping through the night. It never fails, at anywhere from 2am-5am she sneaks up to my side of the bed and crawls in next to me.
Ask me if I am over it. G’head.
*nods head*
So we attempt to make progress every night. We compromise. We conquer monsters. We have stuffed animal slumber parties. We read stories and give kisses and leave starry night lights on.
Tonight we made a compromise.
Charli: “Mommy!” (from her room)
Me: “What is it?”
Charli: “I need Max!” (her stuffed bunny)
So I bring her Max.
Charli: “Mommy!”
Me: “Whaaaaaaaaaaaat!?”
Charli: “It is scary in here!”
So we conquer a monster or 2 and I switch the bathroom light with the hall light.
Me: “Is that better?”
Charli: “Yeah.”
Charli: “Mommmmy!!”
Me: “OMG. WHAT?” (from the bottom of the stairs)
Charli: “C’mere!”
I walk upstairs.
Charli: “Can I have my hat?”
Me: “Your hat?”
Charli: “My Dora hat.” (pointing)
Me: “Will you go to sleep?”
Charli: “Mmmhm.” (nodding)
Me: “Alright. You can have it.”
Charli: “Thanks mom.”
Me: “Goodnight.”
She kept her promise.
Big. Fat. Heart.
What were you afraid of when you were little?
What was your favorite bedtime story as a kid?
Tags: bedtime, compromise, max and ruby, nightlight, Parenting
TMIThursday’s: Masturbation 101 by Dr. Dumbass
Mar 31, 2010 Current Events, DUH, Masturbate-able, Out of Wicked's Mouth, Random, Sex, TMI Thursday's, Wicked Wisdoms
Welcome to yet another TMIT! Miss Lilu is the founder of the awesome awfulness … so go show her and all of the other TMIT contributors some pukeinyourmouth trainwreckyoucantturnaway love.
This was a blog that I wrote awhile back as a feature for “Cosmo Can Kiss My Ass.” Miss Chrissa had some regular posts there that made fun of the bullshit articles in magazines such as Cosmopolitan and Elle and Seventeen.
The one I “reviewed” was the “12 Secrets of Sensational Solo Sex” the text in italic are my “thoughts” on each of the bullet points provided. Feel free to share your thoughts as well. 
TMIT? In some ways yes … in other ways … maybe. I just found it and got a laugh out of it, so I hope that you do to.
*AHEM*
“Am I doing this right?” When it comes to sex, it’s the most asked question of all time, and masturbation is no exception.
Relax.
The key to your enjoyment is your ability to relax and stay in the moment, so check your anxieties or frustrations at the door. Stop thinking about work, the kids or the dirty laundry. Take a warm bath or get a massage beforehand.
Um. The reason I DO masturbate is to relieve frustration. Isn’t that part of the magic? To be able to flick the bean and walk away from the session care free??? And, if someone is giving me a pre-Oface massage … they better be giving my vagina one as well. K?
(Or is it just me?)
Turn yourself on.
Think about what things have turned you on in the past and focus on them now to jump-start your arousal. Fantasize about a steamy sexual encounter, replay a scene from a sexy movie or imagine yourself naked with your favorite celebrity. If you enjoy additional stimulation, put on some sexy music or read some erotica.
Why the fuck do I want to think about anything? Does there have to be so much planning involved? It sounds to me like someone’s marriage.
“Honey, let’s fuck tomorrow ’round 6pm, okay?”
Fuck that. I want my time to be on the fly. Maybe in the shower, maybe in traffic. Maybe in front of my laptop watching some free amateur porn.
*don’t judge me*
Have a look.
If you’ve never really looked at your genitals before, take out a mirror and hold it with one hand while you use the other hand to locate the parts of your genitalia. Look for the clitoris under its protective hood at the top of your vulva; identify your labia, vagina and anus. It might help to have an anatomical diagram next to you if you’re having trouble figuring out what’s what.
How is a visit to the OBGYN a turn on? I know where my shit is located. Do I look like a fucking idiot?
And a DIAGRAM to figure out what is what????? Seriously. Do I need to humor this with a comment?
Let your fingers do the walking.
Use your fingertips to explore all the parts of your genital anatomy. Notice the smoothness of the labia folds, and the hardness of the clitoris. Peel back the clitoral hood and touch the glans so you are familiar with its sensitivity. Insert a finger into your vagina and notice the different textures as it moves in slightly. As you explore, pay attention to the parts of your vulva that feel especially good when stimulated.
I am lost. Are we masturbating, or are we having anatomy 101?
Play with yourself.
Put the mirror down, lie on your back and touch yourself all over. Begin by running your hands all over your skin, lingering on the spots that feel particularly sensitive — including the breasts and the sides of your thighs. Try a variety of movements on your labia and clitoris, pulling, pinching and rubbing along the smooth skin. Focus on the clitoris, paying attention to any erotic sensations that certain moves generate. Some women like to use two fingers to rub over the clitoral hood in a circular motion; others place a fingertip on either side of the clitoris and move from side to side.
Did a man write this? No seriously. I am cracking the hell up right now. “lie on your back and touch yourself all over”….
crackup
How about this. Ladies, lets do the opposite. Lets stand straight up, and NOT touch ourselves. See if by some sort of mental telepathy, we are able to climax by just thinking about it.
Feel the buzz. So a man DID write this. *Yawn* I am bored. Add your Kegels. Is this necessary? I don’t know about you all… but when I get going, this is something I (again) don’t have to think about, or read about to know. You wanna cum—you move with the feeling. Plain and simple. Mix it up. Maybe I am just a masturbation veteran. But…. DUH! Breathe deeply. O.M.G. Really? Ladies, make sure you are breathing. This is very important. You might DIE. Stay with it. GIMME AN O! STAY WITH IT LADIES!!! YOU CAN DO IT!!!
Turn your vibrator on and explore in much the same way that you did with your hands. Try running the toy over different parts of your body, including your genitals, but saving your clit for last. Lightly place the tip of the vibrator on your clitoral hood. If the vibration is too intense, place a washcloth or piece of clothing between your body and the toy.
Slowly rock your hips back and forth, contracting your PC muscles (what you squeeze when you want to stop a stream of urine) in time to the motion.
Vary the speed on your vibrator or apply pressure to get a stronger vibration on your clitoris. If you’re moving the toy around, try changing the direction of the motion. As your arousal builds, try stopping and starting the vibration. By “teasing” your clit you coax it along — when you withhold the stimulation, your body jumps back after it when it’s resumed. If you have a hard time getting over the top, stop the toy for longer periods and relax your muscles. Try using the vibrator in a different position — squeeze it between your legs or lie on top of it.
Resist the urge to hold your breath; instead, take long, deep breaths. With practice, you can coordinate the rhythm of your breathing to your mounting arousal. When you feel yourself close to orgasm, inhale, then time your exhale with the onset of the orgasm, and you’ll feel the sexual contraction flow through your body to your toes.
One of the frustrating and magical things about orgasm is that it can feel very elusive up until you’re actually seconds away from having one. Once you hit the point of no return, your orgasm will sweep over you in a matter of seconds, and your body will be wracked by several contractions.
*rolls eyes*
Go for multiples.
Vibrators are tireless — they can keep going and going long after hands or penises tire out. After your first orgasm, remove the vibrator if your clit is too sensitive, but return after a few seconds to try for another orgasm. You might be surprised at how easy it is to go for more than one, or two, or three…
This actually is accurate information. I am shocked.
Sir, wherever you are… you get a cookie! After 11 attempts, you finally get one right!
Try and try again.
Don’t worry if you don’t make it on your first go-round. Just pick up the toy again later and give it another try. Sometimes it can take several weeks before your body becomes accustomed to the stimulation. Try to learn from each attempt, paying close attention to which types of stimulation feel best and building on those.
If you are unable to make it the first round, there is something wrong… ESPECIALLY using a vibrator.
I would suggest, if you are having issues getting off… you may need to get some help. Call me! I am always free to give hands on demonstrations.
*winkwink*
Do you put this much thought into masturbation?
Do you name your vibrator? What is its name?
Tags: article, cosmo, elle, masturbation, seventeen magazine, solo sex, tmithursday
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
TMIThursday: What? You Didn’t Get The *gag* Memo?
Mar 10, 2010 TMI Thursday's, Yum... or Lack There Of.
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.
So you all should know by now that I was a Semen (heh) in the Navy in my past life. Several of my TMIT stories have come from that chapter in my life … this one is by far the most gut wrenching for me. (Yes even more than the puke-in-the-tartar event)
As a kid, we were milk drinkers. With every meal. I could have been a spokesperson for a GD “Got Milk” commercial. No joke.
So, as you can imagine, the milk with every meal tradition carried into my young adulthood.
Picture this:
Me and my cute little Wickedness walking into the galley one morning to get my breakfast. I had a routine, as we all kinda did being as it was like motherfucking groundhog day when we were on deployment. Toast and peanut butter … and a tall glass of milk. <-- breakfast of champs right there ladies and gents.
Anyway, as you can imagine ... 45 days consecutively out to sea meant that our supply deliveries were few and far in between.
What does that mean? Perishables run out first.
Ask me if that is something that I took into consideration? Go ahead. I will wait.
.
.
.
No. I did not take that into consideration. As far as I was concerned, we, like the ocean surrounding us had a plethora of dairy products at our disposal.
Boy was I mistaken.
So. On this fateful morning, I innocently go about my business.
Toast? Check.
Peanut butter? Check.
Tall glass of milk? Check.
So I sit down, with my book and proceed to enjoy my breakfast. The buzz in the galley is deafening, and the day in the life of a deployed aircraft carrier began all over again ... just like the day before.
Only this day, when I went to wash my toast down with my milk, I was in for a fucking awful surprise.
UHT Milk. Oh what? You aren't in the know? Yeah. Neither was I.
Definition:
UHT or ultra heat treated milk is a form of milk that has been heated to a temperature of at least 135ºC in order to kill off any harmful micro-organisms (e.g. harmful bacteria) which may be present in the milk. The milk is then packaged into sterile containers.
All milk that is available for sale to consumers through supermarkets and milkmen must be pasteurized i.e. heated to 71.7ºC in order to make it safe for consumers and improve its shelf life. However UHT milks have a longer shelf life as a result of the higher temperatures to which they are heated and the packaging used to store them.
What this means is that it has a shelf life unopened for 6-9 months. This is effective for military use where supplies and refrigeration are limited. What it ALSO means is that it tastes like what I would imagine to be what ass would taste like after running 5 miles in 100 degree heat in spandex.
Yep. I blindly took this 5 mile sweaty spandex ass liquid to the face. And then I puked. Immediately. All over myself, and the person at the table in front of me.
I also did not drink milk for about 2 years after that. I just could not take the risk of having that amount of foul in my mouth ever again.
Because it was that fucking gross.
Thank you U.S. Navy for giving me the memo about the milk change. Thanks a fucking lot.
Got a TMIT? Email me at wickedcourtni@gmail.com
Tags: dairy products, peanut butter, uht milk, us navy
TMIThursday: Of COURSE You Are Hot.
Mar 3, 2010 Completely Hypothetical and Generally Specific, TMI Thursday's, Yum... or Lack There Of.
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.
This post comes from an anonymous source. I understand why. I wouldn’t want the world to know this about me either. Not because it is the grossest thing ever … but because it is quite possibly the most mortifying thing ever.
Mad props. Maaaaaaaad props and a Ha Ha Ha!
And with that …
So I knew that there was something wrong. I tried the over-the-counter meds. No dice. So I call my local female doc. Yes boys, if you are easily grossed out … you might wanna click the red X in the upper right hand corner.
Pause…
As I was saying.
So the femdoc diagnoses me. It requires some antibiotics. Fuuuuuuuck. So she does me a solid and calls in the prescription. (Thanks for cutting my admission of why I need this antibiotic to the public in half by eliminating the drop off)
The next morning, I shoot over to my local pharmacy all ballcapped the hell up looking scruff-o-matic. No one should know my identity. No one should remember the face of me with this temporary vagina cold. *coughcough*
FORGET MY FACE WORLD! FORGET IT!
I go and whisper my info to the cashier.
Me: “ihaveaprescriptiontopickupforanonymousplease”
Cashier: “WHAT WAS YOUR NAME?!”
Me: “aprescriptionforanonymous”
Cashier: “A PRESCRIPTION FOR ANONYMOUS?!”
Me: “Gahyes!”
Cashier: “You will need to have a consultation from the pharmacist.”
Me: “I think I am good but thanks.”
Casher: “I cannot give it to you without the consultation.”
Me: “Of course you cant. Fine.”
So I walk to the pharmacist’s window. And I wait. And wait. Annnd waaaaaaaaaait.
Pharmacist: “Anonymous?”
Me: (walking over to the window) “Hi”(omgyouarefuckingsohot) <-- to myself
Pharmacist: (with his ocean blue eyes and his stupid sexy Australian accent.) "Hi Anonymous! For your vagina cold, this is a 5 day antibiotic for you to take vaginally (dies) with the cartridges provided (dies). Please make sure and finish all of the antibiotic vaginally (diiiiiiiiiiiiies) and avoid the use of alcohol while taking the antibiotic. (fuck because I really need a drink right now.)"
Me: (mortified has a picture of me next to it in the dictionary.) "Thank you."
I swear to God he winked at me.
There goes probably the one good catch left in the world. I am going to die alone with my cats and my vagina cartridges.
There you have it folks. Mortification defined. Show my anonymous TMITer some love. She needs it.
If you could choose how you were going to die, what would you choose your death to be?
If you could hear what someone is thinking for a day, who would you choose?
Tags: obgyn, pharmacy, tmithursday, vagina
TMIThursday: A Hole Surprise
Feb 24, 2010 Sex, TMI Thursday's, love, pillow talk
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.
Do it.
Speaking of doing it … Ms. DC Princess has the TMIT floor today. She is my blog partner in crime. If you read me, then you need to read her blog as well as her regular editorial on relationships.
Don’t make me cut you.
Who doesn’t like to be woken up by the soft touch of your man’s hand on your boobs? Or ya know, when spooning turns into forking when you’re in that beautiful state between being asleep and being awake?
I kind of love that.
You know what’s better?
Waking up as you’re about to cum. Best feeling EVER.
The Boy and I like to sleep naked on the nights when we think we’re going to get a little frisky after we’ve slept a little and wake up for a surprise attack initiated by either of us.
Usually…this isn’t a problem. If spooning leads to forking, there is usually some feeling around involved so he doesn’t go near the “UHOH” place but we’ve had some pretty nice wake up calls in the last 5 months.
Then…
A little slip-up.
I’m pretty sure we were both sleeping for 90 percent of the following events:
We were spooning and I could feel that he was about to sleep-attack me and I let myself relax more. The next thing I remember is thinking “Ow…” as I tried to tell him that HE NEEDED TO MOVE HIS PENIS. “Ow…baby, not there…OK…no…”
I don’t think I said it loud enough and there was a little bit more prodding before we both got conscious enough to fix the problem, and ya know, bang it out. And it was gooooood.
A couple of hours later, when we WERE awake, the Boy told me that he was having a dream where it was our first time and I was trying to get away from him while consciously thinking: “Hmm…she’s drier than usual.”
So yeah. THAT happened.
I’m just glad this incident didn’t coincide with my NOTBUTTSEKSRELATED that I got in the first month of our relationship…
Could you imagine the theories?
Still…late night sneak attacks are my favorite for sure. Just…NOT IN THE BUTT.
There you have it folks. Feel free to email me at wickedcourtni@gmail.com with your guest TMIT postings. You don’t have to be a blogger or identified in the post. I am looking for any and all TMIT postings.
Carry on.
Tags: buttsecks, dc princess, live it love it, pqnation, tmithursday
TMIThursday: Daaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaad!
Feb 17, 2010 Family, TMI Thursday's
Welcome to TMIThursday! Give it up to Lilu for making all of the throwing up in our mouths on a weekly basis possible. DO IT.
So I am tired and I forgot to ask someone to guest post for this week. (read: please email your guest TMIT posts with pics if you are picky to wickedcourtni@gmail.com) So this is going to be short and disturbing.
(For me anyway.)
Anyway … if you are under a rock or new to my life … you may not know that my book was just picked up by a publishing company a week or so ago. I am pretty sure I am fucking ecstatic about it. I may or may not do a dance by myself when I think about it.
It may or may not be the best God Damned thing that has happened in my life … as far as professional accomplishments go.
So my mom is on my FB. My parents are the raddest, most open minded hippie parents a girl could ask for. When she read the post about it (yeah I know I am a horrible daughter for not calling them to tell them.) she freaked out and told my dad and whomever else she came across I am sure. …
…. and she calls me ….
Mom: “Tell me about this publishing deal!”
Me: *insert Charlie Brown teacher voice of me telling her*
Dad: “Well you know I am going to have to read it, right?”
Mom: *giggling*
Me: “Errr…”
Dad: “You are my daughter! I have to read it! You are a published author!”
Mom: *dying laughing*
Me: “Dad.”
Dad: “I will read it at work tomorrow!’
Me: “I really don’t think that is a good idea.”
Dad: “What is the worst that could happen? I get a woody and am unable to get up from my desk!?”
Me: “DAD!!!!!!!!”
Mom: *snort*
Dad: “I am reading your work. Period.”
Me: “Gah. Finnnnnnneeeeeeeee. I just do not need to hear about your wood.”
Dad: “Well if you don’t hear about it … how will you know what I thought?”
Me: “What do you judge a book by your boner?! FUCKIDONTWANTTOTALKABOUTTHIS!”
Dad: “Maybe I do.”
Me: “Then I dont care what you think. Keep it to yourself.”
Fast forward to me telling D of the mortification involving my dad’s wood…
D: *lauging* “Well you do know that there was wood involved in creating you.”
Me: “FUCKING SERIOUSLY?!?!?!”
D: *laughing harder* “I am just saying.”
Me: *covering my ears* “LALALALALALALALALALALA”
The end. I am officially damaged.
Would you rather forget who you were or who everyone else was?
Would you rather kiss a jellyfish or step on a crab?
TMIThursday: Barfy Valentines Day, Honey!
Feb 10, 2010 Relationships, Sex, TMI Thursday's, Yum... or Lack There Of., love
Hello my gluttons for TMIThursday punishment!
As always — check out Ms. Lilu for making this recurring day of nastyness that we all kind-of look forward to possible. She rocks, in case you didn’t know.
This TMIT posting comes from Ms. Squishy over at squishisms.com. She is not only one of my besties, but a kick ass blogger. You should read her because she exudes awesomeness.
It’s been 361 days since it happened. I had plans for a girls night with the Teridactyl. This, of course, meant Irish had to find something to do. Luckily for him a friend of ours got laid off that day. Or maybe it was the day he found a new job? I don’t really remember, and it’s moot. The point is – I went out with my girl and our coworkers, and Irish went out with the boys.
It was our first night out without each other since we started dating, a little over eight months. My night started with happy hour – to celebrate 30 Days of NonSmoking with a CoWorker who had quit smoking the same day I did. (Tho, he didn’t really quit, just quit where I could see him – but I didn’t find that out til later.) My drinking began at 4 PM on the dot.
At 11 I was ready for karaoke. It. Was. Time. I could handle anything, including that smoke-filled dive bar full of temptations I’d sworn off – cigarettes being nowhere near the top. And I thought it was time to bring the groups together. Irish’s boys and my crew could all meet at Rags.
But when I called, Irish slurred that he was heading home. He was “shhhhhleeeeeeeeeepy.”
/shrug
But… the longer we drove, and it’s at least a half hour from South Austin, where we were, to North Austin, where my car was, the more tired I grew. My buzz was wearing off and I wanted out of my clothes and into a warm comfy bed…and preferably wakeup wellsexed to boot.
SO I skipped karaoke and came home. Before midnight on a Friday night.
CanISayHowAwesomeItIsToNotHaveToStayOutAllNightToGetLaid?
But when I got home, all the lights were off. This was before the dogs or the roommate, so the house was CREEPYQuiet. Irish was passed the hell out. Didn’t even twitch when I came in and turned on the bedside light. And he was on his stomach, which is odd for him. I undressed, kissed his shoulder, resigned myself to sexlessness, contemplated masturbation, rejected it, climbed into bed and went to sleep…
For all of a few hours… and then something woke me roud about 4 AM.
Quick shallow breathing.
Quiet grunts.
And right as I opened my mouth to alert Irish to the fact that there was someone in the apartment, something hit the back of my head. Something warm and something that DID NOT smell so good.
Yeah. My fiance vomited IN MY HAIR. IN HIS SLEEP.
On Valentine’s Day.
Our FIRST Valentine’s Day.
I rinsed my hair off quietly, made sure he was on his side so he didn’t die…and went to the couch.
And then I knew what love is…
Yep.
(To be fair: (And because he says I have to include it) He did make me steak and cheddar potatoes for dinner. AND AN ICE CREAM CAKE. While Hungover. <3)
Would you rather…
* Be handcuffed to a bed, naked, in the middle of a highway?
* Have pictures of you being handcuffed to a bed, naked, on the Internet?
Tags: karaoke, love, tmit, tmithursday, valentines day
TMIThursday: A Little Extra SAUCE w/ Her French … Kiss.
Jan 27, 2010 Completely Hypothetical and Generally Specific, TMI Thursday's, Yum... or Lack There Of., bitch
Hello my gluttons for TMIThursday punishment!
As always — check out Ms. Lilu for making this recurring day of nastyness that we all kind-of look forward to possible. She rocks, in case you didn’t know.
Today we have a guest TMIT’er. (I am thinking I want to have guest TMIT’s for a few weeks … so if you have a TMIT story to share on my blog … email me @ wickedcourtni@gmail.com) She is a fellow-ess PQNation Blogger … known as “Rise Again” on our site … but to me she is my Alanaface.
I love her. And her blogs. When she gets around to gracing us with her blogpresence anyway. 
Show her some love. She is the bestest. 
—————————————————————————————————————————
I am the Puke Queen.
It doesn’t matter if it’s because I’m pregnant, drinking, eating something off the Chinese buffet or trying to cough back up the overload of carbs I ate for lunch, I puke. Anytime, anywhere, and the amazing thing is that it embarrasses me to NO end to throw up in front of other people.
It’s like a joke now to anyone who knows me.
Unfortunately, sometimes that shit happens at a really inopportune time, like, say, a first date. I mean, hypothetically.
This story is so typical, it’s ridonculous.
J and I started chatting online in September of 2008. Conflicting schedules prevented a real meet and greet until almost November, but when we finally found a day I suggested karaoke.
Now, don’t get it twisted. I can sing. It seems, however, that being able to sing doesn’t necessarily translate well to being able to sing karaoke on a first date. When you’re drunk. Also, nervous.
Solution to all life problems?
Wait for it…
Alcohol!
(I see you are paying attention. Good, we won’t have to go over this later.)
We started at a sports bar, general first date chit chat with lots of beer (read: cider. read: not SMRT) and some pool. I was nervous like Lady Gaga in a room of asexual androids. My first real date since separating from my husband.
It kind of felt dirty.
By the time we got to the karaoke bar, I was pretty lit, but J said he’d never had a Jagerbomb and I’m just so fuckin’ sorry but that’s like, a travesty.
What a waste! That shit didn’t even come in two separate glasses, but was premixed in a plasticmuthafuckincup.
Followed by another cider.
Do you sense a trend of drinks with too much sugar here?
I sensed it. I sensed it all the way up my sweet little esophagus.
So, I excused myself.
And then I got called to sing.
And then what?
I didn’t have a tooth brush. Or mouth wash. Or any of those nifty little breath strips that he always carries around. (Of which I am now VERY aware and use them often in just these types of situations. Well, and before morning sex. I digress.)
What I did have was a dude that I was totally into, who made a move, like, I dunno, two hours ago, sitting next to me in the booth. He RODE THE SCHOOLBUS WITH ME FOR FUCK’S SAKE! What guy will do that anymore?!
So what did I do?
Yeah, go ahead and puke in your mouth a little…it’s all the rage.
I let him stick his tongue so far down my throat it’s a wonder I didn’t lay it all out on the table right there.
And I don’t care. Yeah, I let him kiss me with puke mouth. Say somethin’, bitch.
There you have it. Feel free to share your own related or completely NON related TMIT’s.
Happy Thursday!
Tags: alcohol, french kiss, karaoke, sing
TMIThursday: This Gives Want in one Hand … SHIT in the Other … a Whole New Meaning.
Jan 13, 2010 Completely Hypothetical and Generally Specific, TMI Thursday's, Yum... or Lack There Of.
Happy TMIThursday peeps! If this has become your guilty pleasure, then you know that all you have to do is go visit LiLu and find a list of HOLYFUCKINGLIST of other TMIT’s as awful as mine.
If you haven’t read all of my TMIT posts, click here to catch up on the awesomeness.
Once upon an anal penetration, there lived a girl who loved it in her butt. (You can assume ((heh)) all day that this girl is me, but it really isn’t.) The problem with this girl is that she was a really big whore. And not the kind who gets paid. So really, she was a big anal loving slut-face.
I knew her at a time in my life where I was not fully in touch with allll that wraps into my sexual comfortability. (yes there was a time that I was a closet freak) So when she approached me about something new she wanted to try, I remember being half interested and half mortified.
Her: “I think that I want to try DP.”
Me: “DP? Like DPG?!”
Her: “Noooo Double Penetration.”
Me: “Like in the mouth and in the vag?”
Her: “Been there, done that … got the stain on the tshirt.”
Me: “What other kind of DP is the- ohhhhhhhh. Ack!”
Her: “You need to try anal. It is marvelous.”
Me: “Meh. So, where are you gonna find 2 poor saps to play cock swords?”
Her: “I don’t need 2.”
Me: “Toys?”
Her: “We will see.”
Days pass. I pretty much blocked the thought of her being ran into the ground in the form of DP from my mind on purpose. Did I avoid her calls? Yes. But as you can probably guess, she tracked me down to tell of her HoeTales.
Her: “Mission Accomplished.”
Me: “Oh Jesus. What happened?!”
Her: “Well… it didn’t turn out the way I hoped.”
Me: “Okay…”
So she goes into this story of how she calls up one of her regular booty calls. She propositions him in the most porn starry way ever imaginable and he practically runs over. Several beers and a Costco tub of lube later … he is balls deep in the snatch and elbow deep in the anus.
Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeech.
Me: “He fucking fisted your asshole?! How in the–?!”
Her: “Don’t ask.”
Me: “I didnt fucking ask for a n y of this.”
She continues. Telling me of dirty talk and orgasms. She begins describing to me how she was preparing for the big “O”. You know, the one that is the most uncontrollable ever … ?!
Yeah that one.
Well, as her big “O” comes … so does another big thing. Do you even want to guess?
Yeeeeeeah you do.
The big thing was a poo poo present. All up his handslashwristslasharm. She looked back, and there this poor asshole ((heh)) was, frozen … staring at his good arm. Covered in her shit. I can only imagine how fucking nasty it smelled … let alone how it looked. Apparently he felt it when it happened, pulled out … saw that one hand was … browner than the other … and freaked the fuck out.
I can’t say that I blame him. Betcha that was the last time he ever put his fist inside someones ass. Or offered it either …
((heh))
Ass … er I mean AS usual … feel free to share you own TMIT’s either related to or completely unrelated to this story. You know I am a sucker for a good TMIT.
