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
Honest Tuesday’s: Get Back on Track, Fattie!
Feb 15, 2010 Current Events, Honest Tuesday's, Out with the Old Wicked in with the New Wicked, The Tarably Wicked Show, Thoughts and Perceptions, Yum... or Lack There Of.
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.
Sooooooooo… yeah. I have been completely off of my game diet-wise. an umpteen amount of Cheeseburgers, ice cream, chocolate … pizza … carbbbbbbbbbbbbbsssssssssssssss …
Sooooooooo… yeah. I haven’t worked out. Not a lick.
The deal is, I have maintained the weight loss that I have accomplished and I am proud as hell of myself about it. However, losing it doesn’t mean that it will stay off. It also doesn’t mean that just by losing weight that I am where I want to be with my body. I want tone arms and a somewhat flat tummy. I want to wear tank tops that don’t show off boobmeetsthearm fat.
I was on point for months. Then came the holiday’s.
It seemed to be the hardest when I started this 37 pound weight loss journey. Now I am finding it harder to restart. Especially knowing exactly how damn close I am to being where I want to be.
Saying it out loud is always the best thing for me. I am off track. So is my Tarable. And we (no pun intended) feed off of each other. So when she is focused … so am I. When I am off … so is she.
So here we are, 3 months-ish until summer. 3 months-ish until our Wine Country trip. 3 months-ish until boats
and bathing suits and sleeveless and laying out and mini skirts and shorts. 3 months. I am 15 pounds from it. that is only 5 pounds a month. 5 pounds and working out every single day. Not just for the weight part … but I know I will feel better every day. Working out always ties everything together.
Home, work and health.
So. I said it out loud. We are starting over, just as focused as we were almost a year ago at the beginning of the journey. It is almost as if we have come full circle. Only now it is finishing what we started … with almost the entire race behind us.
I am pretty stoked about that fact.
What do you need to be honest about this week?
Would you rather always get first dibs or the last laugh?
Would you rather eat a handful of hair or lick three public telephones?
Tags: diet, exercize, focus, goals, health, south beach, weight loss, work out
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
YGWM & Friday Eye Candy
Feb 4, 2010 All Things Charli, Completely Hypothetical and Generally Specific, DUH, Friday Eye Candy, P.O.E. Biz, Random, Ranteriffic, Yum... or Lack There Of.
Hello and welcome. Happy motherfucking FRIDAY to you all!
Blind yet? Heh.
Alright. Let’s get on with the open lettering.
Dear IDIOTS,
Idiot #1: You are so fucking stupid. I feel sorry for your kids who have to grow up in an idiot filled environment. Because of you, there is now a clan of idiots roaming the state of Oregon freely and idiotically.
Idiot #2: You are totally unaware of the level of idiot you possess. To have to be near you on a regular basis is fucking paaaaaaaaaaaaaaaainful.
Idiot #3: Really?! Lies? All of them? No one feels sorry for you anymore. In fact, it is the opposite. What happens after, is going to be well deserved for all of the lying.
——————————————————————————————————————–
Dear Everyone,
I don’t give a fuck about the following:
1) The Olympics
2) Your issues.
3) Lost
4) Twilight
5) Avatar
——————————————————————————————————————–
Dear Sickness in my Throat and Sinuses and Ears and Bodyaches,
FUCK THE FUCK OFF. I am not submitting to your nastiness. I refuse. GET OUT OF MY AREA.
——————————————————————————————————————–
Dear Self,
You need to stop letting your own doubt prevent you from success. What are you so god damned scared of? What do you have to lose? Just ASK for it. The very worst that can happen is that the answer is no.
Stop giving yourself roadblocks. It is unnecessary stress that you do not need.
——————————————————————————————————————–
Dear Charli,
Please leave me to sleep alone for like 3 nights a week. That is all I am asking. I love you to death but seriously?! I would like some sleep without you in my personal space. I am over your feet in my back. I am over your face in my face. You are a kicker and a bed hog and I would really like a night of sleep in peace.
I am | | <--- this close to begging for it.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Writers Block,
Seriously? Get the fuck out of my life. I have the ability to write an entire manuscript of poetry and another SC, which is what everyone is waiting for ... but when it comes down to actually putting content on paper, you are there ... COCKBLOCKING my creativity.
FUCK YOU. FUCK OFF AND DIE.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear You,
Blah. Why is it that half the time I hate you and the other half I dont?
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Tarable,
I am glad you are being an adult. I am proud of you and I love you and I am here for you always.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Sunshine,
I miss you. Can we catsup soon?
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Inner Fat Girl,
If I could reach inside of myself and stab you to death I would. You are counterproductive to my goals.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
And now for some Friday Eye Candy... Thanks to Cass's recommendation I present Mr. Taye Diggs!
Annnnnd … Ms. Cameron Diaz
There you have it folks. You know the drill … purge your weeks in open letter form, so you can go and thoroughly enjoy your weekend!
Tags: cameron diaz, Friday Eye Candy, idiot, open letter, taye diggs
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
An Award annnnnnnnnd A LMFAO Conversation, Etc.
Jan 17, 2010 Etc., Family, Friendship, Masturbate-able, Out of Wicked's Mouth, Random, Relationships, Sex, The Tarably Wicked Show, This Thing Called Marriage., Yum... or Lack There Of.
Happy Monday Individuals!
I was given a really kick ass award from a new (to me) bloggerslashreader. You should add him to your readers because he is pretty awesome and I quite enjoy his blogs. I really have to give it up to Lilu as well for making the connection between us via TMIT’s every week. I don’t think that she is aware of the impact she has on connecting us bloggers on the interwebs.
The Award is the “Happy 101 Award” and the rules are as follows:
I have to list ten things that make me happy and I have to do one of them today. Then I have to pass the award on to ten other bloggers who I think are deserving. Now, ten things that make me happy:
(These things are in no particular order and I have bolded the ones I have done today.)
1. Masturbating. I could be having an unlimited amount of sex every single day of my life, but I still enjoy a good self-love session. Sometimes, I masturbate AFTER sex. Not because I didn’t get off … but because I fucking feel like it.
2. Blogging. Even if my blog is crap and I don’t have time to put thought into what it is for the day. Even if I don’t publish it … I must blog every single day.
3. Sex. Duh.
4. My ladies make me happy. Tarable, Rach, Squishy, Carol, Cass, Q, Tori, JonnaBonnana, Kim(s), Lirra, Sheesha, Leslie, Chrissie, Angie, Rosie, Chrissa … fuck I know I am forgetting a bitch or 2 but I know you will forgive me.
5. Accomplishing my goals. To know that I set something for myself and then push to make it happen … the best feeling ever.
6. My husband and my kids make me happy.
7. Sleeping in.
8. Reading a good book. Uninterrupted.
9. Making someone else laugh makes me happy.
10. Food makes me happy.
*BONUS*
11. A sexy fucking man makes me happy. Get naked and let me see the GOODS!
12. Shopping. Specifically bargain shopping. New stuff makes me happy.
I would like to recognize the following bloggers and give them the Happy 101 award. Because each of them make me happy every single day when I read their thoughts.
Squish @ Squishisms: Her view of the world makes me happy. Even when she is stabby. Actually MOSTLY when she is stabby.
Jaime @ Life Under Construction: She is hilarious to me. I enjoy her view of life.
MissTricky @ What Happens After: She is one of my oldest and dearest “internet friends”. Bes’ believe that we will be old bitties together one day. Face to Face styles.
Ms. Bethany @ Bethany’s World: She is who she is and says what she thinks in the most diplomatic way I have ever seen.
EroticaBitch @ Verbal Assassin: She is the most kick-assiest Army wife I have ever known.
Moog @ Mental Poo: He is just fucking hilar. Period.
Tori @ Dramatic Sigh: I don’t even have words for her fucking blogs sometimes.
Bradley @ A Jersey Kid: He used to be on a different blog which went on hiatus but is back ( I hope ) just in a different location. I missed him. He tops my favorite blog list ever in the history of blog lists.
Rosie @ Neurotic Ramblings: She is crazy as fuck but I love her. And when I say crazy, I mean it in the most complimentary way possible.
And last but definitely not least …
P.Q. @ DC Princess: She is my numbah1. She within her own crazy self makes me happy.
Now for the LMFAO Conversation between myself and Tarable.
Friday night has been decided as our Girls Night. We are going to start doing stuff together after work … because we deserve it and because we want to. Not necessarily just going to the bar or anything … but having dinner at new restaurants or seeing movies … or … well … going to the bar. Heh.
This last Friday we got pierced. She got her nose, and I got my cartilage in my ear done. Then we went and got some mini box wines and drove around blasting our favorite music.
When we got home, we picked a movie … “Funny People” and while drinking wine and watching it, we decided that we were hungry.
Me: “I want just ONE cheeseburger.”
Tarable: “Courtni! No!”
Me: “Fine.”
Tarable: “How would we get there anyway.”
Me: “Are you already hammered?”
Tarable: “Nooo ooooo…”
Me: “So what you are saying is …”
Tarable: “I am saying that I am off one. And I am going to tell the bitch in the drive thru that. Like, I want 3 cheeseburgers no onion I am off one.”
Me: “Mission accepted.”
So we are on our way to the land of the cheeseburger. I am admittedly waaaaaaaay more buzzed than I originally thought. The level of buzzed where every god damned thing is hilar.
We pull into the drivethru.
DtB: “Welcome to the land of the cheeseburger, may I take your order?”
Tarable (to me): “What was I supposed to say again?”
Me: “Can I have 4 cheeseburgers, no onions I am off one.”
Tarable (to DtB): “Can I have 4 cheesburgers no onioniamoffone.”
DtB: “What was that?”
Tarable: “4 cheeseburgers, no onionIamoffone.”
DtB: (Silence)
Me: Motherfucking DYING laughing.
Tarable: “FOUUUUUUUR CHEEEEEEEEEESEBURGERRRRRRRRRRRSSS, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO ONION I.AM.OFF.ONE.”
At this point, I am fucking crying laughing because Tarable was mad at this DtB’s lack of understanding of her SLURRED ass statement of being off one. She probably had ZERO clue as to what “off one” really meant.
We pull up to the window.
Tarable: “Hi. Sorry. I am just off one.”
DtB didn’t laugh.
Me: “OMG I AM GOING TO PEE MY PANTS!”
Tarable: “Courtni!”
Me: (I literally could not look at her. I had my back to her and was all up IN the window.) “I cant helllllllllllp it!”
Tarable: “I am sorry. SHE is off one too.”
We pull up to the NEXT window.
Tarable: “You need to get it together. They are going to spit in our cheeseburgers.”
Me: “I cant help it.”
Tarable: “They might even deny us the cheeseburgers all together! One time I was kicked out of a drivethru for cursing too much!”
Me: “SNORT”
Tarable: “I am not kidding!”
The window opens. It is the SAME fucking lady.
Tarable: “Oh! It is YOU again! Maybe we should have stayed at the other window … no!?”
DtB didn’t laugh.
Me: “OhhhhhhhhhhmyfuckingGODrightnow!”
Tarable: (to the DtB) “Thanks for the cheeseburgers, you were a PEACH.”
So we pull away.
Me: (finally pulling it together) “I cannot believe that you had the audacity to fucking get mad at this fucking lady. This is how you sounded. TWICE “Can I get 4 cheeseburgers, no onionIamoffone.” and then when she was confused, you spoke to her like she was slow … like it was HER fault.”
Tarable: “Well! Whatever! HAHAHAHA!”
Me: “I am totally blogging about this.”
The end. I love us. We are awesome. Like, e = MC AWESOME.
What 10 things make YOU happy today!?
Tags: blogawards, cheeseburger, tarable, that one fast food place, the pursuit of happiness
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.
TMIThursday: Eye Will Try Anything … Once.
Dec 17, 2009 Masturbate-able, TMI Thursday's, This Thing Called Marriage., Wicked & D Quotables, Yum... or Lack There Of., love, pillow talk
Welcome to TMIThursday!
It is a place where what I write may or may not make you throw up in your mouth, cringe and laugh all at the same time. Make sure to check out Ms. Lilu’s blog and her list of TMIT’s for the week. Word?!
I am going to forewarn you. This blog is one that some of you probably NEVER want to read about me. So you have the option to click the red X in the top right hand corner right now. If you continue, I don’t want to hear it. K? K.
(also some of you may not be surprised in the least. Just saying.)
This conversation comes after many many many many many conversations prior to it where a certain someone would beg me to let him do it and I would vehemently shoot down his dreams of doing it over and over and over and over and over again. With me?
*ahem*
D: “You should let me do it. Just once.”
Me: “NO! I have no desire! None!”
D: “Puhleeeeeeeese!!!!!!!! Just like with food, you need to try everything at least once!”
Me: “No.”
D: “C’mon. You know you wanna try it.”
Me: “No.”
D: “Fine I am just gonna do it without your permission. Then what will you do?”
Me: “Divorce you. But I would punch you in your junk first.”
D: “You won’t.”
Me: “YOU wont.”
Hours later… we are doing the do. Makin’ babies or some corny way to say “fucking”. I had completely forgotten about the previous conversation. Ask me if D did. Of course he didn’t.
So there we are, midbone when he whispers “I wanna cum in your mouth.” Ask me if I let him. Of course I did.
Or so I thought that is what I was doing. Before I knew it, this son of a bitch was busting. All over my face. Not just in my FACE but in my EYE as well. My open, virgin, unexpecting EYE! At first he stood there, all smirky face like he just conquered this mission. Until I was screaming about my fucking EYE burning from having a load sprayed in it. Ask me if he felt bad. Of COURSE he did! He was all in my business talking about “OMGAREYOUOKAY?!” “Can I help?” “Do you need some ice?”
Do. I. Need. Some. ICE?! I shot up from the bathroom sink, my one EYE all red and irritated from the little tadpoles that were rocket launched into it … the other EYE all red from the rage I felt in the pit of my stomach. “What I need from you … D … IS TO NOT SURPRISE MY EYE WITH A CUMSHOT!”
D: “I didn’t do it on purpose.”
Me: “Get out of my face right now.”
Hours later …
D: “I don’t think I liked cumming on your face. It felt kinda dirty.”
Me: “Oh you mean the suckercumshot?!”
D: “I told you I was sorry.”
Me: “Maybe I will surprise cum in YOUR eye next time. See how you like it.”
D: “Heh.”
Me: “GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”
I may have been psychologically damaged from the event, but my EYE lived happily ever after.
Have you ever been unpleasantly surprised in the bedroom?
Pillow Talk — 4
Oct 7, 2009 This Thing Called Marriage., Wicked & D Quotables, Yum... or Lack There Of., pillow talk
Me: “Ellen page sounds like a rock star name.”
D “Yeah it does. i was gonna say that or a
old white lady name.”
Me: “An old white lady porn name?”
D “Why is it always about the porn with you? I was thinking about old white lady actress names and here you go with the porn.”
Me: “Like you never think about porn.”
D: “This isn’t about me. Old white lady names: Meryl Streep. Janice Dickenson, Jane Fonda.”
Me: “All very well could have been porn names.”
D: “You are wrong and you know it.”
Me: “Whatever I am right in my calling out of the old white lady porn names.”
Long Long Lonnnnnnnnnnnnng Pause.
Me rapping: “Playin workout tapes by Fonda! But Fonda aint got a motor in the back of her Honda!”
————————————————————————————————————-
(after hearing a moaning coming from the kitchen.)
Me: “What in the hell are you doing in there?”
D: “Nothing.”
Me: “You are scratching your balls, arent you?”
D: “Maybe.”
Me: “At the same time as making the cookies?”
D: “Maybe.”
Me: “OMG GROSS.”
D: “What? I haven’t opened the package yet.”
Me: “Wash your hands before touching the dough D.”
(insert long silence)
Me: “Omg. Are you still scratching your balls?”
D “It was the last scratch I swear.”
Me: “Er …”
D: “That was the best ball scratching session ever.”
Me: “Uh …”
D: “My balls are still tingling as we speak.”
Me: “Er …”
D: “It feels like a million kittens licking my balls.”
Me: “Wow …”
(insert long pause #2 before D walks out of the kitchen, mixing bowl in hand.)
Me: “D!!”
D: “What!?”
Me: “YOU DIDN’T WASH YOUR HANDS!”
D: “Uh?!”
Me: “GOWASHYOURHANDSTHISINSTANT.”
D: “I wasn’t even really scratching my balls just then. I was kidding!”
Me: “Really?!”
D: “I WASN’T!”
Me: “You are so god damn nasty.”
D: “You are blogging this, aren’t you?”
Me: “Really?!”
Have you ever met a famous person?
Which do you prefer, sunrises or sunsets?
Tags: baking cookies, ball scratcher, hand washing, marriage
Wine-rable Mention.
Oct 5, 2009 DUH, Out of Wicked's Mouth, Out with the Old Wicked in with the New Wicked, Random, Thoughts and Perceptions, Wicked Wisdoms, Yum... or Lack There Of., bitch
I would like to mention that I have grown to enjoy a room temperature glass of red wine when I get home from work. I used to hate red wine. I have always been a die hard Boone’s fan.
I think that now that I have hit the ground running at 30, I should graduate from Boone’s to a proper Merlot or Cabernet. I am talking better than Franzia. Better than that Jug-O-Rossi that you could literally get hammered off of and then want to fight (because that is what Carlos Rossi Wiiiiiiiiine does to a bitch) a bitch by beating the life out of her face with the blunt end of that bottle.
(This has never happened to me or by me.)
(I may or may not have witnessed/drunkenly cheered at it before.)
Who noticed that I said a bitch a bitch back to back? I just like saying “A bitch”.
Like, “don’t make me get gangster on a bitch.”
Or, “Don’t let a bitch come at me crazy.”
Also, “I wish a bitch would.”
“A bitch” is a milder version of “This bitch.”
“This bitch better get off of my ass.”
“This bitch has a lot of nerve.”
My favorite: “I know this bitch did not.”
This = a specific bitch. Meaning, when I say “this bitch” in your general direction … you are most likely THAT bitch.
A = an unidentified amount with no general bitch intended in the statement. Meaning, any bitch will fit.
Bitch.
HAHA. But let a person call me a bitch. I will use the fuck out of the word bitch. But if you think you know me well enough and throw out the word bitch in my direction as a verb/adjective/noun about me? Psh. Pssssssssssh.
Cass, Q, Squish, Tricky and Just A: The joke won’t work if I call you out on it first.
Lastly, I may or may not be buzzed right now. Off of 2 buck chuck. Fine wine bitches. Fine mofo’in wine.
Carry on after answering some randomly awesome questions simply for my pleasure. Heh.
Have you ever had a crush on an animated character?
Have you ever won a prize in a contest?
(I was lying about drinking Boone’s. That never happened since I was 15.)
