So yeah. I don’t turn tables like a DJ or anything like that. (That would be rad if I was though.)

Instead, I turn tables in this blog and ask YOU questions that you get to be honest about. I am not gonna lie. Some might make you feel uncomfortable.

Deal with it.

On that note … Do you or Would you …

…. think that when your significant other is away from you that they are cheating?

…. start off a conversation with “FYI, I only plan on listening to part of your conversation because I think you are fucking boring” if you know that you will ahead of time, to avoid wasting that 10 minutes of your life?

…. stop masturbating when your significant other enters the room?

…. throw temper tantrums as an adult?

…. reveal all of your fantasies, no matter how dirty or socially unaccepted?

…. shelter your kids from everything, some things, or nothing at all?

…. cry, even if you’re only crying because you feel sorry for yourself?

…. always forgive, even if you never forget?

…. avoid confrontation, even if all you want to do is punch a bitch in the mouth?

…. lie to your kids to save their feelings?

…. act as if you like the food, even if you are literally gagging it down with each bite … simply to spare someone’s feelings?

…. suffer complete unhappiness so that your kids are raised in a 2 parent home?

…. consider yourself a true friend, or a fair weather friend?

…. simply wait for someone to shut up so you can begin talking?

…. ever wonder what your life would be like if you took the other path?

Have a WONDERFULLY Honest Tuesday!

I had an interesting weekend. Tarable was kind enough to let us use her truck for the bazillionth time to go and do and get the crap out of the house on Saturday which was an awesome thing to do. (I cannot WAIT to go car shopping pee ess so I can go do what I want when I want to)

D’s awesome uncle came to visit for a couple of days from California. That man is not only an inspiration but one of the most animated people I have ever met. He had me cracking up from the minute he arrived until he left. It had been a few years since we had seen him.

I enjoy seeing others so excited about where I live. I swear I should double as a Seattle tour guide. I get giddy when I get to show someone something cool about my stomping grounds.

I went to a Tupperware party. Yeah. THAT happened.

It was awesome. Tupperware is fucking AWESOME. What in the crap is up with the level of Tupperware Awesomeness? Why was I not aware of it prior to? I mean, I knew. But I didn’t KNOW. Ya know?

So, being that Tupperware and I share a common interest … AWESOMENESS … I have made the decision to host a party. Where it will go from there …? I dunno but I am gonna see if it works out.

Oh and PS I had some bomb goodies at said party.

I also had a JagerBomb. Yeah. THAT happened too.

I suck at Red Bull. Actually, Red Bull sucks. It is soooo not awesome.

I also witnessed the funniest shit while out.

1) Eyefucking. Why do people eyefuck another person when they are obviously in a relationship? And by obvious, I mean standing right next to the person they are eyefucking? I mean really? And by obvious, I may or may not mean behind the back of the person whom the eyefuck-ee is with.

This goes back to me being classified as “The One” when I am in fact not. I don’t know where you are from but that is grounds for an old school hair pulling beat down.

Look. I have eyefucked with the best of them. I have eyefucked WHILE married, and I know for a fact D has too on several occasions. But I am not the one to be all desperate and blatant and try to eyefuck my way past the bitch you are with. No way no how.

I refuse to be the bitch that MoKenStef sings about. Or sang about. <--- Yeah THAT happened just now.

2) When we went to Dick’s for the late night infamous cheeseburger … An out of towner drunkenly stumbled up to where you order.
(A tid-bit of info here in case you don’t know: Dick’s is a walk up cheeseburger joint in WA state. You have 4 different burgers to choose from. Fries and 3 different kinds of shakes. That’s it. No special orders. Nothin.)

The following conversation happened in front of my face.

Drunk Girl: (to strange dorky guy) “I am drunk and from Chicago. Can you tell me what is good here?”
Me: *Snort*
Dorky Guy: “Uhhh… a cheeseburger?!”
Drunk Girl: “Can I try a bite of yours to see if that is what I want to order?”
Me: (to D) “Is this bitch for real right now?”
D: *shaking head*
Drunk Girl: (Not allowing dorky guy to even say no, takes a monster bite of his cheeseburger)
Me: (to D) “Did she really —?”
D: “She sho did.”
Drunk Girl: “I have had better cheeseburgers. That kinda sucked.”

Yeah. THAT happened. That bitch ate 1/3 of this strange guy’s burger and then clowned it.

And that is that.

How was your weekend?

What two things have you done in your life that you are most proud of?
What feeling do you have the most difficulty expressing?

So, without further ado … It is time for some motherfucking open letters.

First, we have a guest letter:

Dear Penis that thinks something happened,

My vagina is wondering what you THINK you did, because we are confused and feeling untouched and disappointed. We have decide mutually, that you are fired.

sincerely, HM

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Dear You,

Heh at the fact that you know who wrote the above letter. You are welcome. *grin*

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Dear D,

I don’t know how else to tell you how proud I am of you. You know why.

The you that you are right now is the best you ever and I love you so very much.

Especially all of the sex.

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Dear Tarable,

Gah sometimes. And then I remember that you are always gonna be you and I love you for that. I just wish that you would freaking listen.

Then again, I was there. I did me and learned the way I wanted to learn.

So, I will just love you.

I love you.

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Dear Self,

You are starting to get it and it feels rad.

Stay focused. Stay focused. It is not a far shot to remain on track for the end goal. You are gonna achieve it, and then you and D are gonna have a trip of a fucking lifetime.

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Dear KenAdams,

Keep dreaming.

—————————————————————————————————————–

Dear Numbah1,

You are gonna be so great at adulthood. Stop worrying so much.

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Dear WorkDouche,

Shut the hell up already. When are you gonna get the hint that your shit in fact DOES stink? You are annoying and I am not interested in being your friend.

—————————————————————————————————————–

Dear Girls Trip,

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

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Dear June 14th,

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO (breath) OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

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Dear Tricky,

I cannot freaking wait to high 5 you for being literally as awesome as me. We are awesome sisters.

I am so proud of you. I am in awe of the challenges that you not only faced, but fucking Chuck Norrised to get to where you are today.

You deserve all the love in the world. Every single ounce.

*cheers*

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Dear Unknown Pranker,

Fuck your face. Seriously. Prank calls? Breathing in the phone? Really? Are you 17? What kind of coward ass bitch are you to call my phone 4-6 times in a day and breathe in the receiver.

You need help. Or me to whoop your ass. Come out of the woodwork you fucking sloppy vagina.

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Dear Spam Commenters,

GEOUFHERE. Gah.

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Dear Charli,

You are almost a diaperless toddler! Woot! Mommy is proud of you. Next task: Sleeping in your own mfing bed all night.

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Now for some eye candy:

Fantastic Four’s Chris Evans

And Mad Men’s Christina Hendricks

Now it is your turn: Purge your weeks so you can thoroughly enjoy your weekend.

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

“How do you retrain the wheel… in the oral department… when the other person just isn’t as into it as you would like them to be??”

Specifically referring to “dining out”.

I call this oralsexophobia.

When it comes to oral, there really isn’t a retraining. I think oral sex is like sushi. You either like it or you don’t. It isn’t really an acquired taste/talent/fetish. I know several men who just do not prefer to put their face in-between ANYONES legs. I don’t care if you have the prettiest most famous vagina on the planet. They just are not gonna go there. On the flip-side, I know several women who not only refuse to suck a cock… but DEMAND to have their coochie knife and forked regularly.

Um. What?

Granted, I haven’t been a regular Blow Job Betty lately… (not because I am not in a giving mood by any means..) and usually the snatch to cock ratio favors my pleasure… but I don’t demand head if I am not willing to reciprocate.

“So,” you ask… ” what am I supposed to do if I want it, and he/she just doesn’t want to give it?”

There are many different layers to this loaded question.

1:Are YOU giving oral with no reciprocation?

If yes, I would stop. Period. Give ‘No McOral’ a taste of their own medicine. Why should you be the only one giving presents. (yes, I understand that most of us who DO give oral, actually enjoy doing so… however it is absolutely unethical to have Mr. Man in ElBoat-o stranded in lake neglect when Penis McBall is being coddled like a 7 month old infant.)

2- Have you talked to Neglector 2010 about their oralsexophobia?

If you haven’t, PLEASE do. Find out why. Talk about your needs. Tell them how important it is to you to not only receive it, but to give it as well. Explain why it is important in your sex life. Communication is SO key in any relationship. ESPECIALLY the sexual part.

3 If N-2010 is not receptive to your needs, and cannot get past whatever it is that turns them off………

Then you as the needy one, has to decide exactly the level of importance oral sexcapades are to you.

Personally, I would tell D to go take a long walk. I absolutely MUST be the main course on a regular basis. I need frequent stimulation. Period. Need it. Like life or fucking death. There is nothing better than a fantastic tongue fucking related o-face.

Dining out, in my opinion, is more than just a luxury. It is as important as cock penetration. Period. If your ball-and-chain cant get it together… I would tell them to kick rocks, OR find someone who WILL do it on the side.

On a side minirant…. if I catch wind of another bitch that doesn’t swallow…. I am going to fucking scream. Giving head and not at least letting him cum INSIDE your face is like giving him a hot fudge Sunday without the fudge. If you don’t want to digest his seed, fine. But don’t make him tell you when he is about to cum so you can move out of firing range.

He.Might.As.Well.Whack.Off.

Nothing irritates me more than a half-assed Betty. DON’T give them then. DON’T get a mans hopes up and then shaft him at the end.

DON’T make us full BJ givers look bad. We give 110 percent, so you need to as well.

K? K.

IF you were to name the emotion that you waste the most time on, what would it be?
Name five songs to which you know all the lyrics.

I am sure that I am not alone when I say that I feel most content surrounded by the people I love. But I am probably one of few that doesn’t have that many people surrounding them anymore.

It seems like no matter how hard I try, the people I love the most diminish with time and happenings and exchanges of words. It makes me sad. It breaks my heart. It causes me to look in the mirror and ask myself what I as a friend could have possibly done to push them so far away.

But then, maybe it isn’t me.

I am difficult to love, and I like it that way. Why should my devotion come so easy to everyone? Is it fair to think that the people in my life should work hard to earn my love, trust and loyalty? I would work hard to reciprocate for theirs. In every relationship that I have ever encountered, I have worked hard to show them exactly how important they are to me.

I wonder why I find less and less people willing to do the same. As if, it is acceptable to give 50% in a friendship all of a sudden?

D tells me that so many people are terrified of me. Intimidated even. That they are afraid of what I might say to them. What do you mean? You are afraid of someone possibly telling you the truth? Is that what “friendship” has come to? Lying to one another? It makes me sad to know that people walk on eggshells… but at the same time, my guard remains up because really, I don’t give a fuck. I am gonna be me and say what I think, and ask for forgiveness later if it comes down to having to.

Fact is, I don’t like people. I don’t trust people. So excuse me if I don’t run and hug you and tell you all of my deepest, darkest secrets when we first meet.

Regardless, my life and my love are mine… and I choose who to share them with. If it isn’t you… then you haven’t proved to me that you are worth my love. If I shared it with you, and it was betrayed by you… then shame on me for allowing you in in the first place… It is too bad that you are gone, but with or without you…

I am going to love life, and live love.

Because that is how I roll.

Thoughts?

If you could have any car you wanted, which car would you choose? Would it be practical or flashy?
Imagine you woke up one morning to find you had switched bodies with me. What would you do?

Because 1 day I am going to be nominated and chosen for an Academy Award. You don’t believe me?

Read and learn.

One of my books, probably SC is going to get recognized and made into a screenplay. Then it will go to an independent film festival. Critics will rave about it. Then it will be made into a Motion Picture. There will be controversy.

But, it will receive an Oscar Nod.

And then, I will get all dolled and D will get all G’d up from the feet up … we will walk the red carpet … Tarable and the kids will be in the audience with me …

… And the award for “Best Screenplay” goes to : WICKEDCOURTNI !!!!!!!!!!

I just made a believer out of you. In less than 100 words.

Anyway, I will get called up there and I will totally act surprised when really, I knew I was gonna beat out the “competition” in the first place.

See? Surprised.

Anyway. I would act all prepared on the outside but would be freaking the hell out on the inside. But I would have a speech prepared. Not the full 2 minutes, because I know I will stutter and pause and lose my place a couple of times … and God forbid *I* be the one to get the cut off music played when I am not finished speaking.

But I would have to thank people. Important people.

Like The Academy. (Because I heard, if you don’t thank them … you get black balled from EVER receiving a nod again or some shit.)

I would thank the years of sex, some breathtaking … some … well … fucking pathetic.

I would also thank Minka Kelly for playing the part of Julia. This role will define her career.

I would thank cocaine. Because, well … it is a hell of a drug. Or *was* anyway.

I would thank all of the prostitutes in the world because they were my muse … and who’s lifestyle I have a weird obsession about.

I would also thank my family … my D … all of the people who told me that the book was good even when it probably still needed work.

And then I would say something really profound and funny and start crying as if I won the Best Motion Picture award or something.

And I would be FB’ing from my iphone the entire 3 hours. Because I am THAT girl.

Who would you thank in your acceptance speech?

I know, when I realized that 1) I am a grown up and 2) the friends I have mean more to me than I could ever express into words.

I feel like I am consistently reaching out. Phone calls, Voicemails, Texts … Emails … Many of them go unreturned and that is okay. I know that life is busy and that the world doesn’t revolve around me. However, I just want for them to always know that they are loved and thought of by our family. Fact is, we used to have a tight knit group. Our family. Most of them were boys, and as boys do … the revolving door of female counterparts was a frequent one.

Anyway, the tight knit group have since dissipated. Most of them have moved away and started lives with different friends and love interests. I get it. It is rare that what happened 10 years ago will happen 10 years from now and the entire group of friends will grow old together, spend holidays together … have their kids grow up together. What is hard for me to accept is that, in everyone’s lives … the importance of those friendships aren’t that much more important when distance is involved.

Or is it just me?

D and I found out that one of (or so I thought) our closest friends and his wife and daughter came home for a visit this past week. We found out the day that they left. I hate to be this way, but it stung a little bit to know that, after all of these years … we weren’t important enough for a phone call. It doesn’t really matter how long or short the trip was. It doesn’t make a difference to me. If it were me, I would make every effort to include all of the most important people in my life. If it didn’t work out, then fine … but at least they knew that it was important to us to wrap our arms around them … share a laugh … have a drink … break bread. Whatever. Something.

Even just the opportunity to say hello.

I am watching through photographs. Kids are growing and all of these memories are being made. I want to know them. I want their babies to remember me and love me like I love them. But as it stands, I am a stranger to them. That hurts my heart. Especially because my kids have uncles out there … and now nieces and nephews … whom they barely know. Not by blood, but by bond. Bond to me is that much more solid than any blood relation ever could be.

But I guess I cannot expect the world to see things through my eyes all of the time and I sure as hell cannot expect it to give as much of a shit as I do about the people in it whom I care so God damn much about.

You know the drill. Purge your weeks in open letter forum so that you can fully enjoy your weekends.

Dear D,

Okay.

——————————————————————————————————————–

Dear Zac,

Remember when I performed “Sideways” as if I were E-40?

Heh.

When “It Aint No Fun” is performed, I am going to perform it as if it were my song that I wrote. Word for word. Annunciation for Annunciation.

Prepare to be impressed.

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Dear D,

My vagina officially has a password on it. Might wanna start looking or new porn because after 3 failed attempts, you are locked out indefinitely. i.e. fuck off you sneaky sonofabitch.

———————————————————————————————————————-

Dear Tomorrow,

I AM SO FUCKING EXCITED. Like if excited had a password, it would be “SNOOP”. If Snoop had a password it would be “MY TITS IN YOUR FACE”

You cannot come quick enough.

———————————————————————————————————————-

Dear Tarable,

Be careful what you wish for.

———————————————————————————————————————-

Dear D,

For someone who is trying to not be that guy, you are really being that guy.

———————————————————————————————————————-

Dear Vagina,

You need your cobwebs swept.

Love, Kim

———————————————————————————————————————-

Dear Mom,

Why don’t you call the firing squad in Oregon to get your irresponsible son on the phone. I am not his fucking keeper. I am sorry that he is avoiding you; I did what I could. Stop calling me eleventy million times every day about it. I did my part.

I love you but gaaaaaaaaah geoufmyface.

———————————————————————————————————————–

Dear You,

Kick rocks to Panama City and then do something with this:

———————————————————————————————————————–

Dear PL,

Dont front like you want this when you really cannot handle it.

———————————————————————————————————————–

Dear IamgladInevermetyou,

You are a horrible, selfish, 2faced, childish human being. You have zero idea what friendship is or what it even means. I am so glad I never met you.

———————————————————————————————————————–

Dear Life,

Why are you so complicated?

———————————————————————————————————————–

Dear Fat,

Fuck off and fall off.

———————————————————————————————————————–

Dear Self,

You did it! Now all you need to do is work on repeating it every month. You aren’t gonna be the one with the fluke one time success. You have to apply that success to everything that you do.

Next stop — Hawaii!

———————————————————————————————————————–

Dear Fake Bitch,

I know what you think of me. I know that you are jealous. The problem is that it is all you. You are jealous because you are jealous … not because I ever did anything to you. I have just been myself and tried extremely hard to form some kind of commonality with you. I cannot help it if you are an insecure person. I cannot help it if you struggle with yourself and your own success/happiness.

What you need to do is stop blaming the world for your own shortcomings.

————————————————————————————————————————-

Now for some much needed eye candy:

British Rugby star Jonny Wilkinson

Annnnnnnnnd the beautiful Monica Bellucci…

Your turn. Let it out. You know you wanna.

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?