This weekend got me thinking about how much of an impact 1 simple decision can have on everything you do.

Example:

My decision to not deal with D being gone. I made an unconscious decision to just fucking ignore it.

When I got there, it hit me. I haven’t missed someone so much in my whole life like I missed him on Friday night. My right side was vacant. My heart was heavy. I tried my damnedest to play it off but seeing everyone with their significant others stung. With each sting … I made the decision to drink more.

Before I knew it …

I acted like an asshole. I drank too much. I cried like a little girl. I got cut off at the bar for the first time in my whole life. I broke a glass. I forgot a lot of the evenings events. I then made a decision to drive home which then led me to the decision to pull over in some random parking lot and pass out.

Right?!

This decision also led to people worrying about me and that makes me sad. I am not the irresponsible one. Anyway, I woke up on Saturday and wanted to crawl into a hole and just disappear from the world.

What did I say? Who did I say it to? Did I do anything overly embarrassing?

Ahhh… decisions, decisions.

We all make decisions to or not to do things.

Do I make the decision to punch that new work bitch in her face?
Do I make the decision to eat that cheeseburger that I really want to eat?
Do I make the decision to … do that … ?

Because of one bad decision … It dominoed into all of that chaos above. So, now … I have decided to make the decision to stop acting like I am tough all of the time. Because apparently, I am not. I am making the decision to deal with it and not push it out of my mind anymore. Because the next bullshit that happens will be way worse. I know me. That whole business told me about myself.

So. Yeah. As always, I learn the motherfucking hard way.

Have you made any bad decisions lately? How have they affected everything else in your life?
If you could go back and change one decision … one that affected everything in your life … would you? Why or why not?

Consider yourself warned.

In my early days of freaky – deaky Wicked, I chased as much vagina as I possibly could. One might have considered me to be a closet lesbo. In fact, I am pretty sure that it was the consensus of all of D’s friends.

(one of our really good friends actually purchased me a strap-on for Christmas one year. He presented it to me with a speech.)

Anyway, D ran into this broad that he had met years ago. He had tried to hook up with her back then, but they ended up just becoming good friends. Anyway, she started coming around to party with us… and after a great deal of alcohol, she revealed that she was also bisexual.

I immediately turned my radars on.

Was she flirting?
Did she seem like she wanted to makeoutwithmyvagandmore?
Was she laughing with me or at me?

We are about to find out.

One night, we all were meeting up at a party. She came to my house to get ready, and as we were all leaving out, asked did I want to ride in her car? I, of course, did the polite thing and accepted her offer… assuming that I would be one of a few piled into her vehicle.

That’d be a big fat no. It was just the 2 of us.

We stopped to pick up liquor, even though she and I had already been heavily drinking before we left… (PSA Break: Dont Drink and Drive) ... and next thing I knew we were pulled over on the side of I-5 all over each other in the front seat.

She had amazingly full lips. I remember her kisses were soft but aggressive at the same time. I dont really remember her removing my pants, but  I obviously was not protesting. She went down on me expertly. I had assumed that she was new to the whole girl-on-girl thing like me but it was obvious that she was a professional.

After I came, and I came HARD… I eagerly went to return the favor. I will remind you that I had not really been with that many women before at this point.

The pants come off.  “Woah. She has hair down there.”
Panties. Off. “Hella hair. Like Don King in a headlock… Damn.”
My fingers attempt to mashetti through the forests of her pubic hair… only to reveal a milky white substance against her brown skin. “Hmmm…”

So I go for it. Yes. I did. Stop for a minute and get past that part of it. Ready? No? Okay I will wait a second longer.

Alllllllllrighty then. Moving on.

1) I felt put on the spot

2) I was not sure if it was or was not normal… nor did I smell any fish…

and

3) I was not fully comfortable with sexual discussions at that point in my self discovery.

As soon as the lips were spread though, the funk commenced to burn the hairs out of my nostrils. And I could not bring myself to put my mouth on it. Her vagina looked like a bowl of sour cream dip. And, my lips and tongue took a stand. They refused to have any part of the creamy party favorite that was located between her legs.

“Wicked, what did you do?”
“Did you tell her about herself?”

Unfortunately, I was not who I am today. So no. I did not tell her about herself. Instead, I banged her. I made up some excuse about the gearshift and steering wheel being in the way and how we should probably get going… and banged her til she came. *shudders* All over my fucking hand.

I could not wait to get to a Costco sized bottle of Dial.

As we were driving to the party, I started to ponder whether or not I was being unreasonable. I mean, I hadn’t really put my face in that many vajays at that point… maybe I was being picky…? Maybe some people had drippysnatches like she did. Maybe she was made to look like the appetizing centerpiece of a snack table at your cousin’s wedding shower.

And I was determined to find out.

So we walk into the party. She was happy as a (I cant help it) clam yapping her flap to everyone there. I, however was on a mission. I pulled 2 of my closest guy friends aside and shoved my fingers under their noses.

“Does this smell like a normal vagina!?” I demanded

The raw looks on their faces gave me my answer.

That bitch’s vagina was naaaaaaaaaaaaaaasty.

Happy TMI Thursday People!!!

Do you have any SEX related TMI’s to share?
What would you have done? (make sure to put yourself in my younger, inexperienced and naive at the time shoes)

While I ponder that possibility, I will honor my commitment to TMI Thursday by posting one of my most favorite stories of all time.

Long ago… Like, 11 years ago… (God I am old) I was a ‘booter’ in the USN. For my very first deployment, we traveled down the coast to San Diego from Bremerton. If any of you are military brats or ex-military yourself… you already know that San Diego also means Tijuana, Mexico. At that time, the rule was that if you were too young to walk into a bar in San Diego, you were too young to go to TJ.

Did the Border Patrol check our ID’s? Uhhh… No. *wink*

So as soon as we heard Liberty Call, we were on the bus to TJ. What the Captain didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Right!?

Little did we young’ns know, it was Ladies Night at all of the bars in TJ. So when us ladies ordered Long Island Iced Teas… they were automatically poured as doubles. I did not know this. I had 8. I remember the number because my partner in crime at the time kept counting out loud whenever I was passed another.

“OMG! Courtni! THAT IS YOUR 8th DRINK! EIGHT!”
“Bitch I know how many motherf*cking drinks I have had. Shit. Are you my momma!? I miss my mom.”

Not only were we involved in the double pounder LIIT’s, we also did the “Tequila-From-The-Bottle-Straight-Down-The-Throat-Limbo” These guys who worked there walked around offering these “straight shots” for $5 all night.

I didn’t participate in ANY of these shots. I promise!!!!! <— lying.

Anyway, there came a point in the night after dancing my cute little 19 year old ass off in a miniskirt where it was melt-down time.

*GASP*

I know, right!?

I am going to break this down exactly the way I remember it going down. Wannahearithearitgoes.

Queue the imagination to me, dialing my MOM from MEXICO at 2AM on a Thursday.

Mom: “Hello?” (groggy as fuck)
Me: “OhmomIloveyousomucchhhhhhh”
Mom: “Courtni!? Are you ok?”
Me: “MommmmIamwastedinMexicoomgIwannacomehomeeeeeeeeee”
Mom: “Are you actually calling me wasted at 3am on a Thursday right now?!”
Me: “Is that not okay?” (All of a sudden I felt and probably sounded sober)
Mom: “Go to bed.”
Me: “Okay.”

Click.

Me: “Damn. That bitch hung up on me. Biiiiitch.”

My ass (literally) sat down on the sidewalk (in downtown TJ… GROSS) and cried. Shut up.

Somehow, my Partner-in-Crime persuaded me into a cab. I don’t remember this conversation, I just remember being in the cab.

Me: “Stop touching me.” (she was rubbing my back)
PIC: “Sorry. I was just trying to make you feel better.”
Me: “It makes me want to puke.”
PIC: “My bad.”

1 minute later

Me: “STOP!”
PIC: “What!? I am not even touching you!”
Me: “Noooooo! Stop the cab! I am gonna …”

I opened the door to the cab, laid my head out the door and puked. The cab never stopped.   And, all of the people who I was stationed with were walking back to the border… clowning on my situation. I am pretty sure they got a couple of “fuck you’s” in between pukes… but I don’t know. Mostly there was a shit ton of laughter in my general direction.

Normally, the story would be over here. It is not.

We get to where the ship was docked. Being that I was on a huge Aircraft Carrier, there was this long, steep stairwell from land to the Hangar Deck. The mission was to get my drunk, barely able to stand up ass up the stairs and past the Officer on Duty. All I needed to do was hold my ID and say “Permission to come aboard”

Sounds easy, right?!

Queue your imagination to a person on either side of me, holding me up. Then think about me, ID in hand, practicing “Permission to come aboard” all the way up the stairs.

“Puhmishon tah comaboard. No.”
“Missiontocomeaboardd. No.”
“PERmission to come aboard”
“PerMISSION to come ABOARD.”
“Permission TO come aboard”

So I get up there, stand in front of the Officer on Duty, and hold my ID up like I did every single day. He is looking at me. My friends are subtly trying to remind me why in the fuck I was standing there. Because I straight up forgot.

What did I do? I fell the fuck out. Laughing. Like, literally rolling around on the Hangar Deck laughing my drunk ass off. Do I need to remind you that I was also wearing a mini skirt? I showed my vag to a good percentage of men on this boat. (I haven’t worn panties for years.) I remember for several months after… I would get whispers. And I would think to myself… “Those guys saw my crochandmore!”

I do not remember any of this. It has all been retold to me by who? The Officer of the Day. Turns out, he was my BOSS. Riiiiight. So, when I tried to waltz in to work the next morning, hungover, smelling like a mixture of vomit and a walking Long Island Iced Tea as if nothing ever happened… I had another thing coming.

Boss: “Good Morning Seaman Kenyon. (shutthefuckupialreadyknowseamanisfunny) You have fun on liberty last night?”
Me: “Yes sir, but I think I got food poisoning.”
Boss: “Is that why you have vomit on the side of your face right now?”

(I literally woke up and threw on my uniform. No shower. No nothing.)

Me: “Uhhh….” (F*CK)
Boss: “Go clean yourself up and get to work. You owe me one. Remember that.”

Can I get a “FML”?!?!

Did this spark any TMI stories for you?
How about FML situations?
Happy TMI Thursday!!!

“Hm.” I thought to myself, while sipping my umpteenth vodka-cran. “What a Freuding ASSHOLE.”

I looked for him, but strangely enough he had disappeared. I am not even sure that I got a good enough look at his face to be able to really identify him from the next sap at the party. So there I stood, seething at the audacity of this unrequested, unsolicited comment from the unknown man at the private party. The room throbbed with great music and an air of celebration, yet I what pulsated through my veins was the fact that someone pushed their beliefs in my eardrum… without allowing me an opportunity to rebut.

How dare he assume that I was Godless!
Who is he to decide what it truly means to be Godfull?!

I have been thinking about this comment. It replays in my mind over and over again as I try to make sense as to why he decided to tell me, and not someone else. Did I look interested in his beliefs? Did I look like someone who would resonate spiritually with this statement?

Obviously… right? Cause here I sit 6 days later, absorbing each and every syllable.

I have come to the conclusion that I could have quite possibly been over thinking his statement. Even if I was not over thinking it, I have begun to process exactly why a cord struck when his breath hit the side of my face. I think it is because I have run from anything religious since I was a teenager. I am uneducated and ignorant on most things “Godly”. Other than the small stints of summer bible camp with my grandparents every summer, and an interest in AWANA when I was 13… I have no experience in organized faith. I do not draw support from any church, in fact the few times that I have gone to church in recent years, I have felt uncomfortable and out of place. My parents are not religious… in fact my mom was removed from the entire Mormon community for dating a black man. They both left the doors open for my brother and I to explore it for ourselves… but I never really did…

A few years ago, I posted a blog about my concerns internally that I was denying my kids (well, kiD at the time) the experience of church and faith and … that piece of life that I was not given. As I watch my kids grow up, I still wonder if I am a bad parent… one who is making a faith decision for them. How does one introduce it? If I am not sure what or WHO I believe in… how am I supposed to guide my kids in the right direction? When these questions arise, I feel like finding a big rock and crawling under it. I just prefer not to talk about anything that has to do with it, and it is 100% because of my lack of information.

And then there is Chrissa. Someone who is so important to me, someone who believes so deeply in her own faith. I am inspired by her, I admire her, but I am also jealous of her strength in this avenue. I have read several things that she has written where regardless of mention of faith… I could tell that it was drawn from something that she experienced within her church community. Maybe it isnt that I am jealous of her strength in her faith, maybe it is that she has been so lucky to find a sanctuary where she can go and just be Chrissa. I have yet to step foot into a place where I know that I belong. And I know that until I do… until I am able to fully release any and all biases, uncomfortable feelings and stigmas… I will feel this void within my spirit.

There is a void within my spirit.

I can run and hide from it until I take my last breath, but it will be there for as long as I try to deny it.

Has someone ever given you an unsolicited statement, or piece of advice that you may not have wanted… but it resonated anyway?
How did you process it?

What do you take from the statement “To be Godless is to be mindless?”

Furthermore, if you have partied with me… you also know that 99% of the time, I am a fun drunk. A happy, flirty, loveable drunk. I dont do drama. If I am out, it is kick it time. I dont get many of these moments to really let loose, so the last motherfucking thing I want to deal with is a dramafest. Not mine, not yours, not anybodies.

Where are you going with this, you ask? Well I will tell you. Heh.

This weekend I went on an overnight trip with Tarable and her mom for her mom’s birthday. Girls only, drunk fun. We rode the ferry over to a beautiful resort/casino and stayed in the Presidential Suite as if we were rock stars. We all kind-of needed to deflate for our own separate reasons, but it worked. We drank and ate and dolled the fuck up to go gamble on our coin-starred change.

When we arrived, we passed 2 guys. I immediately recognized him, but I could not put his face with where I knew him from. We stepped into the elevator and started our girls trip. I totally forgot about me running into him and commenced to vodka-ing with my girls. After hours in the casino, we made our way back to our room. Wasted. Like blurry wasted. As we were stumbling down the hallway, I ran into this guy again. This time, my endless shots of Stolichynaya jogged loose the brain cell that connected what time period he came from.

The Navy. The USS Carl Vinson, to be exact.

“Oh SHIT!” I slurred. “Daniel Floyd!” (Name changed to not get sued or whatever happens to people who use real names without expressed consent)
“I thought I knew you.” he smiled.
“OMG!! How have you been?! What have you been up to since you got out?”
“BlahBlahBlah… YakkitySchmakkity”

Some more “BlahBlahs and YakkitySchmakkitys” commenced before he asked: “Are you married?”

This is where all hell turns loose. Apparently his cunt of a fiancee was eavesdropping on our conversation. Or, she walked out shortly before he asked if I had a husband. Regardless, the skank starts yelling at him about being a son of a bitch and some more drama that I was not trying to be a part of.

What did I do? Walked the fuck away. Back to my room, my party, my fun. This dude’s sister in law comes to the door, asking what happened because apparently:
1) My Navy friend (duh) has a history of cheating.
2) The fiancee is convinced that we were going to fuck right there in the hall.

So my drunk self gets all lovey and “Oh no! It wasnt even LIKE that!!!” and we make our way to their room so I can apologize to the cunt fiancee about the misunderstanding. We go, I apologize… and somehow I offended this stupid cunt. I do not remember how or why… but I DO remember being physically removed from their room and called a whore.

Um.

Begin drunken offended and humiliated tailspin. I was so upset and offended that I brought this back into the party. Thank goodness for my best friend. She reminded me that I am better than that drama, and even though it was humiliating and offensive… I know that what I did in the situation was not wrong. She also reminded me that we were fucking hot bitches, and they were haters. Like, “Hi Hater” haters. Like, really fucking hating on the fact that her man cheats and probably with girls prettier than her trashy self. Yep, you put your hands on me and call me a whore when I am trying to be the bigger person, and I am gonna point the flaws.

Lesson Learned: Don’t answer the door. Just let them knock and think whatever they want to think, because no matter the amount of class and respect you try to have… you cannot force a trashy, sloppy, hater cuntskank to think anything different than what she already thinks.

Fucking Skank. That’s why your ‘man’ probably is still thinking about me.

Have you ever experienced Haterism?
Have your intentions ever been misunderstood?
Did you try to make it right with the person? Did it backfire?
Have you learned a life lesson recently? What was it?

The last day of the year. I don’t care who you are, if you have big plans or if you are one of the million and a half people who stay home and watch the ball drop in Times Square…N.Y.E. has a buzz about it.

I fucking LOVE that buzz.

I try to do something kick ass every year. Do you ever notice when you try to make something amazing… you are let down? Yeah. Boo on that. This year we will party at home with some ‘cooler than polar bear’s toenails’ friends, eat good food and drink good drink.

Tiara’s: Check
Funny Top Hat for D: Chiggity Check
NoiseMakers and Glow Sticks? Check to the 3rd pizower.

The corny stuff like the above listed items make me happy. I love decorations and themes. I like to go all out for events. So the once small event at my house has a little ‘oooomph’ behind it. It is how I tumble.

I think it is gonna get motherfucking wild.

I am sure there will be pictures.

Anyway… on to the bizness.

Today is about achievements for 2008 and aspirations for 2009. I have 2 of each. Feel free to list more if you got ‘em. I welcome you taking today to blow a little smoke up your asses.

2 Achievements:

2: Going back to school… and finishing my first quarter with a 4.0

1: FINALLY DECIDING ON AN ENDING FOR SC! And… writing it out! That is a big deal for me. H U G E. I struggled for months trying to end it the perfect way. One day, I sat down and just wrote. I guess I should have just done that in the first place.

2 Aspirations:

2: To finish my CDP certification on schedule a year from now… with no less than a 3.8 GPA, and to get accepted in to the Social Work graduate program at UW.

1: To self-publish and sell 500 copies of my book so that I am able to have enough money to invest in an Amazon.com presskit and hopefully get recognized by a publishing company to pick up my book.

If I don’t get a chance to say it beforehand… Happy New Year!
Be safe. Dont Drink and Drive. Wear condoms.

And whatever you do… Do NOT use cheesy pick up lines to get laid.

Are you a big to-doer or a stay at hom-er for NYE?
What are your 2 Achievements and 2 Aspirations?

Have you checked out the new look of the homepage? If you haven’t, you should click here to check it out. Q did a kick ass job so far. I am a proud mama. Support her, dammit!

‘Til next year….