The business of recapping.

A weekend recap. This is what I have been told should be done on Monday mornings. Not a bad idea. What it made me realize however, is that I have a shitty short-term memory.

Friday night: Girth and I played power hour. He found the most wonderful compilation of one minute song snippets, all 80's t.v. theme songs. One hour and 13 beers later, we were retarded. We indulged on chicken enchiladas, I jumped on Youporn, and then he dragged me off the computer by my hair and threw me in bed.

Saturday: We lounged around, hung out, caught up on shows, then napped with our babe. I love it when we are all in the basket. Perfect. Then we went to a Crunch game with a couple friends. Ten dollars a beer means I would rather steal a half empty cup off the floor and drink after the mouth of a stranger, so I didn't drink. However, the girl on the other side of the aisle drank enough for everyone. We watched her sing and point each word out to enunciate it, smack about six different guys in the ass, poke them in the assholes, hop from row to row taking FB pics with them, sit on their laps...yeah. Plus she had on suede stilettos. Who wears fuck me pumps to a hockey game? Oh yeah. The drunk girl, with cork screw curls, dick hopping between two aisles. There was also about 5 hockey fights for that game, so it was an action packed event. Came home, and watched a few episodes of The Office.

Sunday: Ice skating, per usual. Our offspring gets better every time. Then to Oswego where Riot raided grandpas games for a, "wace cah game". He also stole all the change off the table, polished off a container of cheese balls, and got nipped at by my dads fat little pig of a pregnant whore dog, Sadie. She's lucky she missed, or I would have slapped the puppies right out of her. Came home, Girth napped, and then went to his game. Me and my babydoll had a movie night. Then I caught up on Revenge.

There's your recap. Pretty much the life of a rock star.

 

Insanity.

Things that drive me insane:

1. Skinny girls that do fat cries for attention. Reassure yourself and stop being a twat. On second thought, quit using the opinions of others to determine your own self confidence.

2. Taking a shit at someone else's house, you will absolutely have an endless 20 minute sticky shit, where you use every piece of toilet paper available.

3. Pregnant ladies who eat everything in sight because they are, "eating for two". It's unhealthy, for both. You need nourishment for two, but that does not mean your fetus needs its own Big Mac.

4. The fact that I need to pass Statistics for my degree. And any other math related course. When I do begin my career, all of those matters will be shuffled to the accounting department. Bachelors in Business Management = IDoWhatIWant.

5. When people are talking about their child and they say, "MY whoeveritis". Why is the 'my' necessary? You sound like a pretentious mommy dearest.

6. The invisible force field that prevents Girth's clothes from landing inside the laundry basket, as opposed to beside it.

7. When I am creating a vaginal masterpiece and take too much off, forcing me to get rid of it all and have a naked chicken. I wish I could magically poof a start-over bush back on.

8. A camo shirt, cute boots and a pbr does not make you a cowgirl. That 5 lbs of makeup on your face even says so. And just because you own a red sundress, does not mean Kip Moore was singing about you.

9. Having a business licence means you have a business. Until then, you are simply taking money from local business owners pockets. Specifically falling into that category; photographers & tattoo artists.

10. Lastly, the woman and her children who were at the park the other day while Riot and I were there...As he tried running up the slide, I told him to not do that, to use the park correctly or we would leave. The other woman let her children run right up it. Now, not only does my toddler not understand why he can't but they are, but her kids could have jacked mine up while he was trying to use it correctly. This made me insane, and I wanted to throw playground dirt right in her face and kick her off the swing that she sat her lazy ass on. Maybe if she had spent less time texting, and more time enjoying the park...wow...nevermind. I must look insane to all those others mothers, since I am actually getting physical, running, playing, sliding with mine.

I may have hit a nerve or two, here and there.

I think it's common knowledge though...that the truth hurts.

 

Quote, quote!

So. I have a helpful lass in my blogging adventures, who proposes topics for me, from time to time. To thank her, I would like to do something that I need everyones help with.
This lady is in the insurance bizz-nass. Quotes make her day, and it would make mine if you made hers.
Because I love her so much, I will give the 20th person to get a quote from her, a $20.00 dollhair Walmart gift card. It will take you 5 minutes to make her day, and possibly some cashmoney too!
This starts now 11/13/2012 and goes until Friday 16th, 2012.
 

She's an Eastern Shore associate, and she will quote the pants right off you!!
Her direct line:
                                                         593-8343- Erin.

 

VIP

Women are scandalous. Plain and simple. They are all lesbionic when it comes to boobs. Everyone loves a good boob. We went out the other night, and I had that proven to me, time and time again. Female friends as well as strangers. It was like my tits had invitations plastered to them. One lady, a complete stranger wearing a a dick necklace that flashed like a disco ball ran up to me, and titty banged me with it. Then hugged me before resuming her sweet dance moves. She seriously hugged me after...may had well thrown a twenty on the bed side table. I had conversations with people, only to look down and see the hand of someone else just laying on my boob. They were slapped, grabbed, jiggled, motorboated, and manhandled every which way. And all by the ladies. What is it about women and boobs, that it is just normal, it is just peachy to reach out and get a handful of anothers woman's jugs? Now, don't get me wrong, I am not saying that care, or mind at all. I like my friends, I like my boobs, whatever. Even the strange dick necklace lady. Whatever. I just think that girls feel entitled to other girls boobs. Just like baby belly's. But, you start pawing at the wrong gals baby belly, and you just might feel a wrath like no other. It seems like protruding parts of the female anatomy are just up for grabs. Good thing we don't have wieners. Je-sus. Mine would probably be huge and I would probably have to beat bitches off with it.
Whatever the titty issue is though, it isn't anything new. I think it was just in overdrive this weekend. Maybe I looked super duper pretty, because I also got kissed. Twice. Obviously if I ever want to switch teams, I'll be a VIP.

Nice girl.

 

Nipples & bacon.

One thing I have always wanted to do, spend the weekend at a nudist colony. I love to be naked. All the time. Almost burnt my nipples off slaying bacon once. I moved into my first apartment at 22, and it was all down hill after that. As soon as I walked in after work, clothes were off, immediately. Dishes, vacuuming, cleaning in general, in the buff. People call before coming over to make sure I am clothed. So, a nudist resort would be pretty bad ass. The one hang up I have is seeing the backs of balls. Not even sure why. What if I am doing something fancy, like playing tennis with a guy, and he bends over to retrieve a ball...I don't even care about seeing his b-hole, but I will die if I see the back of his sack. Bike riding too. It's funny enough picturing a guy riding his bike, wiener all sitting on the seat, well, unless he's an unlucky one who has a turtle dick, but he hits a bump and it's all flip-flopping around. Oh my lanta, OR if someone were to trip and fall. That might be too much. Maybe I am not mature enough to handle so many swinging dicks and bouncing bewbs. I just WANT to. Swimming naked is the best thing, ever, but I still want to cookout, hangout, sit around a campfire all nekked and just relax. All this relaxation though, means alot of farting. That, I may not be able to handle in such large numbers. An entire community of naked assholes farting might be too much. Girth can't handle people farting when he eats cereal. Sometimes a ripper has peeped out of me and the look of disgust on his face makes me wish I had never been born. He can't even finish eating it, and doesn't help that I am usually sprawled out naked at night when this happens. He also does not like to be naked. I would have to take the naked trip all alone. Poor little miss lonely tits-a-swinging all the way to the naked place.

 

I will have done this before I die.

 

Number One.

Last night I thought about the first time I had sex. I've heard horror stories from a lot of people about their first time, that they hated it, but mine was actually just dandy. Now, I don't remember the actual date, but it was the night before my first day of ninth grade. I know, I know...a mere 14 years old. BUT, he had been my boyfriend the since 8th grade- where I snagged him at a school dance. Made him dance with me, asked him to be my boyfriend after a couple songs...quite the saucy 13 year old I had been. Anyhow, entering high school was obviously a huge deal...and the fact that I lost the ol' V-card the night before, makes me think it was his way of staking claim. It was about 10 minutes of hair petting and him asking if I was ok, and tons of handholding. All of this makes him sound like some weird 42 year old man, but he was the same age as me. Even now, holding hands is one of my favorite things to do, strange now that I think about it. Anyways, the lair of love was the bottom half of a set of bunk beds, complete with typical boy-ish sheets. I used to know the characters, but perhaps I blocked it from memory...being that I got blood on them. Then I walked home, bow-legged, because that's what I thought I was suppose to do. First sign of being too young to fornicate right there. And too much HBO. So there it was, hymen smashed out like the kool-aid man through a wall, a complete life altering moment, and I never got off my back. Number One stayed mine all the way till grade 10, and is still the only boy who ever broke my heart and my hymen.
I think I'm thankful for a decent first time, one that neither turned me off from sex, or made me to be such a fiend that I nailed everyone in site. At 32, the number of wieners in my repertoire remains in the single digits, a healthy number 9 to be exact. That's not to say though, that each one was a shining moment...jesus.

BOOM!

Handsy pants.

I came across this forum online, a real mans man kind of chat party happening. Well, this one guy, of supreme intelligence, obviously, claims that the smallness of a woman's hands, indicates  a tightness in the vagina. Oh, and a shorter vagina too. Not all the duders were on board with this theory, though, thankfully. However, this was also thrown into the mix,
"Having a kid will ruin any tight pussy", (PEnoob, 2011).

Woah, woah, back it up, you walking science experiment gone wrong. I, for one- beg to differ. The only logical reason birthing a child would ruin a muff, is if that baby drove out of there in a bus. Pretty unlikely, so that ol'clam should snap back into shape. With kegals of course. THEN, in another turn of events, it was determined that hand size and baby squeezing out actually are NOT the causes of a tight/untight vagina, but it's actually about athletics. Apparently, track runners and soccer players have the tightest snootches. Except for some athletes though, since RockstarParkingdude had this to say,
"...forget about softballs girls, they're all lesbians"

Yeah. So there's that. So, don't get excited softball players, your obviously running floppy muffs around the bases. I, on the other hand, have done soccer and track...so maybe they're onto something...hmmm...I'm telling you, seriously though, this forum was brimming with intelligence and insight. One man needs only to size a gal up for a few seconds before determining her vag's width AND depth.
I know lots of females who think like this too, shit, I have even done it myself. Thick neck, hands, wrists, whatever, the association is there. I have a friend or two that insists all nerds are biggest in the pants. I don't even know what to say about that. It's never been confirmed in my pants, there are zero nerds in my repertoire.

http://www.pegym.com/forums/womans-perspective/23800-how-spot-women-smaller-vajas.html