Fat cookie.

It's official. I am so close to the weight I was before getting impregnated. Only about three hungry days, 2 laxatives, and 1 water pill away. Then, BOOM, I am there. A 72 hour stomach bug would probably have the same effects, but I wouldn't get so lucky. Three years of pregnancy weight has run its course. Yesterday, I put on a pair of jeans, and you know that feeling you get when they fit just right? Well, fuck that feeling, these bitches were straight up TOO BIG! Obviously I wore them anyways, because they had the power to make me feel so skinny. Which obviously means more naked night time strutting through the house, telling my husband how amazing I am, dancing around, pushing my nakedness all over him. He is too busy swatting me away to appreciate it though. It might have something to do with dragging my vag across his arm while he is typing. Which by the way, also seems to have lost a pound or two. No more Ken doll dick-like bulge in my yoga pants.
This also leads me to idiot friends who use the term, "fat clothes". The girl who loses some weight and starts shopping, so she starts giving away her old clothes. This is what that silly fuck sounds like, 
"HEY, I"M GETTING RID OF ALL MY FAT CLOTHES... DO YOU WANT TO GO THROUGH THEM??" 
Ummm...excuse me? I had this happen once, years ago. I was a 5/6 at the time. No fucking thanks you idiot. Not only was I not fat, I never had been, and you suddenly getting thinner did not make me fatter in the first place. Excuse me while I choose not to dive into all your old, "fat jeans", and instead would like to strangle you with them, you insensitive, inconsiderate slob. Too bad their dick intake increased while their calorie intake decreased.
No worries here though, I'm keeping all of my "fat clothes". My weight goes up & down wayyyy too much. There's everything from a 4 to a 10 in my closet, and that's the way it's going to stay. Fat muffs need nice jeans too.

This image is not even relevant to my blog. But I did find it while searching for one, and just couldn't help myself. You can own one of these fellas, for just under $150.00. Why, though, I have no idea.

http://www.batkatcreations.com/MaleDolls.html

 

12 Inches.

As I was sitting outside the other day, there was a tape measure beside me. So, I'm screwing around with it and stretch it out to twelve inches. And, woah, woah, hold the phone. Immediately I think about wieners. A twelve inch salami. Is that really necessary?? It would be a monster, completely intimidating...no way. Maybe it was just the tape measure, but that thing would seem impossible to hold back in a pair of jeans. Like they would need an industrial strength zipper or something. I don't know if it is just the tape measure that makes it look so much more intense, but surely, a guy with foot long wang could tickle his own nipple with his boner. I held the tape measure down my leg, then at my muffin, bent it to see where the springy boner would hit me. It seemed unnatural. Not me having a dick being unnatural, but the size of it. This also left me completely perplexed as to why girls run to a million inch wiener. How is that even the important part? It's most definetly the circumference on that sucker. A guy could have 10, 11, 12 inches in his pants, but if it has got the width of uncooked pasta, no dice. No one wants that, I wouldn't think so anyways. It's like your inviting damage to your rib cage. Like you're just asking someone to knock your ovaries around like pool balls. If I ever had a 12 incher sprung on me, I'd probably use the balls as a springboard and pole vault right on out of the room on that son of a bitch.

This the only type of 12 inches that is getting near my lips.

 

Sleepytime slut.

Woke up last night pulling my husbands jammy pants off him. I was in full on attack mode all over his wiener. It had been a normal night, no drinking, no porn, even went to bed right after Sons of Anarchy, asleep by 10 o'clock. It appears the sleepy slut has returned. It used to be a real problem, neither of us ever got any sleep. He would roll right away from me at bedtime and sleep tight on his belly because of it. Woke up countless times with my hand right down his pants, getting all old school with the hj's. He would fight me off, and go back to sleep. I have woken up right on top of him trying to get my swerve on, or just plain ol' humping the skin right off his leg. He of course, shoves me off with disgust. Last night though, was the first night in a while. I wasn't even having any sexy dreams, I was actually having a scary one! And he wasn't even saving me, so I wasn't offering my vagina up in a gratuitous nature. While last nights sleepy time sexcapade did start out only in his favor, I did wind up getting lucky, so that's a plus. We were both wide awake by that time, so that's even better. Until we looked at the clock. Being asleep by ten, we assumed it was like 5am...nope. It was only midnight. A Googling I will go, and find out that sexsomnia is the real deal, present in 4% of women. Could be worse I guess, like a sleep eater or something. Then again, I was only a wiener type away from that difference last night.

Clearly, I would not be a good candidate for a sleepover...

Flipping awesome.

Had a sitter this Saturday, went out. Pretty sure that I make it way too obvious that sitters are not a regular occurrence around here...because I completely rage it up. Now, if your one of those moms who drank on weekends, went out with friends, did crazy things, until a baby fell from your vagina-well, you can just stop. I see ridiculous rants all the times coming from the mouths of these bitter lasses. Thinking that becoming a mother is an intro to sainthood, when the reality check is- you were obviously just inducted into judgemental twat-of-fame.
This weekend I had some great times. Played flip cup like an adolescent, abused a clay dick, had enough fun that I don't remember limping in the front door at 1 o'clock in the morning. Being a parent does not mean that letting go for a night makes you any less of anything. I will do all the things I did before, just in moderation. There is no need to lose a part of myself when another is gained. Immature? Sure. Aside from being a smidgen immature though, I am also a wonderful wife, doting mommy, great full-time student a year away from her bachelors degree, friend, sister, daughter, 2 job working girl. One thing I'm not though, judgemental.  However, if some of those social pariahs, with nothing better to do, feel like passing judgement on the fun other people are having, then judge this:
Upon coming home, it seems that I stripped naked and hopped on the couch to pass out. It also seems that I pissed myself like a gross drunk old man, taking out two entire couch cushions and three throw pillows. Like my muffin was set on sprinkler mode or something. I'm not even sure if this is a step up or down from the night I was puking in the toilet, abruptly sneezing, which smashed my mouth/face of the porcelin, effectivly throwing me backwards into the wall...almost knocking myself out. Bloody lip or piss-without-the-pants. Such a toss up.

   While some are breeding bitterness, I'll be making making memories.

Decadence of a Decade.

I honestly think that if I was twenty-something in the 80's, I would have been a groupie. I would have had the biggest hair, the biggest tits and the tightest spandex around. Now, this is not to say I would have been a groupie for the purpose of jumping on every salami I swooned to, but in all honesty, there are certainly some that I would not have passed up. For that reason, I wouldn't have used those scary old Lee press-on nails...I can't even imagine how many zippers claimed those bitches in the 80's.
Groupies now a days just don't seem legit. For some reason, back then they seemed relevant, glamorous even.They had a mission and they got back stage and completed it. One thing I would have done though, is get autographs. Not just signatures on my teets, but the real deal. Could you imagine having a stockpile of autographs 20-30 years later? So awesome. And then I would more than likely have completely exploited each and every encounter with a filthy tell-all book. "Decadence of a Decade", would be full of Polaroids, meet & greets, and sexcapades. My conquests most certainly would have been, Rod Stewart, Sebastion Bach, Brett Michael's, Steve Perry, and that's all I know off the top of my head. Actually, the most terrible part of this whole ordeal would be missing out on Kid Rock. He would never make it to my to-do list, because by the time he spun onto the scene in 2000, I would have been hiding my sordid past, or in the beginning stages of my tell-all book. The boys with big hair and bigger bulges would have been behind me,and I would have retired my crimper and fuck me pumps. Me and all my illegitmate band babies would be ready to bank off mommys vagina and get fancy. We would forever be thankful to the maker of the backstage pass. And of course the biggest thanks would go to Aqua Net. The 80's could not have even existed without it.

Nothing could ever compare.

 

The day I died.

It just happened, out of the blue. I was completely blindsided, living in a world of darkness...scared and unprepared for what lied ahead of me. Panic stricken, pounding keys, calling for help, I was helpless & hopeless. These things don't happen to me...Sure, I might shit in my pants, pop change into a lottery machine and get confused while trying to play a song like it's a jukebox, hell, I have even broken a wiener in my day, but THIS? No. It was impossible. Or so I thought, because it certainly wasn't. I've even been careful with my online porn surfing...it still didn't save me.
My hard drive shit the bed.
No social networking. Well, very little, thanks to Xbox Live. This was surprisingly though, the least traumatic. No recipes. Could I take on my kitchen with my own bravado and expertise? Well, let's just say we didn't starve. Listening to music. No more Spotify. Time to crank up the radio...it was awful waiting for songs I like to hear to come on, a complete loss of control. YouTube? Guess I have to go without seeing videos of nip slips and silly people falling. All bills were paid over the phone, account inquiries were made over the phone...this was like being in the fucking dark ages. Of all of these things though, none were the worst. The absolute worst was not being able to check multiple weather sites. We don't do cable, just Netflix, so I don't have the weather channel. I seriously check the weather about 15 times a day. I had still never realized how addicted I was to it. The frigging weather. I could not handle the uncertainty of each day, not knowing what to expect. It was then that I realized how utterly dependent and demented the Internet has made me. AND, I was no longer smart! Not being able to "Google It", made me half a retard.

Going through all of this really put things in perspective. It really made me realize some things, gave me time to re-evaluate the situation. The conclusion I reached was...we need a second laptop. I'm sure some of you think there may have been some big epiphany about overusing the Internet...but come on now. Don't be silly. If I have to go two weeks without worldly access again, I will fucking kill someone.
 

Scary.

Last night I couldn't sleep and my mind wandered off to things that scare me...not exactly a big help.

I realized that one of them is quicksand. I can't stop thinking about it as a place for murderers to bring victims, and then use it as a body dump site. Anything could be in there...anything could get lost in there. It's terrifying. I feel like it just runs into the ground forever and ever, like, all the way to China. There's probably so many dead bodies popping up in China, while the American over here is snickering all the way back to their pervert van.

Guys in a bar that wink at me. It's like a dead give away that they have roofies in their pocket. I'll pass on shedding my few sexual inhibitions in front of you and your winking eye.

Excel spreadsheets, creepy baby dolls, spiders, public speaking, drowning, & drive-bys.

The movie Strangers. Absolute scariest movie ever made. Loud music in the dead of night, banging on doors and windows, creepy knocking girl in the middle of nowhere, stabbed in front of your lover. All at random. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck youuuuuuuuuu. Terrifies me.

Another is storage units. Anything, absolutely anything, could be going on in them. People could live in there, hookers, drug meets, serial killers. I'm terrified of being kidnapped and held in a storage unit. Some lunatic going to work everyday, coming back, tormenting me, planning to wear my skin as a suit. People can have whole other lives in a frigging storage unit. It's insane.

Everything regarding my offspring makes me sick. If I can't move fast enough to pull him from harms way, if he grows up to be a mean man, if I'm doing it right.

Dying in any way that lands me a spot on 1,000 Ways To Die, pooping so hard my butthole pops out, getting buried alive & Gene Simmons tongue.

When ever I hear people say, "Do one thing a day that scares you", it freaks me out. Obviously I do not want to be kidnapped, murdered, or have my butthole fall out.