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.

Meat & Potaters.

Well, this Mondays blog was the idea of a huge boobed lass that I ran into the other night. Since I am not a name dropper of all the celebutants around me, we will just call her, E. Snatchel. Being the gem that she is, she wondered what I would do with a penis for one day. For starters, I would have smacked E. Snatchel in the eye with it, because the question SHOULD have been, what wouldn't I do with that son of a bitch...woohooo!!!

Holy balls, a wiener for a day...well, I hope it would be big, because I would have big plans for it! Since I am a female, endowed on the top, if I got a wiener, I will just assume that, that as well would be jumbo sized. So, upon opening my eyes on my first morning of swinging anatomy, I would cry at the sight of my morning boner. I'd probably pull it back and smack it off my belly button a couple times. And then I would immediately beat the bologna up. Feeling refreshed for the day ahead of me, and as much as I would probably just want to carry it around in my hand like a prize all day, I would pick out the perfect outfit to package my package in. My smile and ding-a-ling would be in straight up competition all day long, so big. Throughout the day I would show it to all my friends, and convince one of them to let me mushroom stamp them. I would also sneak in a  tea-bag...because sometimes it's just nice to not be on the receiving end of things. Sneaking off to paddle the pickle every chance I got would suffice until I found someone to hump. This might be a problem though. See, I'm going to want to do all the filthy things with that thing too, but finding a willing participant may not be so easy. It's probably ok though, I probably won't be able to keep my hands off it myself. It's going to feel so badass taking pisses too. I'm going to piss everywhere. I might piss right on someone, and I would pecker check at the urinals...you know guys do that shit all the time. I'm going to twist it and bend it, become best friends with it. I would write my name in the snow, hang a towel off my boner, and make my pee-hole talk. No, I didn't forget I would get a nutsack. Those guys would get shifted from leg to leg just for the hell of it, and I would roll them around like stress balls constantly. I'd probably pull the skin of my balls up over my wiener so it looked like a 3-pak. And at the end of the day, when our fun is through, before he goes, I will let someone kick me in the dick & balls. I know, I know. It's just, if I am going to get the experience, I gotta take the lows with the highs. Then he will be gone. I won't say bye though, I will say see you later.

See you later, meat and potaters.

XOXO

I believe in...

Kissing. Slow, hard, lip biting and with urgency.

Saying I love you, no matter the consequence.

Honesty is NOT always the best policy.

Secrets. Keep some of your own memory pool to swim in, alone.

The satisfactory purr of a kitty is heaven in your ear.

Good sex can set a bad week straight.

Passion in everything.

Making out.

The power of homemade soup.

Abortion.

Love at first sight.

Live music shouldn't be free...buy merch. Show support.

Legalization of marijuana. We have bigger worries then laid back, potato chip munching people.

Singing loudly in the car, and that your voice sounds the exact same as the artists. Or better.

Letting go, in every way.

Reincarnation.

Past lives.

Imperfections.

Nakedness.

Excess ruins people.

The best decades to live in did not include cell phones. Or the internet.

People were smarter before the internet.

People pleasers lack accountability.

The feeling of "home" can be found in an embrace.

I believe that you have to believe in something...

Bitchfest #4 ~ Feeding time.

In most jobs, feedback is the key to success. Giving it constructively, and receiving it humbly.
However, the job of being a mother is not one of them. Try telling a mother how she SHOULD be doing something, or how her child SHOULD be acting. You set yourself up to bring on a wrath like no other. Women know this, and still they attack the parenting choices of others. The biggest argument I see on a  regular basis is breastfeeding. Breastfeeding is of course, the healthiest option. BUT, it is also only as healthy as the mother manages it to be. Even still, breastfeeding your children does not come with the requirement of self-righteousness. Sure, you want to educate people on the choice they are making, it can be all the difference for some mothers, but others are content with how they are raising their offspring. So, not only do some mothers need to be educated on the feeding choice of their babies, but other mothers obviously need to be educated on boundary issues. And, I don't mean with passive aggressive bullshit either. "Oh, yeah. You're still a great mother if you don't breastfeed...I JUST LIKE TO DO WHAT'S BEST FOR MY BABY". Ummmm...yeah. We ALL like to do what is best, and we try to do what we think is best. What we don't need are judgemental mothers trotting around like egotistical harpies. Being a mother is hard enough. Sleepless nights, stressful days, teaching, educating, playing, feeding, training, it doesn't end. All of these things with constant worry and paranoia about each milestone and achievement from birth until the end of time for our kids. Instead of worrying about mothers who feed their babies formula, rather than straight out the nip, worry about the babies who get nothing to eat, or little to no nourishment at all. Focus some of your attention on a cause like that. Whatever you do though, keep in mind that just because you are a mother who rings the dinner bell under her blouse, doesn't mean you have to slip into your judgey pants while doing it.

How about personal? respect? support?

Poo-poo-cachoo.

Almost didn't make my morning poop this morning. I mean, I had to go and all, was actually straight up prairie dogging it, but then something weird happened. Since my kid hovers to take a crap by squatting like a frog, I often have to clean footprints off the toilet. Well, in my dash to shit, I had to wipe it off, but bending over to do so, my poop actually climbed back into my body. I don't even know what happened. It's like it just said "fuck this!", and slithered back up into no mans land. Creepy shit. It was better than the alternative, I guess. Sometimes my morning poo's can be very taxing. My belly will crumble into some hellacious contraction and I will sweat for 15 minutes before some piece of rabbit shit drops out of my butt hole. Talk about hard work with no reward. How is it possible that our bodies allow us to go through so much agony, only to leave a trail of 4-5 little fudge nuggets? Especially after sweating so bad, and becoming so weak from the process. You really feel so vulnerable laying on the cold tile of your bathroom floor with your pants around your ankles. It's like I am being victimized by own treacherous asshole. So unfair. Pretty sure Riot can sense this vulnerability also, because he capitalizes on this time by doing absolutely ridiculous things. He will walk right to the bathroom, but keep just out of my reach, with a pen in his hand. I will hear him drag a stool to climb onto the counter and open snacks. It's like him and my b-hole are teaming against me in some strange conspiracy. Maybe if I laid off the coffee, my body would be more forgiving. As much as it drives me crazy, I can't. Just can't. Besides, the only time it really pisses me off is when I have just gotten out of the shower. There is nothing worse than dropping a keester kake out of a clean & shiny bonus hole. It completely negates all the work you have just done in the shower. Plus it feels gross, especially if you are jumping out and still wet. Ugh. Like having to poop while you are swimming. Deeeeee-scusting. Nothing worse than a dirty squirrel hole.

Really? Really??! How does one miss by this much?