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 |   Life is rough...I have to write it out. |
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I start blogs.....I neglect blogs....I abandon blogs. I start blogs.....I neglect blogs....I abandon blogs. I started this blog....I loved this blog....I abandoned this blog. I started this blog....I loved this blog....I abandoned this blog. I guess it is a good thing I didn't actually hold my breath. |
Day 5 Prompt: (I am sorry Brother Nature   but this is not Day 1....and I cannot bring myself to put that)....We may as well start from the beginning. Today the theme for your blog entry will be 'Fire' the first element listed. Find a creative way to talk about fire in your blog entry. Here's a little twist - Write how the element of fire relates to the five senses. At first all I could think about was doing some Andy Rooney style shit….”You know what really burns my ass?...” But I don’t really think ‘ass’ is one of the senses. It’s a lot of things, but sense it is not. I think I like this theme. It is different and feels like it will be…twistable. Which I do so enjoy doing. But this first one will go just as expected. Well maybe slightly not….I think it will become apparent what I recently was doing…. You know what really burns my retinas? Porn actors with ugly ass O-faces. Is that the face you make when you are with a real person? Because trust me that puts a quick halt to the other person’s trip to the promised land. What’s the deal here? Is it because you are jacking it on auto-pilot? Does pulling out of a pussy and finishing it off yourself for optimum money shot throw off your game? It doesn’t seem to faze Husband A when he’s decided to shoot it anywhere other than “up in there”, the smack-smack-smack of a titty money shot is like machine gun fire. Just practice people. While you are swingin the long dong try to swing some sort of expression that is slightly palatable….you are actors after all. Fake it til you make it…just ask Tyra, she won’t shut up about smizing…soon it will be second nature. Your future partners (not to mention those of us who pay the ridiculous prices to see this shit) will appreciate all those long hours logged in the name of your craft. I promise. You know what really sets my fingers on fire? Shaved vajayjays. Come on now. I see hairless vaginas all day long. I wipe hairless vaginas all day long. Why in the fuck would anyone want to peek in a pair of crotchless panties and see anything resembling a ten year old girl? Not me. Slide your fingers slowly down and….what? Fiddle with my prepubescent hoo hoo? Yeah...I’ll pass. Not to mention….not everyone has a pussy extraordinaire. Some of those bitches are ugly...if you want it touched at least leave a little landing strip to hide what can sometimes be an…open mouth resting face. You know what really makes me wanna suck a hydrant? If the load you are about to shoot would get you a ticket at the weigh station then point that shit away from a mouth. I’m no porno virgin…I know that to some people a face full of cum….some of it inevitably getting in the mouth…that rocks. But trust me…the difference between a few teaspoons and a few tablespoons is much much more than you are thinking…don’t believe me? I would be happy to suddenly spurt a few tablespoons of hot glue into your general mouth area. The least you could do…the most considerate option….would be to leave it in the mouth … major loads should take the expressway down the throat. It’s not vanilla pudding…I, in fact, CAN get enough. You know what echoes with annoyance like sirens? Girls or guys who make a tiny grunt with each thrust. Scream if you’d like. Breathe like Darth Vadar. Squeal and moan and speak. But DO NOT make any noise resembling; uh…uh…uh…uh…uh...uh... with every forward thrust. It is not supposed to sound like you are doing the bass for an acapella group. Somewhere in my mind it sounds like counting. When it is over I want to know the tally. And if you can’t do the actual thrusting without grunting every time then you should reevaluate, well, everything. Because I can guarantee you are not pounding that ass hard enough to grunt every time, not with that kind of pattern regularity. Uh…uh…uh…uh…switch…uh.uh.uh.uh.uh.switch….uh…..uh…..uh…..uh…..uh…..uh…switch. yuck…yuck…yuck…yuck…is it over…yuck.yuck.yuck.yuck.is it over…..yuck…..yuck…..yuck…..yuck…..is it over? Well this is a weird one, and I venture to say that if I had a paragraph to write about some smell that I hate associated with porn then I would be weirder than any of us thought. It almost seems like a challenge. So many tempting smelly things. So we will go all regular with this one. You know what really burns my nose hair? Vegetable soup. Don’t cook it. Don’t cook it in an apartment next door. Don’t have me over while or immediately after you cook it. It smells like the dump in hell. In fact, I imagine Lucifer himself has designed me my own little private hell that always smells of vegetable soup. Oh oh oh….I CAN make this work….if you sweat soooo much that the person laying under you is getting bloated from absorption and this particular bodily fluid has that lovely sweaty vegetable soup smell then pack up your cock and move out of town. And since I’m me…. You know what really burns my ass? Anal without lube. |
Day 1 Prompt: What did you do in September? Did you have any writing goals or other goals? Do you have any writing goals or other goals for October? What do you like most about the month of October? My goals are always huge. They don the deep purple of hubris and therefore are never attainable. I set them...loosely...and then I fall short....strictly. But it isn't a huge deal. There's grow-ers and there's show-ers and my money shot comes after the growth. I didn't really have too many September writing goals other than the 30DBC and that was due to it being the first full month of "in the routine" school. Except that means the beginning of all the parental responsibilities. So it was sorta busy, well, busy for me. Don't ask me what the fuck Husband A and Kids AB have been doing. (Or WAIT...you could ask me about the volume of homework for the second grade and how that is ALL Kid A is able to be doing.) I took September and reflected on all the things I should have been doing, then tried to organize those thoughts. October will be no different. I will make my wings of wax and fly to the sun. I do love the beginning of Fall. It feels like a preview of my favorite - Winter.  If the beginning of Autumn is fucking frigid then get your wolf because winter is coming. At least on my side of the wall. The clothes are better, the sports are better, the activities are better. Things get cancelled. Things smell better. The goddamn flies and bees that have joined forces to drive us out of our home will die. It's just better. |
Day 30 Prompt: War Chest Wednesday! Last entry of the month! Sometime Wednesday afternoon Joel and I should have details ready for October. Until then, here's your prompt, from the War Chest: What is the most annoying sound you have ever heard? There is one sound that makes me want to tear my hair out – and yours as well. When someone bites a mitten. Yep. Or a scarf. Or a sweater. Or a glove. Or a mother fucking cotton ball. DO NOT ask me why anyone would EVER bite a mitten, but you would not believe how often that shit happens. Pay attention – you will see. People bite them to take them off. That is biting AND pulling and I want to rip a goddamn face off. It is a squeak. Oh my gods. A squeak that you hear in your bones. Pulling cotton out of a medicine bottle is the closest non-mouth equivalent, but that is not really even close. People – stop biting mittens. I beg of you. I get the weirdest looks when I have infants or toddlers (see Kid B) and I absolutely will not allow handmade mittens or hats or scarves into my home. Don’t be sending your fucking yarn over here to be bitten. Don’t even do it. And feel free to purchase them something for me to exchange before they even lay their eyes on it let alone their grubby little paws. My muscle memory is in overdrive right now as I sit at the keyboard ready to explode with tensed skeeve. Husband A just asked me why I was gritting my teeth. Biting mittens. |
Day 29 Prompt:Talk Tuesday! I know people often joke about TMI (too much information)...but all kidding aside, can too much information ever be a bad thing? Never. Never ever. Not even for a second. I am an information gatherer by nature and I always get all the facts. I may not ever need to use them but I need to have them. Information is the very best ammunition and I really like to always be armed. You never know when someone is going to say something you will need to refute or support and when called upon to do this I like to outshine the original premise giver. As for giving out too much information. The thickness of that gooey shit is under my control. I like to dilute it quite a bit with more than a few falsities floating around out there on any given topic. That way if anyone truly needed to verify any of my TMI, they would also have to figure out which version is true. I am not an information giver anyway though. I don’t want people having that info, what info I have is mine. I guess a more accurate thing to have said would have been …I am not an information sharer…get that shit yourself like I did. |
Day 28 Prompt: Music Monday! Do you have any guilty pleasures when it comes to music...something you think no one else really knows you listen to and enjoy, or are maybe a little afraid to admit? (If this prompt doesn't really appeal to you, you can substitute music for television shows, or movies, or food...any kind of guilty pleasure, I suppose.) Hmmm. I do not. And that is because if you don’t like what I like, well I just don’t exactly care. You don’t have to like what I like, but I don’t have to pretend for you. And so, I watch, listen to, and read what I want. Wherever, whenever, and in front of whomever. For a while I didn’t especially enjoy lounging around campus with a romance novel. Which, while not necessarily my guilty pleasure, is definitely my favorite way to escape. But I clearly didn’t care that much since I continued to do it. Wanna discuss War and Peace? Okay. Wanna discuss the logistics of sex with a shapeshifter? Okay. Wanna talk about the parallels between Metamorphosis and everyone’s life? Okay. Wanna talk about rolling in the heather in the highlands? Okay. And if you really like me you will wanna talk about Homer or Theocrates while discussing the pros and cons of getting speared by a Spartan. Why should ANY pleasure be guilt ridden? |
Day 27 prompt:The Sunday News! Last one for the month (and I know some of you are relieved ). What's the biggest story in your hometown this weekend? Not where you're living now, but the place you were born (if they're not the same area). The biggest story in the news where I am from right now is the group of people robbing pharmacies. One of which is an armed twelve year old boy. Seven robberies or failed attempts in 24 hours! That’s impressive. All of the suspects are under 18 and most were armed even though not all brandished their weapon. All of the pharmacies are both within thirty miles of where I was born and also where I currently live. The very very best part of this story? They are NOT connected. I’m sorry what? Not connected? Seven pharmacy robberies in 24 hours by children and we think it is not connected? I can get behind the theory that they maybe don’t know each other, but not connected? Nah. {link: http://www.indystar.com/story/news/crime/2015/09/23/year-old-arrested-pharmacy-r...} |
Day 26 Prompt: Creation Saturday! An eighth day has been added to the week, and you've been chosen to decide why. The only caveat is that whatever you decide must be done for at least eight of the extra 24 hours, and what you choose will become permanent for all of humanity until the end of time. What would you do, and why? Oh my god….so easy. Be silent. Everyone must BE SILENT for eight hours of the extra day. Forever and ever…no talking. Silence. The kind that echoes loudly through your brain. No one can ask questions, no one can complain, no one can express opinions or give advice. Just quiet. People can think, something a ton of us need more time to do anyway. And NO! Time asleep does not count. |
Day 25 Prompt: Fun Fact Friday! On this day in 1492, the crew of the Pinta (one of Christopher Columbus' ships) mistakenly thought that they had spotted land. Your prompt: When has a trip of any sort not turned out as initially expected? I am not going to lie. I didn’t post this day because I didn’t write anything. I slacked. Not exactly. I sat here. I did the “hmmmmm” thing and yet…no dice. Now it’s later and I still have no fucking clue. Literally blank. I hate it. I took a trip to the keyboard and it didn’t go as planned at all. |
Day 24 Prompt: The Wildcard Round! 5000 GPs to the random winner! Your prompt: Have you ever had to politely thank someone for something you would've normally found to be unwanted or offensive? How would you handle a situation like that? Excuse me, ma’am? Thank you so much for bringing this screaming ass brat to dinner with you tonight. If you hadn’t done so then he would never have been able to apparently join US, thus denying me the pleasure of giving you a night off. Excuse me, sir? Thank you for being smart enough to see that all the cars for after school pick-up are driving in this entrance and following a painted path around the old building up to the back lot, but still being the lone rebel who insists every day on cutting us all…keeping us on our toes. Without you what anger would I use to steam up my car right before Kid A gets in? Excuse me, Teacher C? Thank you for speaking to me as if I am one of your seven year old students. For a moment there I had it in my head that I was ultimately in charge of my child. Guess I needed taught. Excuse me, Asshole? Thank you so much for always seeming to find your way in front of me today at the grocery store. Usually when I am here I get my shopping done and then get to the next place on my list on time and get to the school on time then get home and have dinner on time and all that shit. But I didn’t have to do any of that today because I had you here to keep me going at a snail’s pace. Excuse me, Sister A? Thank you for reminding me how much better than me you are. Sometimes when I am around you long enough I start thinking about how glad I am that I am not you. I appreciate you reminding me at every turn how wrong I am. Excuse me, Girl Scout Moms A-J? Thank you for reminding me every two weeks that my family doesn’t really mean shit. That my time is actually controlled by you. That by volunteering to do something for your children, I also meant that I was volunteering to watch them for free afterwards. I am grateful you were able to prove wrong the snotty, entitled, selfish view I had of you before all of this. God I can be so rude. Life has made it so I was woefully lacking on my competitor blog comments. Something I will rectify this very moment. |
| I am having a bad day. Not a loud ass bitching in a…ummmm….Roseanne Barr kind of way. A sad day. A day full of tear filled realizations spoken in an unshaky truth. Depressing to say the least. Depressed people shouldn’t get into situations which deepen their depression. We always do. It’s where I am most comfortable. It is where I can function fully as myself. In the saddest corner of the most sorrowful room of my soul. But that doesn’t make it good for me. Such is life. All that is fun is bad for you. Whew. Not to mention my family. *Actually, you know, it was my gut instinct to say it wasn’t good for my family. It isn’t, of that I am certain. But if I am consistently sad what exactly does a dip in the sadness look like to my family? Do they even notice? Not in a poor me…doesn’t anyone notice me…way, but in a serious…is this just who I am to them …way. I mean things that are earth shattering to me are…well, my mind is full of carefully constructed bubbles of compartmentalized sadness, but it is so full that they rub against each other like tectonic plates. (So when something shatters my stability the only one who knows it’s coming is the cat.) This all happens in my head usually. Nothing external even has to happen to set it all in motion. It is nothing my family would find earth shattering, so they probably DO NOT notice until I make some big ass deal about how they didn’t notice. Digressions are the best when you are sad. Alllllllthough….I guess that wasn’t a digression since there was no original point to deviate from. Jesus, just get to the prompt.
Day 23 Prompt: War Chest Wednesday! Have you ever lost yourself in the world of clouds or stars or in any other natural phenomenon? If yes, what did you see? Some random shapes, or some guiding strength? This has never happened to me sober. If it were to happen to me it would be in the forest where silence reigns supreme and you feel the whispers of the trees. For a moment when I was in high school, acid was readily available. Maybe my sophomore and junior years. We did it a lot (too much), anywhere (ANY where), and with anyone (after a while it won’t matter anyway). We fucking drove places (seriously. Idiots.) and attended public functions. We worked, we tried to seem fine in front our parents, and even tripped at school. I don’t even remember how much it cost. Nature is always awesome on acid. You get lost in the stars, the sun, the trees, the flowers, the rain, the grass…. Once I was with two friends…Worst Kisser Ever and Now A Cop. We did the power of trippy suggestion thing and someone said that Worst Kisser Ever’s yard looked like a checkerboard. So then all three of us see it of course. A symmetrical black and green checkerboard. I can see it perfectly in my mind right now and I can remember how fucking excited we were. How we laid in it. I like to think of the neighbors at this point. Three teenagers rubbing the grass and yelling moaning. I prefer to remember it as…we thought we were talking at a normal volume but we were of course yelling. I actually have zero idea if we even spoke. Maybe we moaned in ecstasy, I dunno. Wait, that’s better… |
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