August 2009 Archives
A Close Call
Sonny's Injury 
Sometimes in life, there is a moment so horrific that it makes you appreciate everything you have. That moment happened to me on Saturday night. Not to be too dramatic or anything (probably too late for that), but one of my parakeets almost bit the big one. How could this have happened you ask? Well, let me elaborate…
I have a nightly birdie routine that I do with Sonny and Cher. Around 9:00 P.M., I clean their cage and change out the food. Being the thoughtful mom that I am, I noticed that there was pooh on top of one of their toys and I opened the cage door to wipe it off. Well, Sonny freaked out and flew out of the cage. Now, when I bought my ‘keets a few months ago their wings were clipped and they could not really fly around. They have since both gone through a molt, so their flight wings grew back and Sonny was flying around like a possessed bird, crashing into walls and hitting her head (repeatedly) on the ceiling.
There is really not a worse sound than a bird hitting a wall. This continued for a couple of minutes and I could feel my blood pressure rising because I couldn’t get a hold of her and was certain she was going to break her neck/beak/wing from crashing. I FINALLY got a blanket thrown on her so I could pick her up and get her back in the cage. She was FREAKED OUT. She was breathing really hard and I was trying to remember if birds could have heart attacks or not.
She also scraped the feathers off the top of her head and I can see her skin. It looks like someone took a tiny pair of buzzers and shaved off her feathers. At least she wasn’t bleeding. My next thought was that her brain would swell and she would suffer a Natasha Richardson-type death. I watched her closely all night and soon enough she started acting normal again.
I was VERY relieved this morning when I took the cage cover off and she wasn’t dead on the floor. They will both be seeing the vet this week to have their wings re-clipped and an over-all birdie wellness check-up. I think Sonny is still pissed at me, so I will do what any good mother does and buy her love with new toys! Although, I should really give her a spanking for scaring the crap out of me like that.
The Booger Corner and Other Nasal Memories
Yes, That Is Booger!
As I was growing up, there was a part of our home that was lovingly referred to as “the booger corner.” This was a small patch of carpet by an armchair in our TV room that my older brother Alex would wipe his boogers on. Just in case anyone thinks we were total white trash, I assure you, we were not. Both of my parents are college educated, owned their own businesses, and we had a beautiful home. Why either one of my parents would allow my brother to do this, I’m still not sure. I don’t think they really believed he wiped his boogies there, but I swear that patch of carpet was stiffer than the rest of the living room. Oh, and I saw him do it…many, many times.
Another fond nasal memory I have is the time Alex and I decided to shove pretzels up our nose. Hey, doesn’t EVERY kid do that?! They were the long, stick-like kind and we did this for quite some time. And being the thoughtful children that we were, we then just left them all lying on the coffee table. We left the room to go do something else and when we came back, there was my mom eating the tainted pretzels and enjoying every last bite. Yes, we laughed very hard at her.
Not to be outdone, my older sister has a nasal memory, too. Apparently, when Kelly was three years old, she stuck a lima bean up her nose. And no one knew…until a few days later when a horrible stench was coming from her and no one could figure out what it was. So my mom took Kelly to the doctor, he looked up there with a light and saw what was causing the smell. He then pulled the rotting lima bean out and everything was fine. Just thinking about what that lima bean must have looked like makes my gag reflex kick in.
I have no clue why my family is obsessed with putting things in/pulling things out of their nose, but so far this trait has not extended down to my nieces and nephews, so apparently it must skip a generation. What a shame.
Actors I’d Like To F**k: Neil Patrick Harris Edition
Yes, I am fully aware that NPH plays for the other team. I don’t care. I still REALLY, REALLY want to fuck him. I just can’t get over the fact that this handsome, witty, charismatic and extremely talented guy is the same actor who played “Doogie Howser, MD.” I watched that show growing up and never once thought he was cute. Well, if you had put a gun to my head and forced me to choose between tea bagging Neil or the guy that played Vinnie, I, of course, would have chosen the Doogster. But I digress.
I first discovered what a hottie Neil had become when “How I Met Your Mother” started airing on CBS a few years ago. I give him all the more credit because he plays Barney, the sexist, sex-obsessed, chauvanist character, flawlessly. I NEVER would have suspected him of loving the ‘peen. He MAKES that show. Without Neil, the other characters would be super annoying. Okay… wait, I take that back. I would like to fuck Jason Segal, too.
Anyway, Neil has been great in anything I’ve seen him do. He spoofed himself in the “Harold & Kumar” movies (which I own and can practically quote word for word), he was an AWESOME host on “Saturday Night Live,” and, although I missed it, I hear he was a terrific host of the Tony Awards this past year.
Dear, dear Neil…if you EVER decide to switch teams, may I please be the first the introduce you to the Vadge Hall of Fame? Thank you in advance for your consideration.
80’s Flashback: Tales From The Darkside
One of my all-time favorite scary shows as a kid was “Tales From The Darkside.” I also liked the new “Twilight Zone” and “Amazing Stories,” but there was just something extra freaky about The Darkside. Maybe it was the way each episode began. First, there would be a picture of a serene country side in color and then, BAM, it would turn to black and white and a Vincent Price-like voice would say:
“Man lives, in the sunlit world of what he believes to be reality.
But… there is, unseen by most, an underworld, a place that is just as real,
but not as brightly lit…..a DARKSIDE.”
CREEPY. And the music sounded like a deranged women banging away at the harpsichord. And each episode would end with the same voice saying:
“The dark side is always there, waiting for us to enter, waiting to enter us.
Until next time, try to enjoy the daylight.”
EXTRA CREEPY. Darkside was produced by George A. Romero who made the “Creepshow” movies so it’s no surprise it was pretty twisted. The series aired from 1983 to 1988, but for some reason, NONE of my friends remember it. I had actually forgotten all about it, too, until a couple of months ago when I stumbled upon the SYFI Channel showing reruns. I was in heaven!
Watching it now, more than twenty years later, the series is more kitschy than scary, but it’s still a good time either way. Watch it…if you think you can handle the darkside [insert deranged music here]
Doing The Hand Jive
Here’s another chapter from my book, “What Your Mother Won’t Tell You: Brutally Honest Advice For Young Women.” Enjoy!
Once you and your boyfriend start dating there will invariably come the point where the two of you will start making out and he will request one of two things: a hand job or a blowjob. Blowjobs are a bit more complicated and will be discussed in detail in the following chapter. So for now, we will break down the nuances of a great hand job. Depending on how comfortable you are with this boy or how much you’ve experimented up until this point, you may already know a thing are two about this subject.
But I’m going to pretend that this is the first hand job you have ever given so we can go slowly and get all the pointers down. First of all, you need to be prepared! You absolutely need some sort of lubrication to assist you in this little endeavor. If you have nothing, then spit will have to do, but I suggest carrying a travel size bottle of lotion in your purse. I really recommend unscented, unless you want your boyfriend’s dick to smell like roses (actually, this may not be a bad thing). Also, if you follow up the hand job with some oral action, then you’ll have to taste the scented lotion and TRUST me, it does not taste good.
So by this time, you and your man have fooled around a bit and he’s probably semi-hard, if not a full on brick. Start by giving his cock a few good rubs up and down before you take his jeans off. Don’t rush to get his pants off, either, as part of the excitement is the anticipation of what’s about the happen. Slowly and seductively unzip his jeans and pull them down. Again, give his some nice slow hand massages above his tighty whities to ensure he’s fully aroused.
Of course, you still want to make sure that the two of you are still making out while you’re doing all this, so these maneuvers require some multi-tasking abilities. If you are comfortable enough with your body, you can even let your girls out for him to play with while you perform the hand jive on him. Guys are quite visual and love to look at/play with/suck on a good pair of titties.
Next, you’re going to let his little man come out to play. I recommend pulling his undies all the way down as well so that you will be able to massage the balls, too. If you are not comfortable yet dribbling the balls, then you can let him keep his shorts on and just take his dick out through the flap in the front. Grab your lotion (or spit on your hand, which is so unlady like and gross, so I really urge you to use lotion), and put an ample amount on your hand. Honestly, the more the better. Then, slowly massage his cock. Be careful not to use just a straight up and down motion, but twist your hand around WHILE you move it up and down. It’s kind of the same motion you use when twisting the lid off of a soda bottle. Again, you’ll want to start off slow, then build up speed as he gets closer to ejaculating. You should also vary the pressure you use as well. He’ll let you know what feels good.
The head of the penis is more sensitive than the shaft, so really concentrate your movements on that area. If you feel comfortable, then use your other hand to gentle massage his balls. Don’t handle them too hard, as these are a tender area.
Most teenage boys have a hair-trigger cocks and are not going to be able to last more than a few strokes. They should, out of courtesy, let you know when they are about to cum. If he’s not telling you, then just ask. Usually, it’s pretty easy to tell because they’ll start breathing really hard, thrusting their hips, and yelling, “Oh my God, I’m going to cum!” You can then move your hand out of the way so their man juice doesn’t get all over you, or let them finish themselves off.
Here’s where having clean up tools comes in handy (no pun intended). In addition to lube, make sure you have tissues to wipe everything up, and hand sanitizer if you can’t wash your hands right away.
The most important thing to remember is to only do this if YOU want to, not because you feel pressured. And also, make sure he is doing something to reciprocate. Sex is a two-way street and both people need to feel satisfied. Okay, now that you’ve read the basics and feel prepared, get ready to do some stroking!
Jon G: Douche Bag At Large
I’ve held my tongue as long as I possibly can and now I must vent. I CANNOT hear about or look at Jon Gosselin anymore. I was fine with, and even intrigued by, all the gossip surrounding his and Kate’s split because I have watched “John and Kate Plus Eight” from the beginning and couldn’t believe what was happening. They were frequently on the cover of US Weekly and People, but now he has started to invade the most sacred of all shows, E! News.
E! News is supposed to feature CELEBRITIES, not two-bit reality stars. Now that he has this odd love triangle going on with Hailey Glassman and Kate (#2) Chapman, they have started featuring him EVERY night. How can this man have two semi-attractive women fighting over him?! He is chunky & balding (one of his shows featured him getting hair plugs and it was a bloody mess) and going through one hell of a mid-life crisis.
Exhibit A…he got his ears re-pierced with TWO diamond studs. Exhibit B…he just bought a big-ass motorcycle. Exhibit C…he wears those horrible-looking Ed Hardy t-shirts all the time. I can’t even tell what ethnicity he is. Is he Korean? Is he Hawaiian? I don’t know!!
I can’t believe anyone in their right mind would want a single dad of EIGHT kids. I wouldn’t even date a guy that had one kid, let alone a small army. One of these stupid bitches (Kate #2) even quit her job at Star magazine because she was sent to interview him, then “fell in love with him.” Really? One interview and this dumb bitch was in love? I don’t think so.
I think both of these woman are just publicity whores looking for their 15 minutes. That’s the only explanation I can think of that makes sense. Why else would any member of the female species voluntarily climb on top of this guy? I shudder to think what his “O” face must look like.
What Your Mother Won’t Tell You: Brutally Honest Advice For Young Women
Here’s a sample from an advice book to young girls that I started writing a few months ago. It’s called “What Your Mother Won’t Tell You: Brutally Honest Advice For Young Women.” And it is definitely honest. In fact, it’s so frank, I’m not sure if a book like this would ever sell. I imagine a parent would have to be either VERY liberal to buy something like this for their kid or just not give a shit. Oh, well…I have nieces I can pass this along to some day 
This is from the chapter entitled “Masterbation.” Enjoy!
Ladies, let your fingers do the walking! The sooner you learn how to pleasure yourself, the better. If you don’t know what makes you cum, how is a guy going to magically know? If you are uncomfortable touching yourself, then use a vibrator. They are fairly easy to come by and your mom probably has one tucked in a dresser drawer. Buy one online, whatever it takes, but just get one. You won’t be sorry!
Since this isn’t a clinical book, I’m not going to bore you with medical terms, but most women come from clitoral stimulation. The clit is located at the top of your coochie and it is essentially a mini penis. Yes, that’s right, a mini penis! When you were forming in the womb and mother nature decided you would be a girl, your clit stopped growing and you got a vagina. If you had been a boy, the clit would have kept growing into a penis.
The clit is ultra sensitive and it’s what needs to be stimulated in order for most women to reach orgasm. Occasionally, some woman can cum from having their inner “G” spot stimulated. I have to admit, the G spot feels good, but I’ve never had an orgasm from that alone. I’m a clit girl! Sometimes I barely even have to touch it and I’m cumming like crazy. The more you stimulate your clit, the easier it will be for you to reach orgasm during sex. I like to think of the clit as a little muscle that you have to work out- use it or lose it!
Another reason it’s super important to make yourself cum is that you will not always have a man (or another woman) to do it for you. It’s an awesome stress reliever and a really good sleeping aid. One good orgasm and I’m out like a light. I also think it makes you so much more in touch with your body and an all-around happier person. Orgasms are the ONE great pleasure we get in life that we can do with or without someone, so why not experience all it has to offer?
Political Genius Or Complete Dumbass? You Make The Call!
I just took the “Political Spectrum Quiz” on Facebook and got some very interesting results. According the powers that be at FB, I am a “left social moderate, a foreign policy centrist, and culturally liberal.” Political quiz say what?! Here’s a breakdown of my scores on a scale of 0-10:
Economic Issues: +4.11, Left
Social Issues: +0.98, Libertarian
Foreign Policy: +0.75, Non-Interventionist
Cultural Identification: +4.88, Liberal
What does all this mean?! First off, I thought Libertarians were from Libya. Am I wrong about that one? Secondly, I think it only ranked me as culturally liberal because I said marijuana should be legalized, along with gay marriage. If they had thrown some questions about porn in there, I’m sure I would have been off the charts. And as far as being a non-interventionist goes, I fully support interventions of any kind, especially when they are taped and broadcast on A&E! Seriously, watch “Intervention” it is an amazing show.
By now, I’m sure you’ve deduced that I am quite the political powerhouse and can go head to head on a variety of hot-button issues. Abortion…sure, why not? Gay marriage…like I stated above I’m fully for it. If they want to be miserable like most of the married couples I know, then they can knock themselves out. Death penalty…okay! Freedom of speech…fuck it. Let people say whatever they want, whenever they want. What harm could it possibly do?
Wow, my political knowledge and debating skills amaze even me! Just for the record I am a registered democrat and I am proud to say I voted for President Osama. I still don’t understand how a Haitian was eligible for the presidency, but maybe they changed the rules. I guess that means The Terminator can finally run in the next election.
Teacher, May I Be Excused To Vomit?
With summer coming to an end and kids everywhere preparing to go back to school, I can’t help but reflect on my own school days. What do I have fond memories of? Is it learning to read, making new friends, or getting an A on a difficult project? No…I only remember each and every time someone in my class puked. Here are some memorable vomiting stories circa 1986-1988:
I remember being in second grade and going to the gymnasium to hear the local TV weather man, Neil Kastor, give a presentation on what it’s like to be a meteorologist. Everyone sat cross-legged on the floor. As a treat, the teachers gave us cheese popcorn to eat while we listened to Mr. Kastor. We were told to be very quiet and not talk or else we would get our name on the board (which was the ULTIMATE punishment). Half-way through Mr. Kastor talking, I could hear that familar gagging sound. My classmate, Jenny, had thrown up all her cheese popcorn, which was still bright orange, and it was slowly spreading across the floor like a giant neon blob. All the kids were too scared to talk or raise their hands, lest we be punished, so everyone just started scooting silently away from the evil orange mass. It smelled wretched. Finally, one of the teachers noticed what had happened and cleaned up the moving stench.
I also recall that same year on Halloween getting all dressed up and having a costume party in the classroom. Everyone was eating candy and having fun when Corey, who was dressed as a vampire, puked all over his desk. And, unfortunately, all his candy was on top of his desk.
Then there was the day, back in 1988, when I was in fourth grade. I can’t remember what was served for lunch that day in the cafeteria, but something tells me it contributed to three kids violently vomiting right after eating it. If memory serves correct, my friend Val was the first to up-chuck. We were at recess in the gym and she puked on the floor. One down, two more to go. After recess was over, we went back to the classroom and started in on our lesson plan.
Pretty soon, Noah was franticly raising his hand. As soon as Miss Blankenship called on him, he stood up and projectile puked all over the floor. It was bad. I never thought that much puke could come out of one kid. Miss Blankenship called for the custodian to come and put that gross pink saw dust crap on it (which I think makes the puke smell even pukier). While all of us were trying to avoid the aisle o’puke, my friend Audrey started gagging. She ran to the bathroom and Miss Blankenship moved us out into the hall because the smell was so fowl. I swear that room smelled horrible for a week afterwards.
I hope as all these youngsters go back to school, they truly appreciate and remember all the new, puke-filled memories that await them. I’m getting misty-eyed just writing about them.
Take This Rent And Shove It!
I’m at a financial crossroads and must choose which path to take. Wow, that sounded very serious and deep. Here’s the situation: I moved two years ago into a new apartment which I really like. It is very much an upgrade from my last place. It has two bedrooms, a dining room, my own laundry room, a fireplace, balcony and a carport. It’s even a secured building. I LOVE the location ( I live 5 minutes from where I work) and it’s in a nice, quiet neighborhood. The only problem is, they raised my rent after the first year by $50 a month, which doesn’t sound too bad until I realized that’s an extra $600 a year I hadn’t budgeted for. If ANY of my friends that lived here weren’t already married, I could have one of them be my roomate. But since they all are, and I REFUSE to live with a stranger, the roomate route is out of the question.
After a year of paying this higher rent ($735!), I’m starting to get sick of it. I will NEVER be able to save up for a house at this rate. Soooo what do I do? I could move into a large studio way across town and only pay $420 a month, which would leave me with plenty of extra cash to save up for a house. But, after living here, I’m going to feel like a kid staying in a dorm room. AUGHHHHH! Where the hell is my rich husband?! I HATE moving. I DO NOT want to move again, but obviously I have to put on my big girl panties and make a mature decision about my financial future. Crap. Crap, shit, crap, shit, crap.
