Bitches Be Crazy: Facebook Fueled Psychosis

Bitches be crazy, this is pretty universally understood, but social networking has taken this to a whole new level with the Relationship Status. While Myspace had the opportunity to list your status, it didn't set-up for the anxiety of waiting for someone to approve or deny your request. Of announcing to your friends and family that you were seeing this one person. Forget whether or not you two have spent a sizable amount of time together, have met each others family, or have tagged photos with you both making that horrible smoochy-face. Prepare for the moment of building pressure where you wait for someone to "Accept you're in a relationship with:"

I Don't Trust Non Drinkers

Having proudly managed to shove a gallon of shitty, bottom shelf vodka into any purse I've carried since the seventh grade; I look at drinking as a serious commitment. Few things show greater personal and financial commitment than drinking. Adulthood is about learning to invest time and money, learning to form deep commitments; if you can't do those things with a person, I maintain a great Plan B to emotional attachment is binge drinking.

Why women THINK they hate oral sex

Many women want to take the job in "Blowjob" and use it as an excuse to only do it on National holidays. Between their jobs, children, friends, or turning tricks(no one here is judging if your girlfriend is a prostitute) the last thing most women enjoy is giving without "getting" anything. I don't think women ACTUALLY hate giving oral sex, I think they've just lost sight of why they once enjoyed it..

Keep Your Emotions Away From My Vagina

The best part about FWB(friends with benefits) is that it is all benefit and not much friend, which is fine by me because the last thing I need is having to pretend to give a damn about someone else's problems. In the beginning its a big race to not only orgasm and get the fuck out, but prove who isn't going to be the one to get emotionally attached. Among orgasm's and late night hookups is an underlying competition: who's going to want more than just sex first?

The art of hooking up with your ex

Some people have amazing sexual chemistry, to the point it's undeniable even after a shitty breakup. I have a particular ex that even during our VERY messy breakup, I still couldn't claim the sex was bad or he had a microscopic dick(don't even deny we love to do that, ladies). The sex was just THAT good! Thankfully, after the emotions and pissed off Facebook posts ended, the emotions died and the fucking re-started.

Jesus Get Your Freak On

I once dated a guy who was saving it for Jesus(I know, I don't know what I was thinking either). Fun little fact here guys: sexist oppressive religious rules only apply to women(that's an actual fact, read any bible). Other than never going past second base with me, this guys favorite hobby was talking about how much he loved boobs. Maybe he did, maybe he didn't, but in my experience a good way to express love for boobs is by putting your dick between them

One Night Stand

My New Years resolution was to become a bigger slut. Maybe that's not exactly a popular choice among the fake gym promises and carb-banning, but I was committed to having a resolution I could spread for. If you can't beat 'em, fuck 'em.

Monday, September 8, 2014

September's Currently

Watching: Lotta Netflix

Eating: I've been baking like crazy, so muffins and cookies

Reading: I run a Christian book club and this month's book is Women Living Well by Courtney Joseph and I'm also reading Astronaut Wives club

Thinking: Too much as always. Normal adult stuff. Health and bills and kids and stuff.

Feeling: Despite the over thinking, I'm very happy. One of my good friends told me I look glow-y and healthier and happier than she's seen me look in more than 6 years.

Loving: My family, my faith, my dreams and goals

Wanting: A few things neatly tied up. It's stuff that has to be done on Kys side, so I'm just praying he'll come to his own conclusions.


Look: Though it's time for layers. Getting chilly in Oklahoma City

Friday, September 5, 2014

California exotics Diving Dolphin

 (Next to my hand for comparison on size)

I was more than a little excited to get the Diving Dolphin. I have Cal Exotics Silly Dolphin and it is hands down my favorite toy (but I'm fairly sure has been discontinued, sadly, so I'll be heartbroken when mine finally does die), more than any of the $150+ vibrators I own. The one with the most power, the most intense orgasm is my Silly Dolphin.

When I pulled the Diving dolphin out of the packaging, I was more than a little skeptical. It's much smaller than I was expecting (girth wise), not that I consider myself a size queen, but it seemed a step up from travel size. I searched the house for 3 AAA batteries (one I had to steal from a remote, sorry honey) and loaded up some ...inspiring material. As soon as I turned on the Diving Dolphin I knew I had misjudged the power this was holding. As much as I love the strength in shaft vibration, and the way the beads bounce and causes amazing sensations, the rotating head slowly massages your G-spot, but above all the clitoral stimulator (dolphin) is AMAZING. For something compact enough to throw in my suitcase and not worry about, this thing is packing a huge punch.

While not incredibly quiet, it certainly isn't horribly loud. It wouldn't be able to be heard over a fan, under the covers, and with a door closed, but I wouldn't recommend trying it in your dorm room.

I received this product for free, all views here are my own. Please refer to my disclaimer section for more information.

My Mother-In-Law and I were happy for 25 years, then we met

My Mother-In-Law hates me; and other things I always knew would happen.

I've always wanted a Mother-In-Law who liked me. I never had a fantasy of painting each others nails and swapping sex stories, or anything creepy, but one that liked me enough to not thing I was secretly Satan with really great tits.

In her defense, she found out about me four years after we started dating and her first impression was when her son and I were fighting. I get that, I understand, I've certainly talked to a parent about personal things during a fight. However, it was at least offset by the fact my family has developed a relationship with him over 4 years and deeply love him. So, in the snap of a second it went from her son being a single 27 year old, to her realizing we'd been together since he was 23. Maybe, she should redirect her anger at him, right? But it's SO much easier to hate me instead.

I spent way too much time/energy/upset wondering what to do to get this woman to like me. Call her and explain my side of things? Send flowers? Slowly disappear in to the corner until I just become a coat rack? It was about a minute before deciding to give up and accept my fate as a new piece of house furniture that I realized this was all some Grade A bullshit. As much as my inner Irish woman wanted to stand up, fight for my side, and give her a piece of my mind, I've seen how well that's worked with other peoples parents.

I realized, if she didn't want to get to know me outside of the snapshot she got in a 30 minute conversation (that I'm stubborn and have lupus, both of which are very true, neither of which define who I am as a person or partner to her son), then that was really her loss. I'm not here to make her like me.

What to do when your Mother-In-Law doesn't like you

1: Go to the fridge

2: Get out the tequila

3: Pour yourself a shot

4: Take shot

5: Stop giving a shit

6: Go have sex with her son

Wednesday, August 20, 2014

Ferguson, Missouri

I was raised on a quiet, one way street off a busy section of town where highway 270 met everybody knew your business, playing in a bubble of blissful ignorance. This small section of North County (fondly called "NoCo" by locals) is no stranger to persecution or protests. In the 1960's, it meant women like my aunt went "away" for 9 months and returned, to whispers among the church, with a new "baby sister". In the 1970's, my mom recalls race riots resembling current circumstances. The 80's and early 90's she (and me often in tow at her force) protested in the streets of Florissant, marching with the Catholic church.

Watching any city tear itself apart is heartbreaking, watching it in a town so full of memories is a whole different feeling entirely, each building burned leaves a laceration on a piece of your childhood. As we all watch an endless stream of media coverage on all the destruction (from both sides), it forces us to take a long, hard look at not only how the town I was raised in has changed from a quiet middle class neighborhood on the outskirts of St. Louis City, but the nature of how segregated things still are. My privileged naiveté of being raised by white bourgeois has been shattered, forced to face the hard truth; things aren't unbiased. One would expect, and at the very least hope, to be able to claim how different things are, it's 2014, after all. Though we're no longer using different water fountains or entrances, are things really equal or simply less horrible than they once were?

The words "I'm not a racist, but" have passed too many lips recently, finding a comfortable position in no longer being offensive or shocking. Received with encouragement, people who I once respected for [what I believed to be] their open minds, are now governed by a sense of foreboding. Local police [outside of Ferguson] are met with support, propelled by hostile fear of the unknown. Standing guard over popular hunting/gun stores, parking lots of local establishments 30 miles outside of Ferguson now look like their own police stations. Streets of quieter neighborhoods are empty of municipal police, most of whom have been called to Ferguson, at the mercy of citizens ideas of self governing and peace. This perceived abandonment only fueling fire to irritation, misconception, and discrimination.

The riots happening are not solely about the murder of Michael Brown, rather his murder was the spark that ignited an already loaded issue. The absence of an integrated police force (which is not only a plague in Ferguson), a dwindling education system (many schools in predominantly African American areas of St. Louis are completely unaccredited), employment and healthcare vanishing, intensified by the anger felt at the lack of change many believed [and hoped] would be made by President Obama. Residents of Ferguson are forced with the reality that our seemingly small town is no different than Detroit, Los Angeles, or even Birmingham, for that matter. A lack of foresight and willingness of the governing forces of Ferguson to adapt to the changing class has delivered us here, their refusal to transition has ushered in chaos. Divided by peaceful protestors lobbying for impartial authority, and looters with an obvious lack of perspective, my city is loosing traction in a much needed argument for change, lost among stories and photos that more resemble a war zone than where I used to sell Girl Scout cookies.

Justice for Michael Brown extends beyond the arrest of Officer Darren Wilson, it requires equity not only racially, but socioeconomically, it demands a sincere look at prejudice in the 21st century. Our incompetence to diligently address racism is doing nothing, but contributing to the risk of another town becoming Ferguson, of relentless discrimination by our refusal to confront the plights of provincial intolerance.

                               Me in St. Louis, MO (during the flood of '91)

Friday, August 15, 2014

California Exotics Beverly

Entice Beverly! The curves of the toy are amazing, very form fitting and pleasing.  The clitoral attachment is sturdy, but bends enough it doesn't feel like you have a vice grip on your vagina. The vibrations are rumbly (good), but not the strongest you've ever felt (especially while in the tub). This toy does require 2 double A batteries, but is fairly quiet (which is a nice trade off). The name is weird, but once you get past the fact this toy sounds like the old lady down the street who used to bake you cookies (or that one chick from 7th heaven?), you'll find your senses taken over with pleasure and your body feeling like it's melting into each deep curve. It has multiple settings (I'm a steady pounding kinda girl, I don't need a vibrator to play TAPS on my clit to come, but no judgement if you do, cus this toy does it...well, not literally TAPS).

So, let me know what you think after taking Beverly for a spin. Does she vibrate your stress away?

Friday, August 8, 2014

Top 5 sexy accents: Why accents will always get you laid

It's undeniable that most accents are sexy (sorry people from Mississippi, but no). But why? Why does an inflection or difference in pronunciation get me wet without even having to talk dirty to me? Simple, it's the mystery of it. Each word they utter takes your brain on a mental (and lets be honest, often sexy) escape to another place. If you're on this list, know if I wore panties they'd always be wet when you spoke.

Top 5 sexy accents

5: English

There's something about an English accent that is just sexy. Even if its a "dirtier" (think Christian Bale) English accent, it still can get a lady wet with a simple hello. A more proper English accent sounds as if the Professor you always had a crush on (hello Indiana Jones) is punishing you for being a naughty girl, he doesn't accept late papers normally and if you want to earn a good grade you better beg him for it. Even if you aren't really a Professor on a mission to spank a naught student, your English accent takes ladies to a happy place with the simplest request. Keep that shit up, talk all kinds of dirty to us.

4: Southern

I'm from a small town in Missouri (shout out to Lincoln County), we worked on farms, rode horses, and tipped cows for entertainment. A sweet southern accent takes me home and to my happy place. Reminds me of warm nights with hotter boys, laying in fields and making plans we never cared to actually keep. There is a sweet sex appeal to a southern accent, that hints at a gentleman with Gone with the Wind worthy manners. A man that will open the door like a gentleman, and then smack our ass hard.

(Fun fact: When I'm drunk enough, my accent slips out)

3: Russian

Maybe it's because I used to drink so much vodka I couldn't function, but I've always found Russian accents extremely sexy. Okay, maybe it's also just that I grew up watching way too many James Bond movies and wanted to be one of his clichely named pieces of ass (Ima Blowhard?). Either way, I've always found the harsh tones of a Russian accent to be commanding. Boss me around, Vlad.

2: Scottish

The thing about Scottish accents is I really can only understand about every 3 words. It reminds me of that episode of Sex and the City when (shocker) Samantha fucked some Scottish dude, despite not being able to really understand what he was saying to her. I don't really need to understand you for us to have sex. Example of sexy Scots: Craig Ferguson and James MacAvoy are both welcome to call me dirty names and slap my ass...preferably at the same time ( *wink* Call me)

1: Irish

Being an Irish-American, redheaded, pale skinned, former alcoholic, I'm sure the reason I find Irish accents sexiest of all is because I'm a narcissistic little bitch. Despite that, an Irish accent can soak a girls panties faster than I can down a shot on St. Patrick's day. Most ladies will tell you that an Irish accent sends them to all kinds of sexy places they didn't even know their mind wanted to go.

Even if you don't have any of these accents, try putting one on. Even if it isn't the BEST version, she'll appreciate the play and effort. Try a little Russian and see if it leads to some hardcore blowing?

Wednesday, August 6, 2014

Long Distance Relationship: I moved in without asking

I believe relationships should blossom naturally and no one should feel pushed into anything, be it moving in or marriage or kids (sorry to those of you who got trapped with a baby). I also feel that after a certain amount of time, if one partner is keeping you at the stage you were at say...4 years ago, you only have 2 options. Get the hell out or do something batshit insane.

Here, have a photo of me with my boobs out to entertain you while you read all this.

It's presumptuous of me to assume anyone who's stumbled upon this blog follows me or my relationship close enough to just know what the hell I'm talking about, so I'll give some back story.

I joined twitter in late 2010 after a shitty break-up. The guy and I had only been dating three or so months, but I was 21 and -unbelievably- more gullible then than I am now. What was originally a Twitter handle for bitching about my job quickly became an outlet for my sarcasm and snarky comments. Apparently, people dug it (thanks, y'all).

Somewhere in the early weeks of 2011 a follower (just one fish in the sea) kept @'ing me. Tweets from strangers was nothing new, I [generally] enjoy conversing with followers, this one was obviously cute and flirty, but seemed the same as all the other simple tweets. And then one day, he asked me to drinks. I can't say there was anything SANE about getting in my car and driving across my state to take him up on a poorly made $4.00 vodka Collins at Carabba's, but I just...fucking did it.

Now, after 4 years, we've both done a lot of changing and growing. We're far from perfect and 4 years of long distance (he's lived in 3 states in 4 years, the furthest being over 1800 away) has left scars on each others hearts, but it's also made us into a stronger couple, into stronger people. It's made me into a woman I never imagined I could be (I mean that in a totally awesome way).

A few weeks ago I did what is nothing short of insane. After 4 years he still wasn't budging. We didn't live together, and despite promising a few years prior, my ring finger is still bare as fuck (1.5 karat with a cushion cut halo, boo). So, I knew I had only 2 options; leave the man I loved and everything I'd happily invested over 4 years OR get a one way ticket (without asking) and simply move the fuck in. It took more insanity/bravery than I knew I had in me to go to the airport, toting bags in hand, knowing I had a one way ticket and he had no idea.

The first few weeks were beyond hard. Stress at work for him (coupled with going from living completely alone to sharing everything), my lupus flaring full on, and finding our footing was hard.

 After 4 years together we'd collectively only spent SIXTEEN DAYS together (that's right, go ahead and let that shit sink in, it was shocking to me too). Understandably, the first month was pretty hard. I, honestly, never knew the man I'd been exclusively dating for 4 years was so picky about how things are cleaned, how he acts after a bad day at work, what comfort foods he prefers, which songs he hums. Truth is, I knew I had to move in without asking to determine if we could even handle each others "quirks".

So, what happened after taking what will probably single highhandedly be the scariest/craziest/bravest thing I have ever done?


I'm happy to say he (on his own, without provoking, no really) went and bought us a toothbrush holder, even better he let me pick it out and in my favorite color (turquoise).

I can't say my way was the way to do things. Each person, each relationship, and situation is different. Maybe your boyfriend isn't as patient as mine, maybe you aren't as insane as me. Either way, this new situation seems to be working for us and after 4 long years of waiting, I finally get to wake up next to the man I love every day.

.......No one tell him I took this while he was asleep, no serious


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