7.07.2009

TMI Tuesday #194 & 11 years ago

1. Where was the first place you ever had sex?
*This is horrible. It was in the back of a Bronco in the parking lot of Ft. Myers High School after All County Band tryouts. Yeah, us band geeks had our bad side too.

2. How often do you lie?
*I don't lie much. I think being a liar is one of the worst things you could possibly be.

3. If you could only be one, would you rather be smart or good looking?
*I'd prefer to be both, as I've been told I am. But if I had to choose one, I'd choose being smart. You can't be good looking forever......

4. Have you ever passed out or suffered memory loss from drinking too much?
*Back in the day I know I've passed out from too much drinking. I've also not remembered all of what went down. I could remember some, but not all.

5. Top or bottom?
*Both are awesome.

Bonus: Do you have any catalogs for toys/videos/lingere delivered to your home?
*No, but I do have toys delivered to my home. *wink wink* (product review coming soon)

Go here if you wanna play in the TMI fun!

In other news, 11 years ago today, I gave birth to the cutest, bestest little boy in the whole wide world! I remember the day so well. I woke up early to go with my sister, who was visiting from Philly, to court for our brother. I drove to down town Ft. Myers and met up with her in front of the courthouse. We had some time to spare so we decided to grab a bite to eat at a little café. We went in and ordered our food. While they were preparing it, I needed to pee so I went to the restroom. I tried to turn on the light but the bulb was burned out so I called for my sister to come in use her lighter for light. (it's hard to pee in the dark when you're all big and pregnant) She was standing there holding her lit lighter while I was going pee. When I was done, I pulled up my panties and my overalls (I lived in those things when I was preggers) and was just finishing the last clip of the strap when I felt a POP GUUUUUUUUUUUUSH!!! "HOLY SHIT!" I yelled. I think I just pissed myself.

My sister brought the lighter down to the floor and there was a puddle of liquid. She said, "Damn, Sis. You really had to go, huh?" The liquid kept coming out so I knew it wasn't pee. I told her, "I think my water just broke." She said, "Shut the fuck up! You better not be fucking with me like you did yesterday." (I played a joke on her the day before) "No, I'm serious!" We opened the door to get more light and realized that the liquid was green. We both started freaking out because green water can't be good. I asked the girl behind the counter if I could use their phone and I called my doctor's office. When I told the nurse my water was green she said, "You need to get here right away!"

That's when I went into hyper speed. I grabbed my sister and said, "We need to go NOW!" The girl behind the counter said, "Is your name April?" I replied with, "Yes." She said, "I'm Jenny Green, we were in kindergarten together." YAAAAAAAAAAY! Jenny Green! No time for fucking reunions Jenny, I got green water pouring out of my pussy and a baby ready to bust outta this bitch! (complete coincidence that her last name matched the color of my water) I didn't say that, of course. She told us not to worry about paying for the food, we didn't eat anyway, and wished me luck. I asked for a garbage bag because I wasn't going to get amniotic fluid on my car seat. (If you're reading this Jenny, sorry you had to clean up my pregnancy goo.)

My sister grabbed my keys and pulled the car around to the front of the café. I laid the garbage bag down on the passenger seat and hopped in. She looked at me and said, "Ok, which way do I go?" I thought oh fuck no, this place is a bunch of one way streets. Not to mention that my car was a stick, which she wasn't the best at. I told her, "I'll drive!" We did a Chinese fire drill, me carrying my garbage bag and off we went. I was a pregnant Jimmie Johnson flying down the streets. We got to the hospital and many pushes and hours later, Ethan Tyler was born.

Happy 11th Birthday, Boogie!

The End.

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7.03.2009

I'm new

I went to McDonald's to get my crack (see: sweet tea) and was waiting in line behind a gentleman. The girl working at the register appeared to be in her early 20's and based on her accent and poor English, it's safe to assume she was from a Spanish speaking country. The man gave his order and his total was $5.72. He handed her a 5 dollar bill along with some change. She put the $5 in the register then started to intensely examine every single coin he gave her. She looked at one side, flipped it over, examined the other side, looked at the edges, over and over for every single coin.

Everyone in line was just staring at her, wondering what the hell she was doing. I thought maybe they've had an influx of Canadian coins (several from me, I know for sure) and they've been instructed to make sure they were all American coins. Finally after several minutes of this the guy said, "Are you checking to make sure they're not fake?" She just looked up and smiled at him. After a few more turns of the coins, she put them in the register and gave him back 3 pennies.

I had already had my money in hand, as I know that my crack is the mere price of $1.05. I walked up, ordered my crack, and handed her a $1 bill and a nickel. She put the dollar in the register and then started examining the nickel, the same way she had with the previous coins. After a few moments she looked up at me and said, "Is this five cents?" I was speechless for a moment. Then I smiled and said, "Yes." She replied with, "I'm new."

WHAT? NEW?? NEW TO WHAT? MONEY? THE FUCKING COUNTRY? Now, I completely understand that when someone comes to this country from another country, they need to learn our currency. However, these are NOT the people you have WORKING THE FUCKING REGISTER!!!!! How did they not know that she did not know what a fucking nickel was? Why isn't she in the back making the burgers? Fast food cannot be fast when the person taking the money doesn't know what the money is worth!

Fucking irritating, I tell ya.

Anyway, I hope everyone has a fun, safe and happy 4th!

Deep Throat of the Day: You won't get any begging like that! (said to the dog, you pervs!)

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7.01.2009

Phantom Pains

Pretty much every single day I experience phantom pains in my foot that's been amputated. Sometimes the pain is more severe, causing my leg to jump. But usually it's just a quick, sharp pain felt several times in a row then it goes away. While it's pretty annoying, it's definitely tolerable. I'm telling you this because of the conversation I had with Ethan over the phone last night. (he's at his dad's house)

Me: "Hey Boogie! How's your head feeling where the staples are?"

Ethan: "Ok, but I think I'm having phantom pains."

Me:(laughing) "Phantom pains? You can't be having phantom pains! They didn't cut your head off, silly boy!"

Ethan: "Nooo, you know where the meat got ripped out of my head? I think I'm feeling that missing meat hurting."

Me: (peeing myself from laughing so hard) "You didn't have any meat ripped out of your head! You just had a pretty deep cut."

Ethan: "OH, so the meat just got split open, not ripped out?"

Me: "That's right."

God I love that kid!

Deep Throat of the Day: Meathead is his new nickname.

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6.30.2009

TMI Tuesday

Tuesday's are great thanks to these people because I don't actually have to think of a blog post. I can just copy & paste their questions and answer them. Done. Finito. So thank you fabulous creators of TMI Tuesday. Now on with the questions.

1. How many speeding tickets have you had? Accidents?
*I have a titanium foot, which I'm not sure how that compares to a lead foot, but regardless I've had more speeding tickets than I can count. I am a speeder. I cannot drive slow. Driving slow causes severe irritation to me. I grit my teeth, curse profusely, palms sweat, and I ride asses until I can go a speed that makes me happy. I am an asshole driver. As for accidents, I've been in 5. One of which was my fault, none of which were due to my speeding problem.

2. Boxers, briefs or commando?
*I wear thongs. On my man I prefer boxer-briefs. They're the hotness.

3. Have you ever had sex in your office or your place of employment?
*I've not had sex in my current office but I have in my 2 previous places of employment. I have keys to my current office so hopefully Joe and I can sneak in one night for some action.

4. Do you or your so own a motorcycle? Do you ever ride one? Do you wear a helmet when you ride?
*I do not own a motorcycle. It's been a long time since I've ridden on one but when I did, yes, I wore a helmet.

5. Ever been skinny dipping?
*Of course!

Bonus: Ever been arrested? Turned someone in/had someone arrested?
*Yes, I've been arrested. Before I moved to Virginia I dated a guy who went ape shit on me one night. Ethan and I were there hanging out at his parents house with him. An argument started and he started beating the shit out of me, so I fought back. At the time I was taking kick boxing so although he was much stronger, I still was fighting like Rocky getting his ass kicked by that humongous Russian guy. His parents sat there and watched the whole thing, just holding Ethan, doing nothing. Absolutely nothing. Fuckers.

He stole my purse and wouldn't let me leave. Thankfully, I had put my keys in my pocket and he didn't know. After he slammed me head first into the concrete driveway, he was in the freezer getting ice. Luckily, the freezer door blocked his view of the front door. I took off running out of the house to my car. The plan was to get to a phone, call the police, have him arrested and get my son. I got into the car, started it and flew out of the driveway. He darted out of the house and ran in front of my car. I ran his ass over and he flipped over my car, just like in the movies. I found a payphone close by and called the cops. They arrived and drove with me to his house so I could get Ethan. He was gone. That bastard took my son and fled from his house on foot. For 4 grueling hours, my son was missing and in the hands of the fucker who just beat me. I was terrified, angry, scared, you name it, I felt it. I drove around the neighborhood, I went to every friend's house of his that I knew looking for him.

I finally went to the police substation, which is where they told me to go to begin with. The cops finally showed up, what seemed to be hours later, and said they found him and my son was ok. Then they told me that because he was so banged up, they couldn't tell who was the victim and who was the aggressor, so they took us BOTH to jail. IN THE BACK OF THE SAME FUCKING COP CAR SITTING RIGHT NEXT TO EACH OTHER!!!

To top it all off, the police told me they were leaving my son with "his grandparents" aka, the bastard's parents who sat and watched him beat me. HE IS NOT ETHAN'S FATHER AND THEY ARE NOT HIS GRANDPARENTS! I told that to the police and they told me I was lying just to be spiteful and they heard my son call him Da-da. His name was Nelson and Ethan called him Na-na. I was furious! Thank goodness my son's babysitter was married to a police officer. Coincidentally, the girl doing the intake at the jail was someone I went to high school with. I begged her to call the babysitter's husband. He met me at the jail and had his wife go pick up Ethan and get him away from those psycho fuckers!

Because those people lied and said that Ethan was their grandson, they charged us with Domestic Violence. In the state of Florida you have to be married or living together or share a child for the crime to constitute Domestic Violence. None of those applied to us. Also in the state of Florida, there's no getting bailed out of jail when you get charged with Domestic Violence. You have to wait to see the magistrate. This happened on a Friday night. The magistrate doesn't come in until Monday morning. I had to spend the entire weekend in jail with crack whores and lesbians with lice who wanted to lick my pussy and wore maxi-pads on the bottom of their feet for padding. It was horrible. A 'no contact order' was placed and the charges got dropped on both of us.

He continued to stalk me. He would be waiting for me outside of my job. He would follow me when I went out. One night I came home from work and there was a card from him on my dresser. Either he broke into my house or he made a copy of my house key when we were dating. Needless to say we changed the locks. All times I called the police, but they never caught him there, so they said fuck it.

Shortly after that I moved to Virginia and never had to deal with him. Well I did have to deal with him in my nightmares for a couple of years after that. I would dream that he found us, broke into my house and stole Ethan. I would wake up in a panic an run to Ethan's room to make sure he was still there. It was absolutely horrible.

So that's my story about being in jail.

As for having someone arrested, yes. I had my ex-husband arrested for punching me in the eye. I have a very normal, healthy relationship now. In case you were like "Damn, she knows how to pick 'em" just know that I'm good now.

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6.28.2009

Staples (not for the weak stomached)

Ethan asked if he could ride his bike to his friend's house and go to the pool with the friend and the friend's dad. I said, "Sure. Just be careful at the pool. Don't do those crazy flips because I don't want you hitting your head. OK?" He understood, gave me a hug and a kiss and out the door he went.

About five minutes later our phone started to ring. Joe answered it and I only caught the end half of the conversation, "Ok, so you're at the corner of Street A and Street B? We'll be there in a minute." Immediately my heart stopped and I just knew it was Ethan. Joe told me that Ethan wrecked on his bike and the lady said he's OK but he's just worried. In a minute we were out the door.

When we pulled up to the house that Ethan wrecked in front of, the whole family of that house was standing outside. The lady was holding a napkin and ice pack to the back of his head. As we walked up to them, I wanted to cry. There was blood pouring down his head, neck and onto his shirt. We introduced ourselves and thanked them for taking care of him and calling us.

Apparently, Ethan thought it would be cool to ride his bike with no hands. He took a turn and wiped out. The people heard him calling for help and did what they could before we got there.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is why you should always wear your helmet when riding your bike, with both hands on the handlebars.

Four staples.

I knew when I looked at the cut and saw how deep it was that he was going to have to have it closed (I thought stitches). Aside from the fearful, devastated, extremely funny look on his face when the doctor said, "We have to use staples to close that up" he did VERY well in that office. He took the numbing needles to the wound like a champ. Thank goodness because I know that if he would've lost it, I most definitely would've lost it too. But he stayed strong and was calm and patient through the whole procedure.

And here I was worried about him hitting his head at the pool.

Deep Throat of the Day: It's nice to know there's still good people in this world.

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6.24.2009

Numbers

I was blog surfing the other day and I came across this post from Isabella Snow at Smut in G Minor. You really should go there and read the post along with the comments. The post asks if the number of sexual partners a potential mate has had bothers you or not. It bothered Isabella because:

"A man who has slept with 50 women has zero self-control, as far as I'm concerned; which is never, ever sexy. That, and he's probably a skank, as well. (Can you say STDs?) I've known men who claim to have fucked loads of women like this and it always makes me sick. Are you guys totally ruled by the cock, or what? If yes, you're not man enough. If no, eh, there's bound to be something wrong with you, so piss off anyway."

In my opinion, anyone who brags about the number of people they've slept with, probably isn't a quality person. Not because they've slept with a bunch of people, but because sleeping with people is how they define their being. Somehow they feel justified by their number.

However, in general I don't believe that someone's number defines them. There's SO MUCH MORE to a person than the number of people they've slept with. To be honest, I think it's ignorant to say 'yay or nay' to dating someone based on that. And really, do you come right out the gate with, "How many people have you fucked?" right when you meet someone? Is this high school?

If I met a guy who was 100% interested in me, treated me great, smart, kind, faithful, funny, good-hearted, and just an all around good guy (which I'm happy to say I have), then really, his number is irrelevant. It doesn't define him. Why should it be important to me that in his past he's had his fair share of women? What's important is that he's interested in ME and wants to be with ME.

As people grow and mature (well most of us, anyhow), you start to realize what's most important to you. In someone's early 20's, maybe they were only looking to have sex; not wanting to settle down. So they meet people who they have chemistry with and sleep with them. Is that a lack of self-control? I don't think so. Saying it's a lack of self-control is the social stigma that's been placed on sex. Too much of it with too many people is a bad, bad thing and apparently to some people, it defines you. I'm sure there are some people who do sleep around because of some mental issues, but you can't pin that on everyone with high numbers.

Someone wrote in the comments that they feel if a person's slept with a lot of people, that person is probably insecure. Well I think that a person might have some insecurities if they need to know someone's number. As a mature adult, I don't feel the need to know these things. I've never asked Joe. Why? Because I don't care. How many women he's fucked isn't what defines him. It wouldn't change the fact that he's a wonderful man who treats me like gold and is 1000% committed to me. It wouldn't change my feelings for him one bit, as it shouldn't.

Sorry if this post was kinda all over the place, as I was having a hard time putting all my thoughts into understandable sentences.

Deep Throat of the Day: I'm getting off my soapbox now.

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6.23.2009

TMI Tuesday

1. Would you stay in a loveless relationship for the amazing sex?
*I have been in relationships solely for the amazing sex. They are empty relationships that do not give me the companionship that I require to be happy. So, no. I would not stay in a loveless relationship for the amazing sex.

2. If you could only have one, which would you choose: love that lasts forever or great, body numbing sex?
*Love that lasts forever. Who is to say that when we're 80 the sex will still be body numbing? Then what are you left with? Give me the love!

3. Looking back at your past loves, which one should you have married/taken back and who should you have tossed earlier than you did?
*Three days before my wedding I had someone profess his love for me and beg me not to get married. Sometimes I wonder what would've happened if I hadn't gone through with the wedding for him. But I also wouldn't take back my marriage, as that helped me grow as a person, regardless of how bad it got. However, I do feel that I probably should've left my ex-husband sooner than I did.

4. If you had one last fuck in you where, how and who would you “give it” to?
*I would most definitely give it to Joe. How and where would depend on my mood. I might want it nice and romantic or I might want it in a public place. I just can't say at this moment.

5. Which is more important sex, money, love and happiness? (and no, you can’t pick’em all)
*For me love and happiness are the most important. Sex and money are great, but they can't give you love or true happiness. In my opinion, anyway.

If you wanna play TMI Tuesday go here.

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