Cocoa That Will Blow Your Mojo

Tonight, one of my future mother-in-laws made the most decadent hot cocoa I have ever had in my entire life and sent us home with an entire milk container. So of course, as soon as we get here, I go into the kitchen armed with a Sharpie and begin to write "cocoa" on the carton. You know, so we don't accidentally waste a drop of its deliciousness on our Chex in the morning. While I was in the kitchen, Emily slinks up behind me and places her hands on my hips:

Emily - "Hey Love! You look super sexy."

Me - No response. Bend over to focus on the neatness of my handwriting.

Emily - Pressing up against me,"Yeah..that's what I'm talking about."

Me - Fart loudly...die laughing...hit the floor...almost pee my pants.

Emily - "So are you gonna love me up or what?"

What can we conclude from this little exchange?
1. Yes...I am actually THAT hot.
2. Emily has some serious unconditional love for me.
3. Try to get between me and my cocoa, and I will fuck your shit up...or at least blow you away.

Grrrrrrr....Scary Lesbian.

Side - Effexor

Night 6 without Prince Ambien to sing me a sweet lullaby, and I am back to being a certified Insomniac. Not only am I suffering from insomnia, but I am also suffering from a bad case of the crazies. This, my friends, can be attributed to 3 things:

1. I have slept a total of 24 hours in the past 6 days w/out a nap to speak of.
   
2. I have a pretty good case of depression with a healthy dose of "generalized anxiety disorder."
3. In an effort to treat problem #2, I take a little daily pill known as EFFEXOR.

For the purpose of today's blog. I would like to focus on item #3. If I could kick Effexor's ass I would. I would beat his fugly ass until he went cryin' home to his mama. Why you ask? One word...

SIDE EFFECTS

When taking Effexor you should "call your doctor at once if you have any new or worsening symptoms" such as:

• mood or behavior changes: I am a cunt-ass-whore 92.7% of the time.
• anxiety: Uhhh...yeah! I have generalized anxiety disorder. Damn Gina!
  
• panic attacks: So that's what that was a few nights ago when I woke up, thought I was dying and going to jump out of my skin.
• trouble sleeping: Ummmm....Check.
  
• if you feel impulsive: Would an example of this be when I went around our apartment complex at 7:00pm knocking on doors to discover whose mother-fucking car was blocking me in?! I didn't need to go anywhere...it was the principle of it.
  
• irritable: Please see "impulsive."
  
• agitated: Constantly.
  
• hostile: Wanted to bitch-slap the owner of said car mentioned above. Was actually upset that I showed restraint.
  
• aggressive: See "hostile"and note my constant use of the word "Fuck"
• hyperactive (mentally or physically): I've loaded the dishwasher, made some tea, planned a Meetup for my 200+ members, brainstormed the process for starting my own book-club, and am blogging like a maniac and it's only 5:00 am...what do you think?
• more depressed: This one just makes me chuckle.
  
• have thoughts about suicide or hurting yourself: Maybe this is where my new urges to burn and cut are coming from.
• nausea: Yep.
  
• dizziness: Word.
  
• sexual side effects: This is a nice way of saying, "you'll still get super turned on, but good-luck with that cumming thing."
  
• sweating: My face...oh God...the sweating of my face.
  
• dry mouth: Like I've been talkin' to the Ganj day and night.
  
• loss of appetite: Of course...this would be the one side-effect I don't have.
  
• constipation: I wouldn't know a turd if it slapped me in the face and called me sweetheart. (TMI)

WHAT THE FUCK!

Well, at this point my options seem to be limited. I have tried just about every drug on the market and not one of them has worked. I was told by my doctor that this was my "last hope." I assure you, this is not hope. This is a one way ticket to jail or hell cause I am going to end up killing somebody or myself. I've tried not taking it. Within 12 hours of a missed dose the withdrawal symptoms are so intense I can hardly function. Fear not my friends. I have an appointment with a new psychiatrist who we'll call Dr. P. He's coming in at 8:00am on Saturday just for me. Until then, I'll be sure to have Emily keep my straight-jacket straps tight and pray that one day soon my Prince will cum...I mean come.

Confessions of a Sparkly Queen

As we learned last week, I am a "love addict". In addition to this so called love addition, I am also addicted to GUILT. I feel guilty about everything! Didn't let someone cut in front of me in heavy traffic...GUILT. Forgot to say "I love you" before hanging up the phone with Papaw...GUILT. Don't have any chedda' to tip the valet guy, but valet is the only parking option...GUILT. Listen to one CD more than another...GUILT. You see the pattern. So, this morning as I used my blow-dryer I was inspired by this guilt. Why not just put everything (OK...not everything) I have done out there and be done with it. So these are my confessions . Feel free to click the link if you want to rock out to Usher while you read. This will have a much more dramatic effect. Somewhat like a montage.

CONFESSIONS of a GUILT ADDICT

1. Sometimes I smoke a cigarette when I am stressed.
   
   



2. Sometimes I smoke a clove when I feel the need to smoke something else.





3. Sometimes I smoke something else.





4. Every morning when I get out of the shower I blow dry my hoo-hoo. This is something that I suggest everyone try.





5. When I was 8, I accidentally cut my brother's lip (he was 2) when I jerked a toy saxophone away from him. I hid with him in the basement, until he stopped crying so I wouldn't wake up my mom.





6. I don't always brush my teeth, and I never wash my face before bed.





7. In 9th grade I cheated on Dave DeBoard with Jerry Faber. Yes...we kissed, but it was way sloppy and gross.





8. Speaking of 9th grade, Justin "Somebody" felt me up in the hallway before school.





9. I cuss like an ex- sailor who was just made someones prison-bitch.





10. Occasionally I watch straight porn.





11. Occasionally I watch girl on girl porn. It is still straight porn. I don't know a single lesbian who eats pussy like that or fucks while wearing 3 inch fire-engine-red Lee Press On nails.





12. I snuck a McDonald's cheeseburger everyday during the last 6 months that I was a vegetarian. Except for that week when Wendy's had the Carolina Classic ( I couldn't resist the chilli and cole-slaw that was slathered on top).





13. I identify as a Christian, but I don't know what I believe anymore. I am too afraid of burning in hell to not believe in anything.





14. I cheated on a math test my senior year of High School.





15. Once, when my mother wouldn't get out of bed, I threw a lamp at her. Well actually at the wall over her head. She didn't move.





16. In middle school I found weed in my dad's pocket. I hid it in the house and watched him frantically search for it the next morning.





17. I used to go through my dad's pockets.





18. and my mom's purse.





19. I blog when I should be working.





20. Twice I snuck my high-school boyfriend in my room while my parents were downstairs.





21. I will use anything as a toothpick. The corner of a TV Guide works best.





22. In college, I once ate 2 McDonalds value meals then went home and had dinner so no one would know.





23. I only wear 3 pairs of jeans because I refuse to buy another pair in my current size. I wash them once a week.





24. I worry that bad things will happen when an odd number is involved; thus, this is number twenty-four. Just to be safe.

Here Comes the Bride

So around 4:30 this morning, my eyes pop wide open. I look around the room and wonder silently, "What in the hell woke me up...I was sleeping soooooo goooood! Oh, lord, did my neighbor come home drunk again, which means she is screaming like she has a bad case of Tourettes?" I listen. Nope. Silence. Then out of nowhere I scream, "Good Lord...for the love of God make it stop!!!" So, two things are happening here:
1. The worst menstrual cramps I believe I have ever had in my entire life. Fuckin' Eve.
2. LACTOSE INTOLERANCE. Somehow, I thought that drinking a very small glass of 2% milk before bed would be a fantastic follow-up to the glass of wine and chocolate cake I had just before.

Time-out...what is it with me and drinking alongside a delicious baked good? I think this is something for Robert in Friday's therapy session.

So point being, I am pretty sure that I am dying or there is getting ready to be a recreation of that scene in Space Balls when that disgusting thing bursts out of that guys stomach, and someone screams, "Water my ass. Get this guy some pepto-bismol!" Ohhh...wonder if I can find that on YouTube.

So needless to say, I end up in the bathroom, pants around my ankles, in the dark, drinking Alka Seltzer, wild hair, mostly out of it from the Ambien I took, and praying that God will just kill me now. So then my mind starts turning, I find that I do some of my best thinking on the toilet...OK, maybe not best, but definitely interesting. The random chain of thoughts went something like this:

1. If giving birth is anything like what I am feeling in this moment, I will definitely not be having children.

2. Fuck it. I'll get an epidural. Maybe I will have kids.

3. God, I'm getting too old to have kids. Hmmm...if Emily and I could reproduce those would be some damn cute kids.

4. Nah...no kids. Can't have tons of sex when you have kids.

5. Maybe we should get married first.

6. Wonder what the wedding will be like. Totally on the beach. Wonder if lots of people will come. Probably.

7. Hmmm...where will they sit? Ohhh... I know. We could give them white beach chairs as their gifts w/ Emily and Amanda written on them, kind of like Brit-Brit and K-Fed's "Pimps and Hos" track suits. Then they could just keep them and enjoy the beach.

8. Nah...that would be expensive. Plus I don't even want a chair w/ our names on it. Too lezy.

9. What kind of ring would she want (Pause while I stare at the ring finger on my left hand for an un-godly amount of time.)

10. Maybe I should get a bridal magazine. Oh...that would be pointless, all those frilly hetero girls posing w/ those gay models in Armani suits.

11. There really needs to be a wedding magazine for the gay world. You know, what folks are wearing, doing, etc.. OMG....it could be a special edition mag from Curve that comes out like 4 times a year. Like one for each season or some shit.

12. I should totally email Curve about this. Totes.

13. No. That's fucking lame.

14. OH GOD I have cramps. Wonder if I can reach the Alieve in the cabinet. (I get the Alieve). Shit, I don't have any water (I take the Alieve using what is left of my Alka Seltzer.)

15. OH NO! Is that going to kill me? Is that dangerous? (I read the back of the Alieve bottle). Shit...something about bleeding stomach.

16. Whatever.

17. Hmmm, I wonder how many National decisions George Bush has made from his toilet in the White House? A lot I bet.

So...yep. At this point it is 6:00. I wrap things up, wash my hands, grab the heating pad, get back in bed, pass out, and oversleep for work. My first day back in a week. AWESOME!

I'm just happy that I managed to begin planning my wedding (and future children) to a girl I have been dating for two weeks as of today from the seat of a toilet. HAPPY ANNIVERSARY BABY! XOXOXO

Tramp Stamps and Tattoo Dreams

As some of you may know I have a slight obsession with tattoos...I could lick the ones on Emily's body all day...oh...wait...sorry...off topic...let's focus here. So anyways, I have this obsession with tattoos, and if I could I would seriously have them all over my entire body. LOVE THEM. I, however, seem to feel that I can't stray too far from the norm; therefore, I, for several years, kept it simple with a modest flower on my foot.

Then came the TRAMP STAMP!

Good lord people, this tattoo is a cross between satan's axe and something you might find on a 65 year-old stone butch named Bertha in cell block 8. I am not even exaggerating here. Can we just ask ourselves, what in the fuck was I thinking?! This thing gives new meaning to words like DYKALICIOUS and GAYTASTIC. So yeah...I have decided the time has come to cover that shit. I went for a consult yesterday w/ Patrick @ Bombshell. So here's the deal...I'm pretty sure that I am going to go balls out and get the full back piece that I have always wanted. The problem with this is that it is an estimated 10 hours worth of work. I don't even have the patience to take a poop let alone sit for 10 hours worth of tattooing. Now, I'm not totally stupid...I recognize that this will take place over multiple sessions but still DAMN! The sketch should be done Tuesday, so we will see.

Oh...and was the pooping thing TMI? Whatever, you'll get over it.

Meet Hank

When did I become a single,retired, ex-frat-boy named Hank who sits in his wife beater w/ his hand down his pants? Ok...so maybe my hand isn't down my pants (at least not all of the time), but I am really starting to worry about myself. I woke up this morning and was like...hmmm I need some breakfast. I went to the fridge, wife-beater, no bra, hair wild, scratched my ass (just keepin' it real)...

Looks innocent right?

Then...I opened it...

This is soooo not OK people. Can we just analyze this for second. The only thing that is truly edible up in this mug is some Kraft Parmesan Cheese. And if that doesn't do it for ya...no worries...cause there is a giant block of parm in the drawer too. Why in the hell do I have so much fucking parm?! I mean, clearly I haven't been cooking, so on what have I been putting it? There is enough beer and wine for when my homies come over...oh...and a Forty for when I feel street.

So what did I do you ask?

Closed that shit...made some mint tea...and had a handful of M&Ms....DUH!