Poo & Pussy
Today I witnessed something so horrific...something so completely disgusting...something that will forever be engrained in my mind...poo...poo all over the toilet...the wall...the floor...it was an explosion of poo. Doody explosion.
My son said his stomach was aching so I gave him some Tums. Later he said it still hurt so I told him to try going to the bathroom.
:?|
When a child is quiet for too long, that means something is wrong. Seriously wrong. So I call for him...no answer.
*sigh*
I go upstairs and he shuts the bathroom door.
:?|
"Everything ok in there?"
"Uh huh..."
"Are you sure?"
*silence*
"OK open the door."
*silence*
"I'll huff and I'll puff..."
*click*
He was naked. His face was flushed and he would not make eye contact. The horrendous smell hit me first. Then I looked past him to see the display of liquid poo all over the place like some Jackson Pollack painting.
*gasp*
"Dear Lord..."
"Mom I'm going to take a shower..."
In shock, I whisper..."Good idea baby..."
"And Mom?"
"Yes Darlin'?"
"I think I should lay off the meat."
Um ok. *lol*
So I just got done cleaning it. LYSOL DISINFECTANT came to the rescue.
Ugh.
Now let's talk about my pussy. Leave it to me to wrestle with naming my cat for 3 weeks. My boyfriend and I were laying in bed and he was shooting down every name I was coming up with for Kitty and said "He's white so work off that."
*Thinking he's white so...*
"OK how about Cracker?"
We both started laughing & manfriend says it would be funnier plural so Crackers it was. I thought it would settle but for some reason it just doesn't sound right to me. Maybe it will keep growing on me...but I am very tempted to name him Ziggy Stardust. What do you guys think?
Let's take a poll...look at his pics and vote...Crackers or Ziggy Stardust? Poor thing is going to think his name is Meow.
Mommy, I miss Daddy!
Have a good weekend my freiends!
Everyone but you FUCK OFF
Right now everyone is bugging me. Fucking complainers. Whiners. Whoaez Me'ers. Suck balls! Shit or get off the fucking pot! UGH!
I am so annoyed with everyone but you...and my boyfriend...and myself of course that I can't even think. I am so drained that coming up with anything even remotely witty would be a miracle. I am going out of town to sit poolside like a beached whale for 3 days this weekend so hopefully I will come home fresh and tan. Poor lil meow meow kitty Crackers is going to be alone for 4 days. Luckily Mom is going to come feed him and clean his litterbox but I am worried he will be lonely and sad. I will give him chicken livers when I get home.
I will let you all know how things went and what we did in the desert. Til then...
The Fucking Fuzz
I made it to my meeting three hours late. It wasn't my fault. Fucking traffic on the Richmond Bridge backed shit up to no end and I actually have a little sunburn on my left arm from it hanging out the window in the sun for so goddamn long. I notice that my gas guage is on the little orange line. FUCK. Nothing but bumper to bumper traffic for miles. What the hell do I do? So I see a sign shining ahead like the lights of heaven....Last Marin County Exit. EXIT! Fuckin' hot flapjacks! It took me about an 40 minutes to inch the 1/4 of a mile to the exit, the wind feeling oh so fine in my hair as I fly by everyone off the exit ramp...then I notice SAN QUENTIN, RIGHT LANE. What the motherfuck? Shit! And another sign, SAN RAFAEL, LEFT...I don't want to go BACK to San Rafael and start over in that hell traffic....so I went straight, back on the freeway...and fucking got pulled over before I even reached the highway.
What the fuck?! I made a complete stop!
As the motorcycle cop walks up to my car, all I can think is Have you seen this boy? I so wanted him to pull out a picture of a white kid and ask me that question. It would have made getting a ticket worth it. That's an angle cops should use because they are just doing their job. I know this. But no one wants to get a ticket and if you didn't see a goddamn sign that said that you could not go straight, then what the hell?
"License and registration."
"What did I do wrong?"
"You can't go straight there."
"What? Where does it say that?"
"There are two lanes, the right lane has a right turn arrow and the left lane has a left turn arrow. License and registration."
"I didn't see a sign that said I could not go straight. I was running out of gas and had to pull over but didn't see a gas station so I..."
"If you went left you would have found a gas station."
*grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr*
"If I went all the back to San Rafael, I would have had to sit in traffic all over again to get to Oakland. I didn't see a sign saying I could not go straight, I'm sorry, now I know, please could you give me a break?" I even batted my goddamn lashes for the portly fuck (what the hell is a fatty doing on a motorcycle anyway? Isn't that a hazard?) and he gave me a goddamn ticket anyway! ASSHOLE!!!! I took the citation and my shit back and said "Thank you so much for the break Sparky! Have a nice day!" Glaring at him like a 4 year old who just got her favorite toy taken away. I was wishing death voodoo on him and peeled out. Probably not the best idea as I was parked in gravel so my wheels spun in place...I kicked up gravel and dust all up at him. I could see him squinting with his gloved chubby hand over his face looking like Humpty Dumpty with that dumb helmet on and fading in the dust.
Cite that Fucker.
So even though my uncle was a cop, I have decided I hate cops now. After 8 years of a clean record, 2 1/2 weeks ago I got a speeding ticket on my way home from dropping my man at the airport. My son thought this was the funniest thing he has ever seen.
"Oh man Mom you're so illegal. I can't wait to tell Grampa. BUSSSSSSSSSTED."
:?|
I just got the $111 fine for that piece of cunt ticket. No I wonder how much this fucking dickjob ticket is going to cost me. I am poor dammit! Ugh! Now I have to go to Oakland AGAIN in a few minutes to go pick up my Honeypie and I am thinking about taking my digital camera with me and pulling over at that exit again....take some pics of the poor signage and the ticket trap the CHP have there. I am going to go to court and fight this one folks. Don't ever piss off an asian. We bite. Hard.
Tits you say?
For Boredhousewife and Non-Girlfriend:
Braless Cleavage. Invest. You can finance them. I have ZERO regret! More than happy to discuss any questions you might have, just email me. :?)
Off to Oakland to open a can of whoop-ass on my resident managers. Ahhh the joys of the rat race. :?|
I really am nice.
Promise.
Well...til you piss me off...
Have a good one my friends...!
You are Circus...I am the Freak
Hi kiddies! Miss me? *GRIN*
My boyfriend and I love Mike Patton. Big fans. For those of you who don’t know who he is, he was the 2nd singer of Faith No More, the one who took the band worldwide and on MTV. I guess their most main stream song was Epic in which a fish flops on the floor…*ahem* Anyway, so Patton is always in at least 2 bands at a time so my main squeeze tells me about this new project he is doing called Lovage. Oh man. Fucking love it. I can’t stop listening to it. I always do this with music, I’ll listen to it until I can’t stand it and have to put it away for a while. Maybe I am obsessive compulsive. All I know is they do a kick ass cover of Berlin’s “Sex (I’m a…)” I am a sucker for a good cover song. A really kick ass band back in the day did a fucking great cover of Aretha Franklin’s “Chain of Fools”, still one of my all time faves…that and Stone Temple Pilot’s cover of Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar on Me”.
*ahem*
So in the professional corner, I had a deposition all morning today for this bullshit lawsuit we have with big conglomerate telecommunications company who broke their lease early and wouldn’t pony up for rent and damages. Their attorney was so fucking monotone and dry that I literally had to keep pinching myself to stay awake.
“Yes that is my signature.” I must have said this sentence 50 times.
Bored out of my mind, feverishly craving some mental stimulation, I took it upon myself to grill the court reporter during breaks. I start bullshitting with her (very foxy older gal by the way who had the deepest grey eyes, they literally were smoldering) and asking her questions about her job.
“So you must see some crazy stuff from time to time huh?”
*grins at me*
“C’mon do tell.”
She leans in and tells me about this deposition she was reporting for a divorce and it got so heated, the wife dove across the table and started choking the husband! And another time she said that she was reporting for some rich guy’s drug possession case and he actually pulled out a joint and asked “Mind if I smoke?”
Good times.
The deposition was being held in my company’s conference room and the owner is an avid hunter. Redneck from Iowa. I asked her if this was the first time she had been in a conference room with stuffed heads on the walls. She laughed and said Yes. Toto, we may be in Kansas.
I have been trying to get this crazy woman out of my low income housing building for the last six months. That’s right. Six motherfucking months. What the City created to battle Slumlords, has turned into a weapon to screw Landlords out of rent money. Anyway, so this broad was initially being evicted for nonpayment of rent and then complaints started coming in from other tenants. She had taken to wandering around in the hallways banging on doors and demanding money for rent from everyone who opened their door.
:?|
She would not allow access to the banker’s inspector while we were doing our refi and finally she started sending me hate mail with racial overtones. She had never seen me before but was referring to me as a Chinker loving American who cares not for the smell of her own building. Um, you are asian and so am I, Captain Stupid.WTF. So FINALLY the Sheriff comes to evict her and she had installed THREE dead bolts on her door. Posted a poorly scrawled sign on her door that read “No entry. Security cameras inside!” Once the door was unscrewed from it’s hinges, she threw herself on the floor and tried to handcuff herself to the bathroom sink’s pipes. She slipped and hit her head on the sink and started screaming that she was going to sue for disability and negligence. Yeah it’s OUR negligence that you are a PsychoHoseBeast. Psssshhhhhhhhhh. Handcuffed properly by the Sheriff, she was being escorted out in the elevator and turned her head over her shoulder and gaily said Hello to my field manager. He could not believe it. The same woman who was holding onto the doorknob as he pried it off the hinges and who was cursing him to Hell was now offering salutations? Unbelievable.
The Red Pleasure Dragon
Being an amateur photographer, I couldn’t let those horrible pics stand. A more tasteful and artistic display of the new boobage:
Ahhhh much better. Hey they kinda look like they could double as a great tv tray too. Nice.
*ahem*
9:04 a.m. the doorbell rings.
*opens one eye*
*goes back to sleep*
*doorbell keeps ringing*
Fucking hell balls!
First of all, waking me up early is not highly advisable. They should have known this. “They.” Meaning the house cleaners. I know. Cool, huh? Yeah well I can’t really afford to have them but fuck it, life is worth stretching things here and there to enjoy guilty pleasures like maid service and a Platinum Digital Cable package.
*flings the window open and yells*
“Who the fuck is it?????”
“Ma’am, it is Brenda’s Cleaning…”
*oops*
When I opened the door I felt an immediate surge of guilt and shame. The sweet-faced Russian girl who looks 14 hurried in with her head down and brother in tow.
*fuck*
“Uh sorry about that…I didn’t realize it was Thursday already.”
*awkward silence*
“Um ok well today not my room ok?”
*nods sheepishly*
*sulk*
I am an asshole.
I crawl back into bed and try to sleep but in the short amount of time I was downstairs, my kitty managed to fall into the toilet and was laying on my pillows.
*sigh*
So I threw the pillows on the floor, wrapped kitty in a towel and layed down…
*eyes fly open*
FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!
All of my blood rushed to my head as I realized I left my fucking red dildo in the shower. I heard their footsteps coming up the stairs as I struggled up and tried to race to the bathroom before they could get there. I could have pulled it off if I wasn’t fucking gimped out in boob job recovery! I managed to get there right after they got in there. I very coolly excused myself as I slipped by them, snatched the Red Pleasure Dragon from the shower stall, stuffed it under my robe and glided out as if it was nothing. Did they see it? How could you NOT see a red dildo on the top of the shower slider in an all white bathroom? Borokov, I don’t think we’re in Russia anymore.
Thankfully I had an appointment at the salon just a few short hours later and got to spend the day there lifting and lowlighting my hair to keep my mind off having my housekeepers find my fucking sex toy. Three hours getting my hair done (yes I am a complete color junkie!!!) and then another hour getting my pedicure. I don’t know what it is about salon day…I walk out feeling like I just got laid minus crotchache and sporting a fuck-knot in the back of my head but just as satisfied and relaxed. Times like this, it ain’t so bad being a single parent. Life ain't so bad, so it's hard sometimes...but at least I'm here with him...at least I can do things like this for myself once every seven weeks...at least I can afford a dildo.
Even though I am in pain, taking this week was the best thing I could have done for myself. I have needed to decompress and just have time for myself. I miss my son though. He comes home from vacation at the lake with my folks on Sunday. I can’t wait to see him and I am making an mental note to make sure I remember to always put away The Red Pleasure Dragon after each use from now on so I don't mentally scar my child. Pornscouts Honor.
That ain't swelling
Spending days in a Vicodin induced haze really leaves a person confused and off kilter. I had to call information today to find out what day it was and JUST made it to my doctor’s office to have my stitches taken out. What transpired next still has me in a state of shock.
I was sitting in my light blue gown with the open side facing out, trying to modestly cover my naked body with the flimsy fabric to block out the goddamn air conditioner that was blasting cold air on me while rain fell outside. Are all doctors from fucking Nepal? Is there some reason why examining rooms have to be subzero temperatures? I just had a boob job, my nipples really don’t need to be perked to full attention thank you very much.
The good Doctor comes in and has me stand up and open my gown. Standing naked in front of men should be no problem for an ex-stripper of 8 years but it was about as comfortable as having my annual pap smear.
Looking up at the ceiling and over my shoulder at the painting on the wall, we discussed the weather…
“I can’t believe it’s raining after such nice weather this weekend.”
“Uh huh.” *not making eye contact as he pushes my breasts together creating cleavage that you could park your bike in.
*gasp*
*wince*
Girl walks in.
*wincing confused What the fuck look*
“This is Mary, she’ll be removing your stitches.”
*Great I get to be fucking guinea pig for Mary today.*
*Joy.*
“We squeeze the breasts together like this, put your hands here at the sides of the implants and push them together. You want to be aggressive and the patient will feel pain.”
In the meantime during his demonstration of torture, I am holding my breath in pain and my eyes are practically rolling back in my head.
“Then we push each breast up towars the collarbone. That’s right, straight up. Slowly and hooooold.”
*Getting dizzy.*
*Noticing under duress of torture that Mary’s kinda hot*
*Groan under breath*
*Am completely ignored*
Usually I might not complain about a hot guy and a hot chick feeling me up but in this situation, it was something more along the lines of some sick masochistic nightmare. Their hands were like levers of excruciating pain producing up and down pushing in and up, up and in, ohhh the humanity. I nearly fainted and when I thought I could take no more, they stopped.
*Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh*
“Well I am going to let Mary here remove the stitches and I want to see you next week. Any questions?”
“Um yes, when will the swelling go down?”
“You are doing great, the swelling is mostly gone already!”
“What? They're not totally swollen now? They are going to stay this big??!?”
“Just about. They will drop and settle a bit more once the implants become softer so keep up that massaging (ie Vulcan Death Tit Squeeze from Hell). They'll be a nice D. You look great.”
*He glides out the door*
*Dribble*
Mary removes my stitches and talks about her implants. Mary is worried because she got hers a year ago and never massaged them the way he showed her today. Mary hopes her implants won’t harden. She said they are pretty soft already so I got to feel them. That’s one great thing about chicks with fake boobs, they are always willing to let you feel them up.
So now I am faced with the reality that I have enormous fucking boobs. If the swelling is not going down notably, I am going to never again see my feet without leaning forward. I never again will be able to eat without hunching my back so I don’t dribble in my cleavage. I will never again have to wear a push up bra to summon cleavage. I will never again have to wear a bra if I don't feel like it in public. I will never again have to heave my chest out in futile efforts to confuse them so they don't notice my saggy boobs when I take my shirt off for a lover.
*grin*
I have big boobs.
Howitzers.
Canons.
*GRIN*
Whoa.
Move over Pamela. Rachel and her Boobs invade LA. In theaters this summer!
Vicodin is my friend
Howdy friends. All is well and I am healing nicely. I actually drove around a bit today and went to the pet store to pick up kitty supplies. Mom took me to lunch and we went to Oakland to pick up kitty. Poor little guy was in the crate from 9:30 this morning until 4:30 pm and didn't mess in there. He did however take a big dump on my bathroom floor just 10 inches from his litterbox and threw up next to my closet. Ahhh the joys of owning a cat!
I will post pics as soon as he comes out from under the bed.
Yesterday I came out of surgery and woke up in a recliner with this wonderful airblanket over me that kept warm air flowing through it. It was like being in the womb, cozy and wrapped up. I moaned a little and the nurse who was posted at her station next to me until I was picked up dutifully administered demoral into my IV...I remember telling her I loved her before I passed out again. I woke up a few hours later and felt really no pain at all. I got up and walked to the bathroom, went about 3 times the usual amount since I had so much fluid from the IV I guess and sat down in my recliner and bullshitted with the nurse for another 2 hours. My doctor could not believe how bright eyed and bushytailed I was but they do this new technique where after surgery, the anesthesialogist puts numbing medication at the surgery sites which lasts for 5 to 6 hours. This is why I wasn't in pain. There was some discomfort but really no pain. Friends were calling and I was sounding normal and in a good mood. Holly and I got back to my place and bullshitted for a while...then I started feeling a little pain...then I got a little tired...then it started hurting like a motherfucker. I got into bed and Holly took such good care of me. We got in our jammies and watched Jackass, Wonderland and Minority Report. I made it half way through Minority Report and I was out. I had the best sleep ever. Could have been the muscle relaxer, 2 vicodin and xanex I took. *slobber* So today I woke up feeling pretty damn sore. It hurts quite a bit. All I keep thinking is I should have shelled out the extra $300 for the pain pump that continuously releases pain medication for 3 days. Drats.
After all the swelling goes down, I should look pretty normal. My doctor said I would be a D. Nice. I am 5'8 1/2" so a D would fit nicely with my JLo ass. But for now, my boobs are huge. They are swollen and enormous. I look like a leading vixen in a Russ Meyers movie.
Feel free to send me flowers, chocolate, jewelry or money - all Rachel approved get well tokens.
Type at you farts later.
XOX
R
Tick Tock Tick Tock
I’ve been a busy little bee. I am just about done with painting although I have to skip 2 rooms because the goddamn handyman keeps flaking on me and I don’t have the stain to do the baseboards he put in…grrrrr.
I have a bunch of shit to do around here that my agent wants me to complete to get it Show Ready but I don’t feel like doing it. Eh fuck it. If people can’t understand that people live here, they don’t deserve the place. Besides I have a boob job to prepare for. Speaking of which, it is scheduled for Thursday morning and I am feeling the anxiety now. The clock is ticking. *eek* I am starting to go through the What the fuck am I doing???-thing. I have been through this before so I know it’s normal but it still doesn’t ease the nerve racking Worst Case Scenario thought patterns.
On a positive note though, the Manfriend has offered to come up and take care of me over the weekend. *YAY* He is actually going to fly up here, take an airporter bus to my hick town and then a cab to my house so he can wipe the drool from my chin, feed me more pain killers and coo Poor baby at me while I incoherently mumble under my breath…ahhh romance.
So cross your fingers for me kiddies…oh! Speaking of kitties, I am picking up my new baby Ragdoll kitty this weekend! He will be coming all the way from Washington from an awesome breeder there…
Don’t know what to name him yetbecause I was going to get a girl but found this precious boy…if anyone helps me pick out a name, I’ll buy ya' a drink.
