I'll Never Be Lost For Words

I discovered Taxedo yesterday. Oh my word - literally - it's amazing. So, in order to gain the true gloriousness of this website, you do have to download the APP (.exe), but it's so worth it.

Plug in your twitter handle or blog RSS feed, or anything else - you can even upload a word doc - and it will generate this fucking awesome text art. You can choose the colours and layouts and fonts. OK, so you might have sensed the art nerd in me is a bit overly excited - it's because she totally is! The BEST part is that it allows you to save the file in a high resolution format - meaning you can make it into a poster, art print, t-shirt, etc. That, to me, separates it from just another Twitter gimmick to something extremely cool with real functional value.

The very fact that the word SEX is NOT in this has shaken me to my core; I must be slipping.

What this has told me about myself?

I'm a dirty-mouthed, often monosyllabic, intensely emotional person that also laughs a lot and is extremely fucking polite. 

Who knew?!

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REVISED

I uploaded my own words; it's much more fitting - don't you think?

What's a 4 Letter Word that Starts with C?

It's 'CAKE', you dirty birds...

OK, so it's 'cunt' as well; it's actually both today. Let's agree to call it a tie, shall we?

This weekend was fantastic and I want to take this time to thank all of you for your awesome comments from my latest installment of my Jeremy saga.

I promised one lucky comment-leaver a legendary Cunt Dragon Mug - and so I shall. The very, very lucky winner was comment #12, which happened to be Ms. Pamela Gold. Come on down and get your prize. Well, just email me, but you get the grandiose imagery I'm going for, right? TA-DAAAA!!! YA!

Yes, Pamela, I believe you DO owe me a tit, but luckily, I've already got 2 big ones, so I'll let you keep yours... for now. If for some reason I happen to lose one in a bizarre fishing accident or unfortunate jello wrestling injury, I'm totally going to hold you to it, ya here me?! Congratulations, anyway :)


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This Monday's theme for MMMM is Bands/Singers with only 1 name. There were a few that came to mind, but CAKE... well, it just fit so nicely with my lovely C words of the day.

This video cracks me up as well. And, yes, it's the official video. Awesome.
"It's something a super girl or feminist would approve of, or somethin' like that... they're trying so hard to be important by being noisy." That weird dude rocks.

Jeremy's North American World Tour

If you are a new reader, you might not have read the first installment of the legendary Lady Estrogen and Jeremy London imaginary conversation. Have a quick read, because like most sequels, apart from being tragically inferior to the original, previous plot lines are often referenced, so to have seen the original BEFORE the sequel is usually a good idea... unless you like being confused... if so, by all means, read on.

Lady Estrogen is sitting in a dark leather chair with an identical one across from her and a low coffee table sits in between; she is waiting for Jeremy. She is leaning over the table, reading the newspaper when he arrives and he collapses into the opposite chair with a deflated sigh.

Lady Estrogen: Welcome back! How was your trip?

Jeremy London: Exhausting and a little bizarre; I'm still recovering from it all.

LE: So, visiting your fans wasn't what you thought?

JL: To put it mildly.

LE: Well, don't keep me in suspense - show me the damn photos!

JL: OK, so the first stop was to meet Barbara in Ohio. She was ready and waiting when I arrived.

LE: She did her hair all pretty like, just for you. Aweeee.

JL: She slobbered on me... (winces) and it tasted like spam.

LE: Yum.

JL: Then this guy, Darren, told us to meet him in the forest somewhere in Northern Michigan; it was a little off-putting.

LE: I'm sure it was.

JL: He asked if he could kiss my pegasus. I still don't know how he knew I had a pet miniature pegasus.

LE: I don't think he said 'Pegasus', Jeremy.

JL: Well, he seemed to enjoy giving Persephone a little smootch.

LE: Persephone?

JL: YES! What the hell would you call YOUR pet pegasus? 

LE: I never really thought about it. I'm just impressed by your alliteration skills.

JL: You're a bitch.

LE: What can I say? You bring out the best in me.

JL: AAAANYWAY, we then met up with this Raymond character in Sault Saint Marie. His house smelled like moth balls and dirty boxer shorts; I tried not to be more than 4 feet from any given exit route.

LE: I like his glasses - très sexy. Are they Transition lenses?

JL: Seriously?

LE: What? It's a genuine question.

JL: I don't fucking know, nor do I care. I'm just relieved I got out of there without him pushing me into a hole in his basement.

LE: I would have saved you.

JL: Whatever. After I left his place, I took a hot shower and scrubbed the creepy off me.

LE (winks): I'm sure he took a shower too.

JL: Thanks for that; I think I just threw up in my mouth a little.

LE: It's one of my many talents; I've gotta be me.

JL: Please, for the love of fuck, don't start singing.

LE: Ugh. FINE.

JL: Then, we made it to Toronto just in time to witness the Slut Walk; it was good times.

LE: I'm sure you were a big supporter.

JL: Anything for a good cause, right? I tried to enjoy it from a distance.

LE: What's wrong? Too scared to mingle up close with the local sluts?

JL: I never said I was a man of the people... just a man FOR the people.

LE: That's from Gladiator.

JL: Shit.

LE: You should know better than to try and sneak a movie quote passed me. I mean, really, Jeremy. It's like sometimes you don't know me at all.

JL (rolls his eyes): Anyhow, I have to get going.

LE: You just got here! You're always in a hurry when you come meet with me.

JL: What can I say? YOU bring out the "I just remembered I gotta be somewhere else" in me.

LE: It's a fine line between love and hate, isn't it? 

JL: Yup. I balance that shit like a ginger midget on a tight rope.

LE: You just HAD to throw in a midget reference, didn't you?

JL: It's all apart of that same fine line.

LE: Saint Jeremy, slayer of cunt dragons and lover of ginger midgets.

JL: Don't try to bring that stupid shit up with me again, I'm NOT going to do a movie about cunt dragons.

LE: Even if it was an Arthouse flick?

JL: Look at my face.

LE: I'm looking.

JL: What is my face telling you?

LE: That you're annoyed with me and ...also? That you actually love cunt dragons. Am I right?

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In honor of my 200th post, and because Jeremy London is such an awesome sport about all this, 

I'll be giving away one of my infamous Cunt Dragon mugs! YAY! 

Everyone that leaves a comment will be entered into the draw. GOOD LUCK!

Wordless Wednesday: Nature's A Whore

Seriously? Awesome.

Somewhere-the-fuck Mountain, Victoria, AUS

Also?
Please try to check in on Friday for my 200th post - a very special guest is stopping by and there might 
also be a giveaway that is "directly related" to the post. Confused? That is my plan, after all! 
You'll have to wait until Friday to be enlightened, suckaz! I'll give you a hint: It rhymes with "stunt wagon".

Twice the Tears

ONCE
I hope everyone had a fabulous Father's Day weekend! Although my mother re-married when I was 5, it's always been one of those bitter-sweet days for me... along with my birthday... and Valentine's Day... and really, I could go on.

I did a special Father's Day guest post over at Scary Mommy. Have you heard of her? She's kind of a big deal ;) The feedback thus far is that people have really enjoyed seeing my "snugly side". Ah-hem. Don't get too used to it! She's like a rare purple unicorn - and she only comes out on special occasions. Don't bother trying to photograph her for proof of her existence - she can smell a camera from a mile away. 

And to counter-balance all my gooey sentimentality... whore, bitch, skank.

Whoa. That felt better.

----------------------------------------------------

TWICE
I have posted an older video by Marianas Trench back in February that is a lot more up-beat. Today's song has a completely different feel and affect on me. Although I do think the video is fantastically well done to the point where it's really more like a short film, it's the actual song that really gets to me. Let's completely skate over the fact that Josh Ramsay looks a lot like Jim is uniquely mesmerizing... however, he could do with a little hair cut and less eye makeup in the 'modern' portion of this video. His hair looks like the Beiber-hairstyle fucked an angry blue porcupine on crack and Josh's hairstyle was the result of that transgression. What's that saying? Two wrongs don't made a right... indeed.

Anyhow, I'm wavering. Back to my point - the song! His lyrics are simple, but so honest and genuine. The strangest part is that I usually despise "cheesy duets" but, shit, it's caught me hook line and sinker.

I wrote this on The Twitter last week, to which I was referring to this song.

Am I going to tell you approximately how many times I've watched/listened to this song?
Jesus Christ, man, there's just SOME things you don't talk about in public!*

And so I put forth this question:
What song can reduce you to a puddle of emotional snot?

Me? There are so, so very many! But currently, it's this one.



*Jason Lee, Mallrats

Camp Guilty

My mother always told me that I had "one of those faces" that always made me look guilty - even when I hadn't done anything. I didn't really get into a lot of trouble growing up, but I sure had my moments; when I went out, I went out with a bang, bang, bangity bang ba-bang!*

In grade 8, there were two fairly major trips that we looked forward to: the Quebec trip and the camping trip. Every grade 8 class for decades had been going to the camp that our school district owned; it was the traditional 4-days and 3-nights 'right of passage'.

We all arrived excited and ready to do all the camping-oriented activities... but what was really the best part? The nights by the camp fire, or more specifically, cozy co-ed nights by the fire. It was a huge deal for most hormonal pre-teens, such as ourselves.

The first day when off without a hitch.

We did crafts.
We orienteered.
We went rowing.
We did lame-ass group trust exercises.
We sung songs around the campfire - awe, so snugly.

Of course, the only guy I wanted to snuggle with on that trip was the counselor, who was 21 and mighty fine. What can I say? I had good taste. What's 8 years difference anyway? When he's 48, I would be 40 - no problem! I guess I didn't win him over with my 13 year old feminine wiles; which in hindsight is probably a good thing, because that would have made him officially a pedophile... but I digress.

Time for bed; lights out.
There was only one rule: Girls stay in their cabin; boys stay in their cabin.

I still don't know who had the Jason mask or how the hell I got a hold of it, but about 1/2 an hour after "lights out", I put on the glow-in-the-dark mask and left the girls' cabin. I crept up to the windows of the boys' cabin like a lioness approaching her prey and then I jumped up and in my scariest voice, I yelled:

"ALL YOU MOTHER FUCKERS, GET READY TO DIE!" 

OK. So, as you can well imagine, they all went berserk; I was a god damn legend that night. My shit-disturbing antics then caused them to open their back emergency door, leading to the girls' adjacent emergency door... which was then, of course, also opened. It rapidly escalated into a complete free-for-all.

Pure unsupervised pubescent chaos.

The next morning, the teachers gathered us all together and we were told we were getting sent home; the entire class. In the past, they had had to send specific students home, but NEVER the entire class.

Not once in over 30 years.

The best part? For some miraculous reason, I was never busted or ratted out as being the main instigator. I guess on that particular morning, my guilty face blended in nicely with everyone else's.

* Bang Bang Bangity Bang Ba-bang is from How I Met Your Mother - watch the song here - so damn funny.

Move Over Struzan, There's a New Bitch in Town

Well, maybe not. But I thought it was time I combined my talents obsessions into one piece of work. Movies, Design and Humor - what more could a girl ask for in order to entertain oneself at 1 o'clock in the morning? So, yes, just in case you're slow to the plate, and to cover my ass, this poster is 100% F-A-K-E. Satan bless the internet for good quality celebrity images for me to lift.

Like the title? I could so see it working! It would be one of those Rom-Coms that reveals all the awesome jokes in the preview but then flattens out a little in the full feature. You know, because it has a few slow bits and drags ever so slightly in the middle. 2 1/2 stars, I'm thinking, possibly 3. Of course, it would have been my screenplay as well, so I am my worst critic.

* Drew Struzan is a graphic artist that has done over 100 movie posters, including Indiana Jones, Star Wars and Back to The Future. He is a god & telling him to move over is blasphemous - which, of course, is why I did it. I love blasphemy.

A Chastity What Now?

When I worked in retail, or worse yet, at Walmart, any simple thing could help pass the time; distractions were always welcomed whenever possible, such as new video games in the Electronics Department, or trying on all the low quality diamond rings in the Jewelry Department.

Now imagine a distraction that had a penis hanging between his legs. Oh, baby!

Stefan was the reason that got me to drag my ass to that soul-sucking job for 15-20 hours a week. He was not the usual bad boy that I was drawn to. He was soft-spoken, clean-cut and had the most kind and soulful eyes. If I had to liken him to anyone, it would have to be Agent John Myers (Rupert Evans) in Hellboy. Sometimes I think that maybe my standards changed slightly because anything was better that the sweaty 400lb Customer Service Manager that I worked with, but regardless, he was some degree of hot on anyone's scale.

Also? His name was Stefan Ferrel and since I was Stephanie Farrell, it was an additional turn on; I enjoy funky shit like that. Trust me, the weirdest one is yet to be written.

There was a road block, however. A giant, annoying road block and her name was Martha. Martha also clearly lusted after Stefan. The two of us would compete for his attention - or rather - she would compete with me. As I have mentioned before, I'm built like a brick shithouse, but this girl had an additional 4 inches on me, both in height and width. Yeah, yeah, size doesn't matter - BULLSHIT. For once in my life, I was SMALLER than the competition. Call me what you will, but I enjoyed that shallow and rare ace in my pocket.

Martha would have been that keener that sat in the front row in class; she answered every question and wore nothing but Northern Reflections jogging pants and sweatshirts with snowflakes and bunnies on them.

Yes, that was her.

As for me? I had pixie-short BLUE hair, an eyebrow ring and wore fitted ringer t-shirts that said things like "Etch A Sketch: The World's First Laptop". Needless to say, this girl got on my nerves, which was only compounded with her lame attempts to set me on fire with her death stares. Paaaaa-sssshhhhhaa! Easy there, killer.

Finally, I got an invite to go out with Stefan OUTSIDE of work hours. I was so fucking excited; it had been months, which was longer than I usually invested into a conquest.

Almost the exact same time I showed up to his place, Martha pulled up behind me! What the hell? Apparently, it wasn't a "date" but a "friends" outing to which he invited us both. I was livid and I wanted to kick that sasquatch back to whatever forest to whence she came. We uncomfortably hung out at his place for a few minutes, trying to pretend that the other wasn't there. For the first time I noticed that Stefan was wearing jewelry around his neck; I was intrigued, "Oh, what's that?"

"Ah, yes. It's my Chastity ring." He said very proudly and sincerely, "I don't like wearing it to work in case it gets caught on anything."

Whoa! Back up there, sport; your chastity what now? That is what I was thinking, but in reality, I just stood there and grinned like it didn't totally make me want to claw my own eyes out in frustration with the corner of the condom wrapper I had in my purse.

Saint Martha Sasquatch chimed in while waving her pudgy ring finger, "Oh yes. I have mine too!"

Of course you do, Martha. Of. Course. You. Do.

Right then I realized I had just wasted 3 months of my life with a couple of Kumbaya-singing mother fuckers that I would never get back. I looked at my watch and made up some bullshit story; I didn't even bother with attempting to be believable. "Ugh. I just remembered I have an essay I have to do for tomorrow! You crazy kids are going to have to have fun without me."

I saw a grotesque smirk appear on Martha's face while I was making my swift exit, but I didn't care; I let her have her sad little moment. Bitch, you could HAVE him! The only time I wanted a guy praying to God was if he was trying not to cum too soon while I was riding him like a mechanical bull.

Chastity ring, indeed.

Five Funny F*ckrz

I have noticed one thing over the last year and a bit while visiting other blogs - once I read them... once we all read them, there are gone the next day, added into the blog pile archive. I find this a little sad, because it's obvious that people put A LOT of effort into theses posts/features. I really wish I had started this earlier, but I guess it's better late than never, right? It's not going to be regular, but I'll start a running tally and whenever I get to 5, I'll post them.

Here are 5 things that I really had a good laugh over; I feel like it's only right to give them an extra pat on their backs for their spectacularly funny shit! Actually, screw the back patting; I'm more of a congratulatory smack on the ass kind-of-girl - so let's go with that. SMACK! Way to go, funny fuckers!

1. bigwords: The Tampon Revolution: Top 7 Ways To Modernise Tampons
It starts off guns blazing even with the disclaimer:
* Warning this post contains the word tampon. It may offend some people who don't use them.
For the record, I vote for Penis-shaped.

2. Comediva: I'm a Girl and I'm Funny, Yo
I want to be them when I grow up. True Story.
"Do my routine - it kills! There's no dispute. Oh, and I got a dog, ya; he's fucking cute!"


I'm a Girl and I'm Funny, Yo from Comediva on Vimeo.

3. Midget Man of Steel: I Google Alphabetically
I really don't know what's funnier - the weird shit that people type into Google OR the smart ass comments from Moog. It would at least have to be a 40/60 split. It's all hilarious! Also? I'm convinced that he does not work while at "work" - even less than me - and that is saying a lot.

4. I'm Gonna' Kill Him: Textual Healing
Some insightful shorthand texting that would be helpful to any good marriage. I know I'm going to have to teach my husband a couple, if not all of these gems. My personal favorites:

HIM: SFC? (Stop for Condoms?)
YOU: NSFIC (Nah, Stop for Ice Cream)

HIM: AYSM? (Are you spending money?)
YOU: LTAWIS (Let’s talk about what I’m saving)

5. Toy With Me: Exactly Like That Scene in Pretty Woman. Only Totally Different
Yes, exactly because it happened to her, and NOT to me. My favorite excerpt:

"I looked a little bit like Helena Bonham Carter
and not in a fun, Bohemian crazy lady way, but in a Bride of Frankenstein on
crystal meth kind of way."

It's hilarious because I've got that visual in my head and it's super sexy, yo! It is a bit odd that she sports that look in a lot of her movies, now that I think about it, but I won't digress.

Have a fantastic weekend, party people!

An Ode to Summer

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

White Girls Eat Hot Dogs

One of my best friends in elementary school was from Hong Kong. Her family had moved to Canada when she was 3 years old, so she had a little bit of an accent, but her English was great. Her mother, on the other hand, did not speak English. Whenever I would go over to their house, she would do one of two things: Either smile and nod her head quietly in my general direction; or yell at Zoe at the top of her lungs.

Or at least I always thought it was yelling.

I was only 8 and to be honest, that women scared the shit out of me. I just assumed she was angry all the time - or even worse, angry that I was there. Aside from the mother issue, I was fascinated by their house.

The colours. The smells. The décor. It was all so very different from my house.

My favourite was their pantry. It was fully stocked with goodies - well, the bottom 4 shelves, anyway. Every sugary treat of goodness you could think of - and everything I wasn't allowed to have at my own home.

Wagon wheels. Jellybeans. Twinkies. Cookies. Fuzzy Peaches. Coke bottles. You name it; it was there.

I was in heaven.

In complete contrast, the top 2 shelves were filled with items such as seaweed, dried fish heads and chicken feet. They looked like terrifying science experiments to an 8 year old Caucasian girl who's understanding of multicultural food was that Chicken Parmesan was Italian.

Every time I stayed over for dinner, which was often, her mother would make an elaborate traditional Chinese dinner for herself, her husband, her son and Zoe... and then she would place 2 boiled hot dogs with ketchup on my plate. I never questioned it; I was being polite... and I was 8.

Every. Single. Time. It was a damn good thing I liked hot dogs.

It took me THREE YEARS before I finally got the courage to ask my friend about her mother. It was just after she had yelled at Zoe through the wall, in her usual fashion:

"ZZZOEEEE, NÊN XIANG CHI RÈ GÔU MA?"

Zoe slightly rolled her eyes and replied to her mother, "Ya, ya!"

"Zoe! Why is your mother so angry at you all the time? Did I do something wrong?"

She looked at me like I was an idiot. "Nope. She just wants to know if you want hot dogs for dinner."

And I Keep On Trucking

So... yes! It's now definitely been one year since I began this whole blog journey. I haven't really kept track - mainly because I didn't know it would be important. (And don't ask about just checking my earliest post date because thanks to my O.C.D., I re-arranged and fucked all those up ages ago.) It's been a fantastic ride so far - with only isolated incidences of turbulence. It really has taken on a life of its own - something that I never expected. Nor did I ever think I would gain such amazing, funny and loyal readers.

YES -- YOU!

*muah*

I didn't do any research before I began. I didn't know about subscribers, linkys, memes, or any of that shit.
I began this blog, originally, for two reasons.

ONE: To have a place where women could share their embarrassing stories from when they were growing up - so other young women could read it and perhaps not feel so alone and not thinking that they were the only ones going through all this insanity. Even though I had a great relationship with my mother and also had close friends, I still often felt very lonely with all the things that were happening to my body, and to my sex life - both of which were foreign and bizarre.

And...

TWO: To get my damn book done. It's been in pieces for the most part of a decade now, but finally, after this year, I've managed to get it into 185 pages of semi cohesive prose, so far. Yay!

Here's the catch for the first point, however... I couldn't for the life of me get anyone to contribute their stories. It was like I was asking for kidney donations - so I had to write all my own stories and experiences, almost exclusively. The up side to that was, as it turns out, I'm a fucking head-case with a couple affairs of my heart that I need to seriously work through. Perhaps I'll never really "work through" them, per se, but at least here I can express my love, my loss and my secret desires.

I've only managed to publicly upset and piss off ONE out of 87,683 views. Yes, it was a big one, but still, the odds are definitely in my favor - wouldn't you think? My nausea has finally subsided over the whole thing, and that right there is cause to celebrate, if for no other reason but that one.

Another added bonus is that I can also demonstrate both my juvenile humor and quasi-explicit adventures that I quickly have become known for. What can I say? I've done my mother proud, twofold.

If you are a new reader, HELLO THERE!
Here are a few highlights from this past year that I feel are a good well-rounded reflection of what I'm all about, what I'm trying to express, and what lengths I'll stoop to in order to make myself you laugh and/or cry at my idiosyncratic musings.

How the drama all began. He's Totally The One
Agent! Where's my agent? The Teddy Bear Diva
The screenplay in progress; how I got my name. A Promise to Keep
I guess the writing was on the wall, really. My First Dildo
Hello. My name is Lady E and I have adult acne. Pizza Face with Extra Bitch
I'm a Cunt Dragon. Didn't You Know?
A splash of crime, music and sex to finish off the day. Jane Stole My Addiction

THANK YOU FOR READING, TRULY! 

Here's to another fabulous year of stories, sex, stupidity

and as always... my shame.

Self-Amusement is Hereditary

I would never consider myself a comedian by any stretch of the word, but I'd like to believe that I have my moments. Why? Because I am constantly laughing at myself. My mother hated using "send her to her room" as a punishment because I gladly went and always managed to successfully entertain myself... for hours.

What shocked my mother the most, and to her horror, was when at a very young age, I started to tell jokes and would follow the joke with a few minutes of uncontrollable laughter... at myself. Apparently, my father did the exact same thing, as did his father before him. I was aware of my grandfather doing this - his belly and shoulders would vibrate and his face would turn a deep purple while telling a joke; he often couldn't even make it to the punchline. According to my mother, my father was even worse.

This is deliciously amusing for me, since I never met my father.

Take that Nurture -- Nature just smoked your ass!

Every time I come up with something that I personally find utterly hysterical, I'll often share it with my mother, with the usual response consisting of eye rolls and an, "Oh lord! You are such your father's daughter."

I find Twitter/Twitpic is by far the worst for enabling my predisposition to self-amusement - so I'll have to give you a few examples of this genetic flaw talent flaw. I'd really like to think I've done my father proud.

1. I made this caption for the "big non-event". Can you believe I actually found that drawing? Oh, how I love the internet; let me count the ways. Someone pointed out that it's not actually a "raptor" - Want to take a guess on what I say to them? 

Shut the hell up, Ross Geller, Ph.D.! Jesus + Dinosaur = Awesome.

2. Then, one of my tweeps, Melissa (@rockdrool), mentioned that her son is insistent that The Beibs is really named Justin Beaver... so I came up with this t-shirt idea. Double entendres make me giddy - especially when it's me who thinks of them.

3. And finally, A Belle, A Bean & A Chicago Dog did a "Senior Hottie" link up which was a fabulous idea. Unfortunately, due to a conflict of interests and a likely nuclear fallout if I posted my real photo on here, I found a sexy substitute to post on twitter instead. What do you think? HOT! Right? It's the ONLY way to go to prom, truly.

So. Much. Laughing.

I guess the ultimate conclusion is that whether or not anyone actually clicks on my twitpics that I post or not, one this is certain - I'm sitting on the other end, uploading my jokes/photos while LMGDMFFAO*... at myself. 

It is all my father's fault and for that, I'm giggly and grateful.

*Laughing my god damn mutha fukkin' flabby ass off - Watch out, it's totally gonna be the next big acronym!

So much more laughing.