Posthumous. Isn't that a dip?

Oh, Whitney, Whitney, Whitney.

I thought I was going to be able to hold my tongue and mourn in silent protest over the passing of my number one biggest role model from when I was a girl.

But the slander just keeps on rolling out. I really didn't want to see her coffin photo.
Or the crime scene photos either. But they are rammed down my throat at every turn. I couldn't even load my groceries on to the conveyor belt (with my children in tow) without seeing images of her sprawled out in the tub.

STOP THAT!

Why? Well, besides the fact that it's macabre and disturbing, it is completely fucking irrelevant.

It's the pettiness and judgmental douche bags that are making me ill. If she died quietly in her bed from a long battle with cancer, I'm sure we would be hearing an entirely different tune. It would be the Whitney Lament, not the Whitney Torment.

She's dead, mother fuckers. Let it go!

And it is nothing new. I'm not shocked in the slightest; I'm just annoyed.

I just wish people could focus on the amazing music that will live on as her legacy. That's how we remember her. It is how we SHOULD remember her. Everyone has their demons to bear, and whether it's because of their genius or because of their fame that magnifies it... it is tragic.

Michael Jackson.
Kurt Cobain.
Keith Haring.
Elvis.
Jimi Hendrix.
Karen Carpenter.
Oscar Wilde.

Imagine if Van Gogh cut his own ear off and sent it to a friend in today's "TMZ society"!
Or the fact that Gauguin likely gave a third of the native female adolescent population on Tahiti syphilis.
Or that Caravaggio was quite partial to young boys.

But time goes on. And when the paint is dry and the notes are written, that's all that is really important. All the extenuating circumstances surrounding how they lived and died are entirely inconsequential.

When they were alive, they created great art. Art that will live on long after they, and their children's children are gone.

So, to Whitney Houston, thank you for having lived, for having sung so beautifully, and for leaving us with your voice.
It was you that made me fall in love with music.

The Littlest Survivor

Since there seems to be a growing popularity of these special little people on TV as of late, (ie. Last night's midget being tossed into the ocean scene from Survivor that I will be having a nightmare about tonight was very entertaining, and only one step away from being shot out of a cannon, which I'm sure will be next week's episode.) I thought it was quite called for to do a little Flashback Friday for you all. Yes, yes, it's coming out a day early. Shut it! Cars are released an entire calendar year before their model date, so there.

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Picture it: It was a soggy Melbourne winter night in 2000. I had just gotten off work at the dinner theatre where I was bartending and I was waiting for the tram to go home - the last tram of the night. It was cold and I was tired and a bit zoned out when the tram finally glided to a stop in front of me. The doors opened and I briefly looked up just in time to see a tiny flash of red glitter slip and fly on to me. It was a midget, oh sorry, a little person and she had slipped ass over tit from a combination of a wet floor and what looked like 6 inch platform heels.

WHAM! Right on top of me!

Her chunky legs practically straddled my torso while I was laid out on the pavement in a pool of rain water mixed with dirt, oil and god knows what else; knowing Melbourne on a Saturday night, probably an additional splash or two of urine. She quickly got up and was embarrassed equally as I was traumatized, "Sorry, luv!"

I managed to mutter a fake, "No worries" as I peeled myself off the street.

But it WAS a worry - a big motherfucking worry! 

That was the beginning of the end. I was already iffy about little people due to a strange love/hate relationship I had with a guy that was 5 foot nothing (which is a whole other story I'll be getting to later this year), but this incident set me over the edge.

Thus, I am terrified of little people.

There. I said it (again).

I don't like watching them on TV either; I get very uncomfortable.

If I see one in person, I try to act normal, but I usually hold my breath for some fucked up reason. It's not because I think they smell, but I'd like to think it prevents me from hyper-ventilating.

My family and friends are aware of this quirk and absolutely LOVE to point them out to me in public. Yeah, thanks for that... love you too, jack asses.

I'm sure some will misconstrue my phobia as me just being a bigot or some shit like that - well, what the hell would you have me do? I am what I am, and that just happens to be someone who would likely pee my panties if a little person came up to me and gave me a hug. 

Fuck. Sorry.

I'm sure they're all lovely people.

And no, I have never watched The Little Couple. Or Big World, Little People. Or whateverthefuckelse they have on TV.

PS. To The Bearded Iris,
I'm sure once your son gets too emotionally scared tall to tell you about your crotch rot, you can always find... well... you get the picture. Ahem.

I cannie believe it!

Ooooh, Gerard. You sure know how to talk to this lady.

And I accept.

Thank you, everyone that had come and gone, come and stayed, or just come -- 

all because of the smut vomit I have produced over the past 300 posts. Thank you, thank you.

I'd like to think I've written some good shit and that it has become a lot better since post #1, but on a purely superficial level, here are my top 3 "Fuck yeah" moments thus far.

3. When I randomly wrote a post about one of my favorite movies and the band that did the soundtrack to it. About a week later, I got a huge comment from THE MOTHER FUCKING LEAD SINGER. That was pretty fantastic. Yay, Amanda Kravat. You are wonderful! Her songs have meant so much to me for a very long time and still get me through rough times even today.

2. When I wrote a fictional post about Jeremy London because he's great jokes on Twitter, and I finally convinced him to take a photo for me saying that he loves Cunt Dragons. How much did my heart soar? Through the gawd damn roof, bitches!

1. I wrote and directed a music video based on stories that I have written for this blog. Did you hear? Oh, yeah... just in case I haven't whored it out enough. Because, really, how much whoring IS enough? It's really a grey area...

My Backbone? Whoomp! There It Is!

I've never really revealed much about my time as a teacher or why I'm not one anymore. I thought I'd take this opportunity with Mama Kat's "A Memorable Day at Work" theme, because I don't think I will ever forget this day.

A few weeks before, I had been brought into the Headmaster's office with my colleague sitting in the corner with pursed lips and a smug face. It was explained to me that my teaching skills weren't "up to their school's high standards" and that I would NOT be asked back for the following year.

I was devastated.

I loved that school and most of the kids in it. It was my first full year teaching. What they "expected" from me was a load of fucking bullshit. I was (and still am) a perfectionist and I put my heart and soul into that job. I never did anything half-assed. I spent mornings, nights, lunches and weekends helping any student that needed it. But here's the thing...

The morning of my FIRST day on the job, I was asked to take out my eyebrow piercing and I refused. They had 10 weeks of meetings and training with me to ask me about it before that morning. It's not like it was something I could hide. So, of course, I was pretty upset about that. I told them if they had asked me before, I would have taken it out so it would have had time to heal. I wasn't going to have two holes in my face on my first day on the job.

And I thought that was the end of it. But it wasn't.

My colleague, who was more than pleasant at the beginning (she was only a few years older than myself), began being terribly passive-aggressive towards me. I just ignored her. I don't have time for bullshit behavior like that at my work place. And it got worse and worse, to the point it became full out bitchiness and cruel bullying; not to mention she did this in front of the students which was so fucking unprofessional.

So on this particular day, the NEW teacher that was going to replace me came for a visit. I had nothing against him. I welcomed him into what was soon to be his room; I had a class currently underway. I showed him around; where things were kept, et cetra, et cetra. It was a fairly uneventful interaction.

After class, my colleague stormed into my empty room, "How DARE you speak to the new teacher! You have no right!"

And here's right about where 10 months of her under-handed psychological tormenting came to a really big ugly motherfucking head and I exploded:

HOW DARE I? LAST TIME I CHECKED, I WAS A FUCKING HUMAN BEING AND I CAN SPEAK TO WHOMEVER I WANT TO. I AM LEAVING, YOU GOT WHAT YOU WANTED, SO FUCK OFF AND DON'T SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT EVER AGAIN. YOU'RE A BITCH AND EVERYONE KNOWS IT AND YOU'RE JUST JEALOUS OF ME BECAUSE ALL THE STUDENTS CAME TO ME FOR HELP INSTEAD OF YOU AND THAT'S THE REAL REASON WHY YOU HAD ME FIRED. YOU'RE A PETTY AND PATHETIC EXCUSE FOR A TEACHER.

Oh yeah, I went there, and it felt so gawd damn amazing. She stood there, stunned. I had taken her abuse and snide remarks all year. It was the last thing she expected from me, I'm certain of it. Then, she attempted to rebut: "And you with your stupid damn eyebrow ring. You're the unprofessional one. Do you have any idea how much of a disappointment you are?" Oh, right... we're rehashing THAT up, are we? OK...

YOU SAID YOU WERE PROUD OF ME FOR STANDING UP FOR MYSELF, YOU FUCKING TWO-FACED BITCH. YOU KNOW HOW UPSET THAT ISSUE MADE ME. AND WHILE WE'RE ON THE TOPIC OF UNPROFESSIONALISM, LET'S BRING UP THE FACT THAT YOU DIDN'T EVEN SHOW UP TO YOUR OWN ART SHOW AND I COVERED FOR YOU. AND THAT WAS JUST...LAST...WEEK. YOU'RE THE ONE THAT DISAPPOINTED ME. YOU WERE MEANT TO BE MY MENTOR AND FRIEND BUT INSTEAD, YOU TURNED OUT TO BE A SELFISH COW THAT TOOK SOME SICK PLEASURE IN TORMENTING ME. WE ARE DONE HERE.

And you want to know something? That night was the first good night's sleep I had had in months. Sure, I had lost my job, but I said my peace and didn't go out with my tail between my legs. It still breaks my heart that in the end, it was the kids that lost out. They even started a petition to try to get me to stay... which of course, was also my fault that caused "a very awkward situation".

Karma is a sneaky bitch though. That colleague had a nervous breakdown and split from her husband over that summer holiday and she was off work until Christmas. They didn't even get a long-term supply to take her place! I emailed the Headmaster and offered my services once a week to help the students with their projects, since I was already more than familiar with them. And that I would gladly do it FOR FREE.

He never replied.

I win.

The end.

11 Blasted Questions

I said, I said, I said, gawd damn you, Leighann! In all honesty, I loved that she emailed me ahead of time and politely asked me to not hate her for what she was about to do. (Twisting imaginary handlebar mustache) We shall see, Leighann. Weeee shhhall seeeee.

So, here are my answers to that bloggy chain shit thing...

1. There are $3 cupcakes in the supermarket but you have everything to make them at home. What do you do?
Do I look like motherfucking Betty Crocker? I would buy the $3 ones, every time. Wait. Is that for a dozen,  or are they $3 each? Never mind. It just means I'd buy less, like one or two, instead of a dozen.

2. How many pairs of jeans do you own?
This is a bit of an open ended question. How many do I OWN? Probably about a dozen. How many don't fit? 8. How many have giant holes in the crotch? 3. So, that leaves one pair that are currently wearable and I can do up the fly without a pair of pliers.

3. Can you pass up a sale?

Depends on what the sale is for, but for the right thing? No. Sales are my kryptonite. I'll buy 3 things for $40 even if I didn't need any of those 3 items. I come by it honestly - it was passed down to me by my grandmother. My mother slowly shakes her head when the two of us 'sale whores' get together. I also used to use it to manipulate my grandmother last week when I was younger; if I wanted something, I would tell her it's on sale and I would get it almost every time.

4. When is the last time you stood up for a stranger?

I guess I'm a terrible person, because this one has got me stumped. I did, however, stand up to open the hood of my car last week. I helped a stranger boost his car. Does that count? I'm going to go ahead and say yes.

5. What is your pet peeve?
A. Blog chains.

B. Odd numbers

C. The fact that I'm having to pop zits on my face every night like I'm still 14. It's bad enough when it splats on the mirror, but when the pressure is so much that it rebounds back on to my face like banana cream pie? Yeah, that right there. Pet peeve.

6. What is your favourite quote and what does it mean to you?

"What you call insanity, I call inspiration." - Sue Sylvester 

I think it kind of sums me up quite successfully. It's also possibly the best thing that has ever come out of Glee among all those annoying douche muppets.

7. Have you ever had a speeding ticket? Did you try to shamelessly get out of it?

Here's the thing: I may or may not have received a speeding ticket in Upstate New York. The fact that I wasn't supposed to be in the U.S. makes it somewhat of a sticky situation. I will never confirm or deny the truth. Nor will I ever admit to being so nervous that I almost vomited all over the possibly hypothetical State Trooper. Ahem.

8. What fashion DON’Ts did you participate in and STILL secretly love?

I love my Crocs. Fuck you. And you. And you too! Come to think about it, their soles are wearing a bit thin. I need to get a new pair shortly. Maybe I'll photo journal the entire fashion crime in progress. Yeah, baby!

9. How many keys are on your key ring?
I have a lanyard that holds my house key, mail key, car key... and a USB stick. I never leave home without one of those - like a true nerd.

10. Why do you blog?

Because I'm a narcissist that is losing my mind. I thought it would be good to write down all the skanky things I've done before I forget it all. What I never expected is the sense of community and support among other bloggers. This was truly a pleasant and, as it turns out, much needed surprise.

11. What is your sign and do you fit its description?

Seriously? It's a real shocker. I'll let you be the judge:

You have a strong sense of righteousness and are upright, courageous and ambitious. You enjoy a very high stamina. Your arresting personality and jovial nature enhance your popularity. High impacting individual, determined and proud you put across your views and ideas confidently and with an air of authority. Blessed with leadership qualities, you have a strong urge for success and recognition. You tend to put your relationships on high pedestals which makes it easier for loved ones to disappoint you when they fall off. You tend to dominate others with your magnetism and can be haughty, impatient and egoistic.

Yeah, all that and a bottle of lube.

Anyhoozle. Going back to my answer for #5, these chains are totally one of my pet peeves. In fact, last year, I created the STD Award in honor of my hatred for them. I will not be passing this particular one on to anyone. Suck it (I think everyone's got it anyway). BUT, if you haven't got an STD from me and you want one, I am totally willing to pass that on. All you have to do is ask... and come unprotected, of course.

Unfastened Friday 5.0

If you haven't checked out Amy's blog at Coffee Lovin' Mom, please do! I was interviewed and offered up some insightful advice on super hero capes and elephant sneezes. Yeah, you heard me.

Anyways, since my new schedule means that I'll be posting on Mondays and Thursdays, Unfastened Fridays will come a little early. Gawd, I hate that! But seriously, all juvenile sexual innuendos aside, it is what it is. When I got this "if you use this, it must be anonymous" submission, I must admit, I raised an eyebrow... or two. It gets an Unfastened Friday all to itself. Oh, yeah. Loved it, ya kinky freaks!

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It was a long Friday at work and I needed to wind down a bit. My then GF said her best friend was house sitting for her neighbor and wanted us to come over for some drinks in the spa. How could I say no to that?

We got there and the friend already had her boyfriend over and they had a few drinks in them. We followed suit and before you know it we were also pretty buzzed. They suggested that we all head out to the spa and spend the rest of the night out there. Thats where all the fun began...

At first, the time in the spa was pretty light hearted. Normal talking and joking around. As the alcohol kept flowing, we got naughtier and naughtier with the things we would talk about. Before you know it, we were all talking about sex positions and the craziest thing we have done with our lovers. That, of course, made us all pretty horny so we started making out with our lovers.

You know how these stories go, kissing leads to touching, touching leads to rubbing, rubbing leads to full on sexy times. I couldn't believe I was fingering my girlfriend right in front of our friends who were doing the exact same thing right across the way in the Jacuzzi. Soon, I had my girlfriend bent over the side, giving it to her doggie style. Our naughty bits on display for them to see, but they were doing the exact same thing so we didn't care. As a matter of fact, we glanced over every now and again to watch them and caught them watching us too.

The whole session lasted for a couple of hours and still to this day, it was THEE hottest bout of sex I have ever had...

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Thank you, Anonymous. I honestly can't get much further passed "a couple of hours". Jeeeeee-sus. I got tired thinking about it. Rock on! Have a great weekend, everyone. x

The Lie of Happiness: An Illustrated History

I have put session number two of my journey into Crazytown in the bag. Done and dusted. There are so many little stupid things, (along with some fairly major things, I'll admit) that when added all up, seem pretty fucking over-whelming. The longer I talk to other women, both my own age and many from my mothers generation, and even my 90 year old grandmother, it is becoming clear to me that it's not such a new symptom that I originally blamed on this "hyper generation". We have always been miserable and slightly insane, but it's only until recently that we have been willing to share and admit to these feelings.

In short, Mrs. Cleaver was full of shit. She was probably in the kitchen popping Prozac while cleaning up after the Sunday roast she so meticulously prepared as a result of her raging OCD. Just take a look at Bree Van de Kamp - unraveling at the seams of her panties, but her pearls have never hung more perfectly.

We are all a little messed up in our own special idiosyncratic ways. It's just a measure of how much of ourselves we admit to others and expose our vulnerabilities. That's what Twitter is for, right?

Anyways, here is what I think these women were REALLY thinking...

"I've been married 3 times and still never had an orgasm; this is why I drink." 

~ Muriel

"That shower is way better than him. Every time."

~ Ruthie

"I'm going to stick my head in the oven tonight. I mean, say 'Cheese!'"

~ Audrey

"I hate vacuuming, like, seriously fucking hate it, motherfucker."

~ Beth

"I just gave him a blow job, not because I liked it, but because I'm bored."

~ Judith

"I'm so fucking horny that even this cactus is turning me on."

~ Connie

And I guess I shouldn't leave out this guy either:

"Sex with my wife makes me ill. I try to imagine she's Ben from next door."

~ Jerry

And now I have the urge to watch gay porn and eat ice cream...

Foxy has the floor!

As the second part of my lovely birthday gift (See? I told you I'd stretch out my birthday as long as humanly fucking possible) Foxy has send me a fabulous guest post about having sex after the kids, and stealing those lovely little moments. Warm welcome to a Foxy woman!

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Having The S*E*X after Having The K*I*D*S

Once upon a time, in a galaxy far, far away, why yes I am a total Star Wars geek . . . thanks for noticing, my husband and I had a rather ambitious sex life. We endeavoured to be adventurous, playful and even jump each other on a more than regular basis. It was fun. It was pleasurable. At times it may have resembled a letter to Penthouse.

Ah yes and then I got pregnant. Irony: Having sex is what created a “situation” which led to NOT having sex. Holy hell, I was not a pretty pregnant lady. I vomited numerous times a day which pretty much sucked the libido out of me. What little bit of libido was left behind after the pregnancy was soon laughed out of me by newborns.

Now that there are no more newborns in our house and I am not pregnant, the husband and I are endeavouring to be ambitious once again.

Take for example this little story.

One night we were busy getting busy. It was a rare night when the kids had not yet made it into our bed and we were totally taking advantage of it. Things were getting hot, I may have been muffling sounds of pleasure and I was getting close . . . oh so close . . . when suddenly there are the sounds of crying coming from down the hall.

NOOOOO! Not right then. Not when I was sooooooo close.

Seeing as I was the only one with any sort of clothing on, albeit it was only a shirt, I jumped up and headed into the kiddos room to cut them off at the pass and not let them think they could join us in our bed.

There I am, sans any sort of bottoms, gently rubbing the back of my son silently wishing him back to sleep so that we could finish where we had left off.

We got lucky that night . . . the kiddo went back to sleep rather quickly, my mood wasn't completely destroyed and we finished where we had left off. That is what you call compartmentalizing one’s life! Sexy lady with my husband . . . caring mommy with my son! That is what sex is like for us after the kids.

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I hear ya, sister! This week, we may or may not have grabbed a quickie in the hall 
while the boys were watching a movie in the next room. Wait, whut?...
Thanks again, Foxy lady! Love you long time :)

People! Don't forget to link up your #WWTFIFLF post to win some Estro'goodies!

Who's a big boy?

I'm supposed to be taking a break this week, but I just couldn't stay away. Ya know why? Because it was Brandon's birthday. Gawd fucking dammit, I do love birthdays. And I also love Brandon, so really, I had no choice. This one's for you, darling.

Also? It's February 1st. Yay! Ya know what that means? 

It's #WWTFIFLF Month. 

I've made a widget because I'm a keener like that. Add it to all/any of your posts this month and link back here. 

Why? Because it's wonderfully pointless... and it has a swearzie, so it's automatically awesome. 

I MAY BE CHOOSING A RANDOM WINNER TO GET COOL SHIT. 

WE SHALL SEE...

Coming up on Friday is Foxy and a great guest post about sex, marriage and finding those little moments.

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