Femstaches & Hot Asses

First off, today is my 35th birthday. 
I'm not going to ask you all for naughty photos because then they wouldn't classify as being "unsolicited" and I couldn't claim ignorance . . . but ya know, you do what you gotta do . . . mmmk? Ahem.

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I haven't done a Writer's Workshop for a long time, and I don't even know if this overly qualifies, but I saw that one of the topics was: Something that made you laugh this week — and I couldn't pass up the chance to share this piece of journalistic brilliance with everyone.

I was in the waiting room at my doctor's appointment, minding my own business and reading one of the manky, out-dated women's magazines from the pile. I usually choose the one that has a famous woman on the cover that I detest the least, which isn't always easy. After flipping through page after page of advertisements for all the ways I can make myself a better woman, I found an article with a huge Frida Kahlo self portrait.

Ooohhh, art. I can read about that.

And then I read that the article was essentially about women with mustaches. Whatever. Fine. I've already invested my attention and I likely wouldn't find anything better, so I read further down the page and found this . . .

I had to take a double take and then I back tracked some reading and took a third take before I burst into laughter. I think I jump-started an elderly man's heart that was sitting across from me. You're welcome, sir, by the way. Mona Lisa, Mariah Carey, Tina Fey . . . and JUSTIN BIEBER.

That is hysterical as hell.

Bravo to Elle Magazine Canada and Joana Lourenço for that hilarious dig on the popstar. Loved it!

And since I have a plethora of useless art knowledge stored in my brain, I feel compelled to also share with everyone the amusing tidbit that Duchamp's L.H.O.O.Q. is actually a French pun that when said out loud, the sound of it translates in English to say, "She has a hot ass."

You go, Mustache'y Mona . . . and Lady Bieber!

Have a fabulous weekend, everyone! I'll be off stuffing my face with pizza and ice cream cake.

Why I don't have a New Year's list

Happy New Year, everyone!!

So far, I've already learned something useless — and I thrive on useless information — which is that 2013 is the first year since 1987 in which all 4 digits are different. Huh.

I'll let you chew on that for a while . . .

OK. So, I haven't had much time to sit down and itemize all my deep and meaningful quandaries about life and love from the past year, but I have some perfectly valid reasons:

1. Hubs has been home for the duration of these holidays and he has this "thing" about me constantly being on technology (or making crafts, or anything that doesn't directly affect him in a positive way) whilst he's home. Seriously. We've got the next 50 years to get sick of each other, just let me play with my shit, mmmk? Ugh.

2. Holidays mean food. Food is distracting.

3. Holidays mean extended family. Extended family is annoying.

4. After nearly 2 months of the family being an astonishingly bright beacon of health, all hell broke loose. Sick children are fucking disgusting.

5. I've been going after jobs like a bull after a matador's ass. Customizing my awesomeness for each individual position is exhausting.

6. I painted THREE rooms in my house over the holidays. We moved into this entirely white house in December of 2010 and I'd been using the whole "but I'm working all the time" excuse not to paint. Well, I thought I'd call myself out on that bullshit. Since I'm not working, I finally wanted something DONE around the house. I'm most proud of this accent wall. I made these window edges my bitches, y'all!

7. And finally, I got a Wacom drawing tablet for Christmas. Soon, I hope to draw some more, well, productive drawings, but for right now, I've been busy testing out the easy subjects — getting a real feel for the hardware, ya know . . .

And I know you're all wondering with bated breath, so I'll just put it out there once and for all . . .
Yes, I do commissions.

Ahem.

A Whore Week

Well, here is another Friday that is about to pass this November, and I have to say that from my perspective this month is still kicking my ass. Last week, Thing 1 contracted impetigo, which is like the daycare version of herpes, as far as I'm concerned. Fucking disgusting germ factories, they are - the institutions and the little people inside them. But this all will soon be a distant memory, however, since they will be stopping daycare in a few short days. Why, you ask?

Ohh, because I lost my job. Ya know, no biggie . . .

I mean, holy motherfucking tripping balls.

I realize that it's nothing too huge in the grand scheme of things and that it happens to families every second of every day, but when it happens to you, it really does feel like a giant kick to your stomach.

Mortgage? Debt repayments? Car? Insurance? Groceries? TWO OF FUCKING EVERYTHING?

We were "just" scraping by and were counting down the days when the boys started "free" school in the fall. Well, didn't that grandiose plan just get flushed down the proverbial shitter? I've been employed continuously since my first job as a golf caddie when I was 12, so I'm not quite sure what to do about this whole "not having a job" thing.

I think I'm meant to cook, clean, take care of the child'ens, and shit, right?

Well, fuck me; that sucks.

I commend anyone that can stay home and happily raise their children, it's hard ass work. I know this, but I've also known that it's never been something I would be good at. I will admit that I love my kids the most when I only see them a limited number of house per day. I love working and creating - it is when I'm my best me. And that's the me that is the best me for my kids to have as a mom.

Does that make sense? I'm going to go ahead and assume you said, "Yes!"

And through fights with my work (who are trying to withhold pay that I've earned), to ruining relationships over a decade old, to realizing we'll have to be eating a lot of 27¢ packets of instant noodles for dinner and could very well lose our home, and my son's face is peeling off into crusty bits, I'm trying to focus on the fact that it's all superficial shit at the end of the day. We'll bounce back, eventually.

And maybe I'll get ripped off for the ump-teenth time by the same douche muppet.
And perhaps we'll have to get a different address.
And I'm sure that Thing 1 will survive.

But my friend around the corner is dying.

So yes, I had a fucktastic week that proceeded to bend me over and ram a fat one up me, but it could be worse. It can always be worse.

"Well, I say we get drunk, because I'm all out of ideas." (Metatron, Dogma)

Yup, it's about that time, folks.

Cheers!

First World Problems & Some Crack

Holy hell! The last seven days have been a flurry of craziness. First, there was my sexting drama, experiencing racism in my town, and getting my boobs squished. Then we lost cable, including 2 whole hours of television watching that I'll never get back; and finally, tipping the balance was when I found out that these pants are being sold to the general public - and NOT in a Halloween'ish, ironic sort of way . . .

If I had to choose, I would actually prefer if every woman on earth wore tights as pants than to see one woman wearing these (and that's saying a lot), especially with those hooker heels. I think my exact words were:

And now I'm seeing leopard print Peggy Bundy pants in the new arrivals. What the fuck ass year is this?
— Lady Estrogen (@ladyestrogen) October 2, 2012

So while I'm busy recuperating from these horrendous crimes against my senses, please check out my guest posts this week. I'm in TWO places, so pick your poison or if you really love me, choose both!

1. I'm In The Powder Room today, talking about my post "multiples pregnancy" body and all the glorious ways it's fucked up . . . in the most humorous way possible.

2. My good friend Q over at ThankQ is basking in the sun right now and asked me to hold down his virtual fort. I am ranting about teen pregnancy, but more specifically when they are barely teens themselves. My boxing gloves are thrown down and it's bare knuckle time. Gah!

And to all of my Canadian homies reading this, I hope everyone has a fabulous Thanksgiving weekend, full of gluttony and complete invasions of personal space by drunk relatives. I shall leave you with a special Thanksgiving message that can only be expressed properly by Adam Heath Avitable. (Warning: You might never be the same after clicking this link.)

Enjoy!

The End of Days: A Preview

For the last few months, a Canadian national retailer has been dying a slow and seemingly painful death. The strange thing is that I've never even liked Zellers – their products and customer service sorely lacked in quality compared to their American competitors. I wish is wasn't the truth but that has been my experience.

FINALLY, it's the end of days for Zellers. Every week, the savings increase by 10% and the scavengers come flocking. Of course, I had to check it out every week – especially since I have twins, so buying everything in duplicate sure helps when it's 50-80% OFF. We got 2 new tricycles for $30 each. Score!

(I don't know this kid, but he was more than eager to pose for me.)

Then, I did something that I might not be overly proud of – I went to another Zellers and then another, and another to check out their spoils of a defeated retail war. My grandmother's obsessive shopping gene kicked in, which is my only line of defense at this time. I journeyed to one particularly close to The Big Smoke where the population is a lot more dense (in volume, not intelligence maybe), and this is what I found:

Which perhaps isn't too bad for those of you non-OCD people, but then I turned around and saw this:

Fuck that, yo!

People scrounging through merchandise on the floor. Throwing it, stepping on it, kicking items aside, treating it like it was a free-for-all! If this is what the Apocalypse (Zombie or otherwise) would look like, I just hope I go out quickly, because I have no patience for this fucking chaos. Not one bit. I love a good bargain as much as the next person, but if the shelves are in disarray and there's no civilized shopping to be had, please just put me out of my misery, because this made my heart hurt:

A world without organized, freshly re-stocked merchandise is not a world that I'd be interested in. Period.

And without further adieu. . .

Dear gods of Target,

Please hurry up and give this store a baptism of fire 
before you even think of moving in; just take my word for it.
Looking forward to being inside you!

Thanks.

Sincerely,
Lady E

I Haven't Had Enough

Yes! It's true - I survived last week's filming. It was fucking awesome, but I think I was running on adrenaline for the better part of the week because I completely crashed over the weekend. I edited three photos from the shoot and I needed to take a nap.

Photos will be going up on Wednesday, by the way, so... easy there, killers. I know you all cannot wait though! Or maybe it's just me thinking that you can't wait, when, in fact, it's just me. I enjoy the fantasy though - so I'm going to stick with that delusion.

At the same time as I was being a busy little music video director/producer on Friday, Marianas Trench released their latest grand production for their single Haven't Had Enough. It's so fucking camp; I love it. Josh is ridiculous - it needs to be said. He had me at the lame French 'stache in the first scene. Also? His over-dramatics when the silver mime lunges at him. Hi-larious.

I have a new found appreciation for these productions now. When I saw this on Friday, aside from the comedy, all I could think of was how much effort and planning it must have took to produce this grand spectacle. A whole fucking lot, that's how much. I got tired just thinking about it.

If I get more opportunities to do other directing and/or producing, I'll have to find a way to get a better quality of sleep somehow...
or start drinking more.

That Beautiful Insanity

It's about that time that I need to do one of my not at all famous triple run-down of shit that's been going on and also this time, it's to spill a little bit of beans about a project I have been working frantically on.

Firstly, the last Monday Music Moves Me that I did was 2 weeks ago. It was for Mary Me Jane, and it was a song called Twenty-one. Then, last week, I got a giant comment to which I first scanned through quickly as I was a bit confused but then I calmed down and re-read it, realizing it was actually from Amanda Kravat, the lead singer from Mary Me Jane. Holy Mutha Fucking Shit! It was awesome and a real honor to have her check out what I had to say and for HER to actually thank ME for posting it. She's so lovely! No, Amanda. Thank YOU for writing such powerful lyrics and incredible songs that I have loved for so many years. I cannot wait to hear your new material, truly!

Secondly, although I have been dropping hints every now and then about actors, filming, and vague references to videos on The Twitter, I am, in fact directing and producing a music video this week, starting tomorrow! More importantly, the concept of the video is based on my story of Jim - our past and the 'alternate ending' I had written. It's all so very exciting and also ridiculously over-whelming. If I ever post again after today, you'll know I've remotely survived this experience.

Thirdly, this week's theme is School. I'm sure there are others that I'm not thinking of at the moment. My mind has pretty much been on a single track until this week is over, so after thinking of this song almost immediately, I was done. Not only is it another song from my Canadian boys, Hedley (whom I've mentioned before here) but this song is about how we grow up too fast. It reminisces on when we were young and 'how cavalier we use to be, that beautiful insanity'. I think considering the content I will be immersing myself into for the next 4 days, I believe it's perfect.

I just hope I remember to breathe!

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.

My Life - The Soap Opera

I've almost always been so grateful for the relationship that I have with my mother. I had to say 'almost' because of course, no mother/daughter relationship is perfect and we have had our ins and outs - especially through my tumultuous teen years where I was a hormonal lunatic.

We have always been open with each other and I know a lot of my friends were always envious of how I could talk to my mother about topics that most of their mothers would either slap or ground them for mentioning. My mother has helped me work through a lot of tough times, and I'd like to think that it has been mutual as I've grown up.

A few months ago, during my "third life crisis" as I'm becoming to refer to it as, I was talking to my mother on the phone, trying to get some comfort from her words.

"...but it's been 15 years. Why do I still feel like my heart broke just yesterday?"

"It often feels like that for me and it's been 33 years."

"That's not helping."

"Sorry."

"My father. You still miss him? Even having been remarried for all these years?"

"Always."

--> About here is where I began to sob. <--

"I know this sounds awful but he died; that's absolute closure I think I could deal with easier than whatever it is I'm stuck in. But instead, he's out there... alive, somewhere else... not loving me."

"I know what you mean; it doesn't sound horrible. You just have to live your life the best way you can. I have been re-married for 26 years now - and you? You are just starting your family. We survive. Everything happens for a reason."

OK. Now fast forward to last week.

I'm watching Day of Our Lives, as I do every fucking day. I don't need a lecture, thank you. I exposed my addiction a long time ago -- deal with it. It functions more like comfortable background noise to me than anything else... until this week. The dialog between fire-cracker granny Alice Brady and her bat-shit crazy granddaughter Sami (Alison Sweeney) made me almost choke on my cheerios. It went like this:

"I know this sounds awful but grandpa died - he's at peace. But Rafe is out there... alive, somewhere else... not loving me."

"Surely you're not saying you would rather him be dead!"

"Of course not! I'm just saying that you were able to mourn him. But me? I'll always be wondering where he is... what he's doing... who he's with..."

Ummm... so, yes. It's official! My life has become a soap opera.

Dear Days of Our Lives Head Writing Team, Thank you for using my life as inspiration for you recent dialog. I still don't know how exactly you mananged to over-hear my conversation with my mother, but nevertheless, I am giving you fair notice: I want my fucking cut! Yours faithfully, Lady Estrogen

Bajingos Illustrated

You better believe this work of art is going up on my store some time in the near future. A thanks has to be extended to @Ida_Homie for his part in brainstorming for this juvenile activity. Twitter is truly inspirational... if you're aiming to be inspired by useless drivel that contains zero intellectual value, which is my favorite kind, truly.

REVISIONS: Whilst formatting the poster, I thought of one I couldn't BELIEVE I left out - Gold Digger. Ugh! OK - so poster is now available as well! Check it.

Housekeeping? Housekeeping!

It's about time I get my shit in order. If I cannot do it in my own life, I might as well do it for my blog. I'm going to de-clutter my site soon, but then I hope to be done messing with my damn layout, once and for all.  I've also noticed 3 things lately - all of which were catalysts to my less than ground-breaking decision.

A. I've tried to publish on particular days of themes - I enjoy them - but it often would throw off my sad attempt at scheduling only every other day. If I do a Thursday Writing Workshop, I can't do a Wordless Wednesday or a Friday Flashback... shit like that. I'll chalk it up to my OCD, but it greatly annoyed the piss out of me.

B. Weekends suck my statistics' hairy nuts. Quite a few times I've rolled out a big gun on a Saturday or Sunday and heard nothing but crickets. Ah, rrrrright! People have families! Damn them. Ha! Isn't it so much easier keeping up with blog reading while we're all supposed to be working? Yes! During-the-week.

C. I don't want to post too often and I don't want to post just for the sake of posting. I want to make every post a valuable and worthwhile waste of your time when you come and visit me. I take a lot of pride in that! I love and throughly appreciate every single visit and comment - it's been an incredible year.

So, here's what I've decided:

I will be posting only on MONDAY - WEDNESDAY - FRIDAY. That's it. Finito.

If I want to participate in a Tuesday or Thursday blog activity, I'll post those the day before and look like a nerdy keener. So, if you see a Top Ten Tuesday post go up on a Monday, don't worry - I do, in fact, know what fucking day it is - I haven't completely lost it... yet.

If I learn of some completely earth-shattering news on a non-posting day, I'm just going to have to learn to hold my wad. Patience is NOT one of my virtues, but I'm really going to give this whole "consistency" thing a chance.

Coming by on a weekend? Thank you! That's fantastic. Please take a look around at the latest posts from that week; or if you're feeling adventurous, have a click around the archives or key words.

THANK YOU AGAIN, from the bottom of my... I'll stick with heart... for reading my rants and ridiculous stories of when I was a hormonal fool (because I'm totally not that any longer, right?).

*muah*

I'm Freakin' Published!

Ohh Emm Gee! How excited am I? Can you hear the squealing in my words? 

Squeeeeeeeeee!

Books. Novels. These mean nothing to me now because my life-long dream has been realized. My submission for the Urban Dictionary has been APPROVED! 

I had come up with the word while describing the ancient sewing machine that my grandmother dug up for me a few months back. The more I thought about it, I just knew I was on to something - I just needed to pump up the "ghetto" in my definitions. Because, really? The UD world doesn't give a shit about someone's old sewing machine.

So, please gaze upon the brilliant literary musings of none other than myself. I'll be available for autographs later on today. If someone from the Pulitzer committee calls, they can speak with my agent!

And don't forget the merchandise! Oh, how I salivate over the idea of fresh merchandise. True, I don't benefit from these sales. I'd much rather you buy something from MY SHOP, but it's newly created merchandise nevertheless - so it must be celebrated. It's been an exciting morning, that's for damn sure. 

I think I need to take a nap.

Lady Estrogen's Rebuttal

If you happened to have already read my husband's debut on my blog, then you're ahead of the game. If you didn't, I recommend reading it first... or don't... but this post will be MUCH more amusing if you have.

Dear Sir Testie,

You say that I have a lot of ideas, and this much is true. I often find it hard to sleep because I cannot shut off my brain. My friend told me this week that the movie Limitless is based on me – and I haven’t seen it so I’m not sure if that’s an insult or a compliment. If I won the lottery, oh, the awesome things I would/could do! Whenever I have a new idea, just remember that the question isn't "what are we going to do," the question is "what aren't we going to do?"

Also, I cannot deny that I love shopping. My pupils dilate and my heart races when I’m on a roll. The one thing that annoyed me is when you said I burn through YOUR pocks... hum... I have my own money, thank you very much... I get it from grandma. I recently bought a purple leather crocodile-textured wallet to match my purple purse & purple blackberry. It is so choice. If you have the means, I highly recommend picking one up.

Directions? Shmections. I have a fucking GPS... and I married YOU. You, the all wise and powerful transportation engineer. What more could I possibly need? I know where the grocery store is; I turn right at the big thingy and then left at the next thingy! I think you’re more annoyed by the fact that when you have to pick up the boys from daycare, I get your sweet ride for the day; its name is 'Precious'. I can’t leave any indications that I’ve used the car, which includes empty coffee cups or receipts. A man with priorities so far out of whack doesn't deserve such a fine automobile.

Do I enjoy talking? O.K. You got me there as well. It’s a good thing you don’t or else we’d be constantly talking over each other. You just sit there and nod your head when I’m going off on a tangent – and I’m fine with that; I don’t like being interrupted. I meant to tell you! Oh My God, did you hear? My best friend's sister's boyfriend's brother's girlfriend heard from this guy who knows this kid who's going with the girl who saw Ferris pass out at 31-flavors last night; I guess it’s pretty serious!

And finally, I think I’m smart? Hell, I know I’m smart! I recently joined the Union of Disgruntled Over-Educated Underemployed Bitches (UDOUB) and I think that says it all... besides, who is this Bueller that you speak of? I have no idea what you’re talking about and how does this relate to our discussion of the uses of irony?

My darling, my husband, you're a beautiful man. I want to thank you for your warmth and compassion.

That is all.

Yours truly,
Lady Estrogen
a.k.a. Cunt Dragon, a.k.a. Venus Fry Cook

Sew what?

OK. So I've been wanting to learn how to sew for a long time now. Bah, add it to my fucking list, seriously. I want to do a lot of things; just ask my husband. He's sick of hearing it. But sewing? I really wished I had learned when I was younger. My mother is a rocking seamstress. Technically, she's not a professional, but she's done wedding dresses and an entire bridal party, so I think she deserves that title.

...anyhow, have a Winfield.* I'm wavering off course.

So, I made the mistake of telling my grandmother a while back that I wanted to start sewing and she said, "Oh, I have a little portable sewing machine you can have. I will find it for you; it's even in its original box!"

Well, she found it last week. Here's the box:

It's a REAL sewing machine, people! I don't think I will be using the machine, but I might want to frame this photo. Fucking priceless. It also must be solid iron; it's only 10x12inches but it weighs about 15lbs! Still, when I laughed my grandmother was insulted, "What's wrong with it? It's perfectly fine."

Well, call me a fandangled futuristic spoiled bitch, but I'll be getting one that uses REAL electricity to power it, not a hamster wheel. Thanks, though! It's f-antiquingly awesome... just not for sewing.

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

* ...anyhow, have a Winfield was a tagline for Winfield cigarettes in Australia that is now banned. It was positioned opposite the government health warning so they read like this: Smoking Kills ...anyhow, have a Winfield. Only in Australia. I collected all of them; I posted the photo on Wednesday, which is why it's still in my vocabulary today. I'm all about coming full circle, especially when it's warped!

A Quick Encounter of the Teenage Kind

I thought I'd mix things up today and write one of my sexual misadventures as if I were a 16 year old... in today's world. Enjoy!
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OMG! You will never guess what happened to me last night! Greg and I were getting hammered in his parent's basement and he was like, "I've had a thing for you for ages!"
I was was like, "Really? That's totally LOL cuz I think you're well fit."
And he was like, "Well, you're single right?"
And I was like, "Yeah."
And he was like, "So am I."
And I was like, "I know!"
And he was like, "Wanna hook up?"
And I was like, "OK."

And then he came closer to me on the couch and started kissing my neck. I straddled on top of him and he totally started to feel me up and he was like, "Whoa!"
And I was like, "Thanks."
And then he was like, "I want you so bad!"
And then I was like, "Uh huh."
We undressed each other and it was getting totally hot. We rolled on to the floor and I was like, "You got one?"
And he was like, "Yeah."
And I was like, "Cool."
And he put it on and we started goin' at it.
He was like, "Uhhhh!"
And I was like, "Ohhhhh!"
And then he was like, "Aggghhhh."
And then he stopped...
and I was like, "WTF?"

Didn't You Know?

I'm a Cunt Dragon!

That's right; it's been decided. The other day Kris over at Pretty All True was expressing her love for the Urban Dictionary on her twitter and I thought, 'Oh Yeah, I love that site up, down and sideways!' I have referred to it on numerous occasions when people have said something and I would be feeling like I was 10 years too late to the prom. What the hell were they talking about? Urban Dictionary consistently has the answer for me. I always thought I was fairly articulate, but it's a whole new ball game out there and I'm sadly only on first base.

Wow, I haven't said that since I was 11. Waa-wuhh.

So, whether or not you've been following my recent predicament, it occurred to me that a certain someone has probably created a special word for me and I could only imagine what it could be... and then I was reminded about the UD and I had a scan around to broaden my vocabulary. If I may offer up a suggestion, I totally want to be called a Cunt Dragon! Please? Can I? Can I?

It's offensive with a splash of mythical grandeur, don't you think? Can I express my inner anger through my vagina? I suuuuure as hell can! I LOVE IT. It's a worthy insult to which I can be 100% satisfied with.

So, now that I have officially manged to profoundly insult someone on my blog and spark some heated conversation, does that mean I've finally made it? Do I win a prize? Well, if my site traffic spiking through the roof and my host provider emailing me to tell me I need to increase my monthly bandwidth allowance is deemed a prize, I'll gladly take that with tea and a biscuit!

And for any future offenses that I probably will may commit, please address your complaints to Lady Estrogen, A.K.A. Mrs Cunt Dragon. Thank you.

Just a Quickie!

This is just a quick post because there's a lot of shit going on today!

1. Check out my saucy & sexy smut literature over at Scandal in the Choir Loft. Hope you enjoy reading, because I sure enjoyed, ahem, writing it!

2. I also have a post over at The Widow Lady today. This one is more emotional and about growing up without my biological father.

3. Boobies, Babies & A Blog WON my music month contest and she was kind enough to pimp my online store over on her blog today.

4. SAHMlovingit has a Friday post up by me as well! I'm not really this ambitious normally - it's a total coincidence that all these are up on the same week. Enjoy!

And finally...

5. Tomorrow is the Grand Finale of Music month. I know I went a little over, but February is too damn short and I couldn't leave out any of my incredible guest posts. The story belongs to a friend of mine and I just had put it into words. I lost touch with her years ago, but it is a story that MUST be told in all its rockin' glory. Here's me doing my electric air guitar: Bow-chicka-neeeerrr-neeeerrrrr!