This is soo gross.....

So it's been a while since I've posted here.  Real life has a way of dragging us, kicking and screaming, from the things we really enjoy.

Yup, I do really enjoy posting my thoughts, ideas and twisted humor for all of you who bother to read/look at it.  Thank you, by the way!!

So, today is April 19th, it's the day before Easter Sunday AND it's my Birthday!!  Yup!!  I am all of 54 years old today.....notice I DID use the words "years old" instead of that stupid "years young" that most people over 50 insist on using?  Ya see, I am proud of each and every year I have survived on this earth!!  It's been a long, hard road!!  Yet, here I am, still putting one foot in front of the other and making my way down the road of life!!

Anyway, I did not start writing this with the thought of causing anyone to feel as though they HAVE to wish me a happy birthday.  I started writing this because my friend Sue (NOT the name she is known by) and I sat up last night watching last years episodes of BLACK ORPHAN.....well, we were actually talking and glancing at the TV from time to time.

It was an interesting conversation!!  LOL  And a gross one also!!

Now I'm going to do the only polite thing and clue you in on what we were discussing.  Feel free to leave at any point in time, because believe me, it will get to be an interesting, but really, really gross, conversation!

So, we were talking about the way things are around  here.  Both of us have lived other places, although she did grow up here.  She has lived in the North, New Jersey, and I lived in Ohio, and Kentucky, and Illinois.  We both worked at bartenders, and, believe me, we have BOTH heard things that most people would NOT believe.

Now that you have some background, let's get on with the conversation!!

Here, where we live, there are some things that neither of us had ever heard of before we moved here.  Not to be gross, but neither of  us had ever heard of GENITAL WARTS.

The first time someone was talking about this disgusting, virus induced, condition, someone was talking about having to get them "burned" off.  I, being the innocent (ha) thing that I am, spoke up and asked, "What the fuck are genital warts??  Better yet, HOW did  you get them, did you pick up a toad with your pussy??"

Of course, that didn't go over good with the person in question. She was insulted and got slightly pissed off, after she giggled a bit of course.  She informed me that genital warts are a virus that is sexually transmitted and that once you have them you can NEVER get rid of them.

GREAT!  So there's a virus that makes your private parts break out in warts and you have to get them burned off, only to have them re-appear at a moments notice??  WTF??

Where did this particular STD come from??  I mean seriously, WHO was the first person to contract this strange, and disfiguring, virus??  HOW did they get it??

Think about it, if you are going to engage in sex with someone DO YOU NOT LOOK AT THEM??  Come one people, if a cock looks like a stalk of broccoli it's probably a good idea to RUN LIKE YOUR ASS IN ON FIRE!!  LEAVE!!  DO NOT TOUCH THAT THING!!

Same goes for you men, if it looks like a head of CAULIFLOWER, DO NOT TOUCH!!

HOW can someone, anyone, lay down with someone if they have warts/sores/seepage/etc??  Does no one even LOOK at the particular body part that they are going to be indulging in?  Or is it that the raging hormones causes blindness and you don't notice??

I always thought that people had some simple rules where sexual activities are concerned.  I always figured that  people KNEW to not touch, caress, lick, suck, fondle ANYTHING that doesn't look NORMAL!!  There cannot be an excuse for NOT knowing what a woman/man looks like naked, there are WAY too many ways to see pictures.....internet/tv/movies/books.  Come on people!!

Even if it LOOKS normal, if it SMELLS like curdled yogurt the same rule applies!!  DO NOT IN ANY WAY HAVE CONTACT!!!   Point in fact, there is a "woman" (term used loosely) that lives in the county, she is not the most attractive person, but hey, many of us are not.  What she is though is odorous.  VERY!!
She can be two aisles over in the grocery store and YOU KNOW IT'S HER!!  Yup, NOT a good smell, kind of puts you off on the thought of food, which is usually the main reason you're in the grocery store!  Anyway, this woman not only has a man, she is MARRIED to him.  That facts brings up questions about his sense of smell.  Is he handicapped in that area??  I mean if I can smell her from two aisles over, surely he can smell her when he lies next to her in bed.  WHAT IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE???  Water falls from the SKY, so not having water is no excuse.  There are Churches that will GIVE you soap.  So, either there is an inherent desire to smell like a well used skunk, or else there is a base problem that has yet to be dealt with.  Either way, something is wrong and MOST people would deal with it!!!

Another rule of thumb, so to speak, when you are going to engage in sexual activities with someone, PLEASE USE PROTECTION!!  Yup, I said it, I sound like a bad commercial, but I really don't give a shit!!

People, there are SOOOOO many things out there that can disfigure, traumatize, and even kill you!!  NO PUSSY/COCK is worth dying for!!  I do NOT care how good the sex is, PLEASURE IS TRANSIENT  DEATH IS FOREVER!!

Anyway, I'm done preaching!!  Now I'm going to go eat my Birthday Breakfast and go on with my day.  Maybe something wonderful will happen, at least I have been told that a person's birthday is a wonderful day.

Y'all be good!!

FAKEBOOK AND THE MASSIVE PAIN IN MY ASS......

SO, the twits at FAKEBOOK decided, once again, to do whatever they could to make our lives miserable. So here I am, working twice as hard to get my post to my group.
WTF???

Anyway, let's see if the twats can stop this one!

All I have to say is FAKEBOOK, I hope your genital warts clear up soon!!

OMG!!! What's wrong with me??

Interviewed a potential fuck-buddy today.  What a waste of time.

We talked over lunch, had a good conversation….it was going well….until……time for dessert….I, being who I am, ordered Ice Cream. He looked at me like I had shot his sister!!  WTF??

He gently took my hand and said, “You know you’re awesome, really you are.  I want to tell you that I am…..LACTOSE INTOLERANT!!”

WTF??

No whip cream…the real stuff that you make yourself, not the canned shit.

No ice cream

Then he said, I don’t agree with fishing.  I think it’s cruel to catch a poor defenseless creature on a GRAPPLING HOOK…..

Grappling hook???  WTF??  I’m not going after Jaws….I just want a catfish or two, maybe some bass or walleye……damn.

Anyway, we finished lunch in a fog of uncomfortable silence, shook hands and went our own ways.  It was NOT an experience I want to repeat.  EVER! 

I think I should write up a list of questions for handy reference before another of these “dates”.  You know what I mean, like an application only more personal.

It would look something like this:

NAME:

Address:                                                                                                              Zip Code:

Phone:

Marital Status:

If divorced, how many times?

Sexual Preferences, if any:

Availability: (NOT for relationship! Do you have any responsibilities that you causes you to be unavailable at certain times?)

Do you agree to the release of your medical records?  (If so, please date, sign and initial)

Have you ever been diagnosed as a pathological liar?  (If yes, are receiving treatment?)

Allergies: (Particularly to latex, flavored gels, honey, chocolate and whipped cream)

Hobbies:

Education:

Favorite sexual position:

Do you have excessive body hair?  Yes?  No?

Foreplay:   Yes?         No?   (Circle one)

Past Sexual experimentation, if any:

Ever slept with a blood relative:  Yes?  No?  (Circle one.  If yes….please enlighten me)

Children, if any, complete with ages:

Do you now have, or have you ever had, in your possession any of the following:  (please circle and explain)

1. Body butter                                                                       
2. Butt Plugs
3. Harness
4. Dresses
5. Panty hose
6. High Heels
7. Whips
8. Chains
9. Glitter
10. Diapers
11. Baby bibs
12. Pacifier
13. Chloroform
14. Handcuffs
15. Silk ties
16. Nipple Clamps
17. Body piercing equipment
18. Dildo
19. Vibrator
20. Lube
21. Or a Gerbil

Do you, or have you been known to, carry on a conversation in your sleep? If so, please explain.

Will you, or have you ever, participated in PDA??? (If you don’t know what this is, skip to end of application)

Are you, or have you ever, had sex with someone whose initials are C.B.? (Please refer to question #9 for reference):

Do you have any unusual traits such as, but not limited to, heaving sweating, night terrors, excessive belly button lint, curly toenails?

Do you swear all above information is true to your knowledge?  If so, please sign, date and initial.

If I could get potential partners to agree to filling out this questionnaire, AND get the medical records, I could probably take care of my little problem.

“Little problem”, you ask.  Yeah, I refer to the total absence of sexual behavior (with another person) as my little problem.   It’s irritating but not unfixable.

The only problem is that I don’t want a “quick fix”.  I don’t want a bar hookup or any bullshit like that.  I want a steady sex partner who doesn’t want a “relationship” of the traditional type.  Meaning, I want a sex monkey that answers my every beck and call, no matter what he is doing or where he is at, he will come running, preferably dropping his clothing on the way!

I realize that everything I’m saying makes me seem like some whore or something, but let’s be serious for a bit, okay? 

I enjoy NOT having to pick up after someone else.  I have raised my kids, done the married thing and the living with someone thing, and quite honestly, living alone is the BEST!!  Of course, I had NEVER lived alone until recently.  There was always someone, usually a child, lurking around the house, getting into things and basically making a mess.  For those of you that DO NOT know, children, even older ones, put a cramp into any sexual experimentation you may want to indulge in.   They also leave unidentifiable stains in their underwear and that is something I do NOT miss!! 

So, here I am, in the midst of my sexual prime……ALONE!!!

It sucks, and NOT in a good way!! 

I suppose I could do the whole entire picking up some dick in a bar and banging the night away…..but there are things out there that Clorox can’t wash off.  I’ve never been the real adventurous type and I sure as hell don’t want to die because of a piece of ass.   Gaping sores on my puss are NOT an option! Nor do I want to have to take antibiotics, shots, or any other form of STD treatment.

Then there’s the whole entire genital wart thing!   WTF??  Laser surgery to get rid of them only to have them come back again and again!!  Nope, not going to sign up for that one either!!

So, what I’m saying is, I need a relationship that isn’t a RELATIONSHIP.  I need someone that I like, maybe even that I COULD love, that is trust-worthy, clean, honest, and faithful to our sexual relationship, has time for me and enjoys the same things I do!!

Sounds like I want a REAL relationship, doesn’t it??

Honestly I don’t!  I do NOT want to a relationship in the sense that it may lead to questions about marriage, living arrangements, meeting the family(families), hanging out with mutual friends or doing someone else’s laundry!!!

I want the perks without the responsibilities!!

OMG, I just realized, I’m acting like a MAN!!!!

Now I’m traumatized!!!

A Day of Remberance

Today is a day of Remembrance.  It’s a day set aside to honor a man who gave  hope to those who were treated as second class citizens.  Today is Martin Luther King Day.

I don’t remember hearing the speech that still echoes throughout history.  I was just a little kid, only three on that day in August, 1963.  When  you’re that small  you aren't as affected by things that happen far from you, even if they are on television.

What I do remember is the way things were.  Not only that day in 1963, but days and years later.  I remember how, even in Ohio, if you were black you didn't quite measure up.  When I was a little older, before I even attended school, I can remember going to Kresge’s Department store on Main St. with my Grandma Freed and eating lunch.  It was something we did often and, for me, was a treat I looked forward to.  I asked my Grandma why the “colored” people couldn't set in the booths like we did.  I’ll never forget the look on her face as she explained that “They aren’t like us.”  She used words that were common for the day, ones that we don’t use now.

When I asked why the “coloreds” didn’t have plates and forks like ours, she just gave me a look and told me to eat my grilled cheese sandwich.  Although I was still curious, I did as I was told and was later rewarded with a toy.

But it stuck with me, those men and women being made to sit at the end of the counter and eat off of paper plates with plastic forks.  It hurt me to see the way the white waitresses ignored them when they wanted more coffee or soda.

The only thing I understood was that things were just that way and there was nothing to be done about it.  I was told that “they” should be glad they were allowed to eat inside with “decent” (meaning White) people.

When we were in Kentucky I never remarked on the fact that there were water fountains that said “WHITE ONLY” or that the bathrooms were MEN, WOMEN and COLORED.  I guess up until that day in the Department store with my Grandma Freed, I had never noticed that there were people who were treated like they were less than me.

When I started school the kids in my class looked like me, they were white.  When I was in first grade the school system started “bussing” kids into white schools, I just thought that meant that those kids lived far away from the school and had to ride the bus to get there.  It didn’t bother me that they were darker than I was, or that their hair was different than mine.  They were just new kids in school.

I remember the adults saying awful things about those kids, things I won’t repeat.  If I asked any questions about why they were mad that those little kids were coming to school with me, the adults would either tell me that I didn’t understand or else they would get angry and yell things that I didn’t understand. 

I made friends with this little girl that I’ll call “Jenny”.  She was so pretty with her caramel colored skin, green eyes and almost straight hair.  We enjoyed playing together, although my Momma wouldn’t let her come into the house and threw a fit when she found out I had gone into “Jenny”’s house to play.  Momma actually spanked me and told me to “never go into that ******* house again”.  I told Mamma she was a good girl and her Momma looked just like my Momma.  That’s when I found out that there were things worse than simply being “colored”.

“Jenny” told me about this man named Martin Luther King and how he was leading people to freedom.  We talked a great deal about that because I thought we were already free and I didn’t understand what she meant when she said this man was going to free her people. 

That young girl taught me  a lot about how life really was in the 1960’s.

She explained that her Momma and Daddy had to come to the North just to get married.  A black man would be killed for even attempting to marry a white woman.  She told me about her Daddy’s brother who was found hanging from a tree in Mississippi because he wanted colored people to be able to vote.  She told me of the men in sheets terrorizing her Granny and burning down her house.

She told me how she and I couldn’t go into Kresge’s together and have a root beer float.  She said that I couldn’t sit with her at the counter because if I did the waitresses would make me move and then wouldn’t serve her because I had sat with her.  She explained how she couldn’t go into the movies with me and sit in the same row, or why my Momma wouldn’t let her stay with me or me go to her house to play.  She told me how her Momma, who was white, was treated worse than any colored woman because she had “lowered” herself by marrying a colored man. 

I saw for myself how people, of both colors, treated “Jenny”.  She was considered the lowest of the low because she was not white OR colored.  The colored people hated her because she wasn’t black, the white people hated her because she wasn’t white.  She didn’t fit in anywhere, and it scared her for life.

On that warm April evening in 1968, a shot was fired from a 30 caliber weapon.  That shot changed the world.

A man of peace, a man who had nothing but hope for this country and the citizens in it, lay bleeding on a balcony in Memphis.  A short time later he lay dead in a hospital close by. 

Many thought the Dream was as dead as the man who had spoken of it.

Many more thought violence was the only response.

And my best friend “Jenny”?  She ran all the way to my house, tears streaming from her eyes, to share with me a pain I could never understand.  She found me playing under the streetlight in front of my house.  She simply looked at me with her big green eyes and, with a sob catching in her throat, told me that Dr. King was dead and that a white man had killed him.

The next few years were rift with protest, murders, and riots.   The National Guard used teargas and riot sticks on college students.  People were shot in their beds and horrible medical experimentations on black men were ended.

Slowly things changed.  People began to change their perception of each other.  Anyone could sit anywhere to eat their sandwiches and drink their sodas.  The balcony was for whomever wanted to sit there.

In the years that followed I found out a lot about my own family history.  I discovered that, although most of us look white, we aren’t.  Many of our ancestors “passed” as white, many didn’t care.  The mixture of Black, White and Native American had created a wide variety in my family’s skin tone, eye color and hair texture.  Many of the older ones wouldn’t admit to it, many of the young ones didn’t care.

My friend “Jenny” would have laughed.  But “Jenny” didn’t live to see the changes that have taken place.  The scars on her soul were too deep.  She was just seventeen years old when drugs and alcohol took her from us.

So, today, while so very many people remember a great man by the name of Dr. Martin Luther King, I also remember a little light skinned, green eyed girl named “Jenny”.