People Are Strange

I’m aware that I chose a provocative title for my blog and it doesn’t necessarily reflect the content of the material.  So I try not to be offended by the search inquiries that bring people to my site. However some of the things people search are funny and some of it is downright disturbing.

WordPress (my blog host) provides statistics on site visits etc… One of the things it provides is the search terms. Yes I get the terms you type into Google, Bing or whatever search engine you’re using, provided in my site statistics. Here’s a list of the top 15 with some advice attached. These are direct quotes spelling and grammar mistakes included.

1.  “g spots restaurant little people” – WTF? I know little people have g spots too but why are you looking for a restaurant in relation to that?

2.  “burning pain in gspot, legs and feet” – I have NO idea how those three areas are burning but you need more than Google’s help.

3.  “my husband is straight how do I find his g spot” — Ummm after you somehow convince him he’s not gay because you are entering his exit only; it’s about 2.5 inches in and toward his abdominal wall.  You might wanna take an anatomy class and cut your nails.

4.  “When I touch my girlfriends g spot she feels like she wants to wee” – Congratulations you found the Holy Grail stay in that spot for a while, trust me she wont wee.

5.  “Upside down hits the g spot everytime” – I’ll be trying that tonight.

6.  “do ass whole has g spot” – Grammar, grammar, grammar. No the WHOLE ass does not have a g spot.

7.  “self sex for men g spot” – They have toys for that…

8.  “g spot summer dinner” – Strawberries and whipped cream?

9.  “how good is the shocker” – Pretty damn good.

10.  “i got a brazilian and its burning” – No shit!

11.  “what does it mean when a guy says he never found your g spot” – Means he is single.

12.  “I’m just looking for a little slap & tickle” – Aren’t we all.

13.  “horse pee rainbow tattoo” Huhhhh??? How do those words go together on a Google search? And if it’s out there I wanna see that tattoo.

14.  “is it a boil or my g-spot?” Ewwww pretty sure if you’re searching that question, it’s not your gspot.

15.  “does monkey butt work for razor burn?”  I really hope you’re talking about the powder…

Now the disturbing….  For all you mother-effers out there searching things like; little girls g spot or my daughter’s g spot. YOU ARE OFFICIALLY ON NOTICE. I am in the process of finding out if you can be tracked down, don’t know if it’s possible yet but damn it I’m gonna try.



Giddy Up!!

I know I’ve been out of touch in the past few weeks but I’ll write about the events going on in my life, in a soon to be published post.  However, right now I have to write about the events of my lunch break today.

I have one irrational fear, which has developed over the last few years.  This is not something most people would even think about nor worry about, but I do, daily.  I work in a beautiful area right in the Downtown Charleston Historic District.  I feel very fortunate to drive by Rainbow Row every day, to stumble down Chalmers Street on the cobblestone and best of all smell the Confederate Jasmine when it’s in full bloom.  All day long dozens of horse carriages go right past my office window.  I love to listen to the drivers tell their ridiculous and sometimes made up stories.  Seeing these carriages everyday reminds me of one thing and one thing only.  Those horses are disgusting; it stinks of horse piss and manure all year and in the summer, ugh!! Gross.

My fear? To be standing on the sidewalk or crossing the street and have a horse stop, piss near me and to be splashed. I avoid the horses at all cost; I will walk across the street, stop, anything to avoid this from happening. Furthermore, I will NEVER step in standing water downtown, NEVER. I guarantee you it’s full of horse piss. Once on a beautiful, clear, sunny day, I watched a tourist allow his gorgeous, curly, blonde-haired, 2-year-old girl stomp in the puddle outside of my office. I stopped and stared in horror, I couldn’t say anything she was so cute! But damn if that girl didn’t end up with horse piss all over herself. I wasn’t gonna offer any information because then they would have wanted to bring that child into my office to clean her up…no freakin way! Yeah I’m a bad person.

These lovely horses and their carriages provide a quaint way to view and learn about my beloved city; they also know NO etiquette. They just piss and shit at will. They all wear the little diaper sacks so the shit goes in there, but they piss wherever they want. When they do, the driver drops a little half rubber ball on the street with flag sticking out.  The street cleaners drive around and pressure wash the spots with some sort of chemical, that smells just as bad. If you visit a city that has horse carriages and you see one of these, don’t pick it up! I’ve seen people do it “wonder what this is?”

Today in Charleston, it’s gorgeous, 80 degrees, sunny, perfect spring weather, just beautiful. So on my lunch hour I decided to go to my favorite park, sit on my favorite bench, and be quiet. I wanted to reflect on the events of my life over the past few weeks. As I was walking to the park, I was also using my phone, texting, checking email etc. I don’t know how I missed it but a carriage was stopped in the middle of the street and the driver was telling a story. I crossed the street directly in front of the carriage and started to walk parallel to the horse. All of a sudden, I heard it, the forceful splash of horse piss hitting the pavement. I panicked, jumped out of the way, and immediately started feeling my pant legs. The driver makes a lame joke ” haha we just sprung a radiator hose” and the tourist all enjoyed a great laugh at my piss panic. Let me just tell you this; if I had any, even one drop of horse piss on me, I would have needed to be admitted to a mental institution. I would have never gone back to work. But have no fear my pants were dry…this time.

Moral of the story…NEVER text and walk, it could kill you. Also, my irrational fear… is not so irrational.



Living in Brazil

All right, I’ve been a little serious with my writing lately and maybe a little depressing.  Not to worry, my life is wonderful and I’m happy for who and what I have today.  Today’s post is just a little something, to make us all laugh…I hope.

I have lived just north of Brazil for 20 plus years.  Brazil is really the only place to live anymore, and if you are still living in the forest, MOVE!  I do not care how old you are, yes Mom this includes you.  It’s gross, even for men.  Be free my friends, be free!  Besides, if you want anyone to go downtown with you, for you, to you, you better be living in Brazil.

Of course, I’m not talking about the country; I’m talking about the technique.  I have been an avid shaver for decades, a few times a week I shave up the cookie.  (This is a term I learned in pole dancing class, I will explain in another post)  You gotta get real close, this requires doing acrobatic tricks in the shower to get to those hard to reach places.  Yeah, yeah you’re going to get razor burn the first couple of times but eventually that goes away.  I don’t even think about it anymore.  NEVER UP!  ALWAYS DOWN!  Come on people, common sense.

Last summer I was taking a couple of anatomy classes and during lab, we would cut up with the instructor and some of the other girls in class.  One day my lab partner came in a little late.  She sat down and said, “Man, I’m feeling good today!”  Really?  What’s up?  “Girl I just got a Brazilian Wax and that shit is awesome.”  The professor piped in and said “Did you go to Claudia?  I’ve been going to her for years.”  She sure did!  As they told their stories, I was totally intrigued.  I had to give it a go.

I’m giving a huge shout out to Brazilian Wax by Claudia right here in Charleston.  She has several locations and they are all convenient.  Great staff and the price is right!  For $35 bucks, you can go to Brazil for weeks.  NEVER GO MORE THAN FIVE WEEKS, TRUST ME!  I went six weeks one time and I cried.  Really, I cried.  However, I still went back because the benefits are so much better than the pain.

Being an avid shaver and letting the bush grow in before your first wax was difficult to say the least.  Before you can go to Brazil, you’ve got to wait about a week and half to two weeks.  It felt so weird to have hair, yuck.  Arriving at the North Charleston location, this isn’t in the best area, I was a little skeptical but you only live once.  I walked in and it was very attractive, they had recently remodeled the inside.  I was escorted to the waxing room and told you can just lift your dress and take off your panties, lay down on the table and use this to cover up (she should have said, cover IT.)  …it was a washcloth.  Really?  Cover up?

When she came back in, the washcloth was gone in 2.2 seconds.  “Can you spread your legs and make a butterfly, feet apart” Uh…sure?  She then placed a little fan between my legs blowing a gentle breeze on my cookie, felt amazing but all I was thinking was why the hell is there a fan?  I soon found out.  It was a little uncomfortable to be lying there with my vajayjay just hanging out.  She started inspecting my hair growth kind of close; like the zoo monkeys.  “Ok,” she said, “we can do it, you have enough growth.”  Thank God, because at this point I’m not sure I would have gone back.  She went straight to work.

They use a soft wax that doesn’t require any cotton strips to rip it off, it just dries, and then they rip, hence the fan.  So she starts to apply this green wax to my hoo hoo.  Damn that shit is hot!  I was beginning to completely understand the fan now.  They are not afraid to touch your stuff either.  She waited a few moments and she looked at me and said “ready?”  Ok, HOLY MOTHER OF GOD!  I look down and see itty-bitty spots of blood…seriously blood!  Not a lot and not all over, apparently I had a few deep “hairs” this proceeded for about 30 minutes with some tweezing etc.  I felt like a buttered english muffin because she got all the nooks and crannies.  She finally said, “Ok all done, roll over” Huh?  “Roll over” uh, ok?  I roll over, fan still between my legs, bare ass showing.  She said, “Ok need your help now” Uh huh?  “What do you need me to do?”  “Spread your legs, hold your cheeks, and spread ‘em!”  Alrighty then.  When the hot wax hits that most delicate place, it’s a little warm and a very odd feeling.  Forget that there is a woman staring at your bunghole.  I said, “Wow, doesn’t even bother you does it?”  “No I’ve seen thousands, it’s just a job.”  Uh huh, ok, rip, rip… surprisingly that part didn’t hurt, weird right?  “All done, you can flip back over.”  She hands me the washcloth to cover up in case I’m feeling a little modest at this point.  What do I need that for, is there anything you haven’t seen?

This is what I will say; it feels pretty freaking amazing afterward, totally worth the pain and humiliation.  Once I starting going regularly, I no longer cared about some woman touching my cookie and removing the hair from my arsehole. The more you go the less it hurts too.  During the winter, I did go back to shaving but I’ve made my appointment to get my summer smooth back.

Try it you’ll like it…so will he or she.



Don’t Boil The Rabbit

WARNING: This post contains content that may require a tissue and maybe even a diaper. Vulgar language follows.

I have a handful of movies that I love, several of them happen to be Quintin Tarantino films. I love his quirky, dark humor. Reservoir Dogs is one of my all time favorite movies. To show my love for Mr. Brown, I have opted to give all of my girlfriends code names for the purposes of protecting the not so innocent.

I have four women in my life that are the foundation of my sanity. Well as sane as someone like me can be. There’s not much I wouldn’t do for any of them, except pick them up when they fall off a bar stool. I’m just gonna point, laugh and take a picture. This story really revolves around myself and three of the four girls but I can’t start any stories about girlfriends without first introducing Ms. Blush.

Ms. Blush is the single most important person in my life, she has held me up when I couldn’t stand, spoken for me when I lost my inner voice, given me strength when I was too weak to go on, made me laugh so hard I’ve peed and kicked my ass when I was being ridiculous. She is not my blood but my soul. At the end of my life when I look in the mirror and can’t recognize myself anymore, I will look at her and see everything I am. She is the greatest love of my life. We’d be lesbians but neither one of us like pussy. Ms. Blush, I love you and look forward to the day that we can laugh in person and not on the phone. Although this story doesn’t include you I know you love rabbits too.

Rabbits are magical little creatures, no wonder they get pulled out of hats and have carrot envy. Every women should have one that they can call all their own. They offer comfort when you’re alone and can bring extreme pleasure when nothing else seems to help. Ms. Pearl however has never loved a rabbit before and it has been our little group’s mission recently to help her understand the importance of loving such a magical creature. Ms. Ruby my smokin hot, new friend and Ms. Violet my old friend who brings me peace and love are all desperate to share the amazing benefits of holding a rabbit near and dear.

Ms. Pearl an angelic women who blushes at most of the things I say and do, like the f-bombs that I drop on a constant basis and completely vulgar conversations that I seem to have quite loudly whenever we are in public. (Which is often since Ms. Pearl is a runaway in-patient at Betty Ford…shhh don’t tell). Seriously though she has been a dear friend also there in my time of need for the past few years. I’ve called her in the middle of the night crying and she has come running. Who wouldn’t want to bring joy to someone like that.

For our girls Christmas exchange Ms. Violet and I went shopping for rabbits. We found a great shop that had a huge selection. After looking at some really large ones we decided an itty bitty bunny might be best for Ms. Pearl, I mean if you’ve never taken care of one before you should start small. What a coincidence that we found four really cute bunnies all exactly the same but in different colors. Perfect! we’ll take the set.

Ms. Pearl was very grateful to receive such a thoughtful gift, so was Ms. Ruby. Ms. Ruby was so excited she took hers out with us that night and showed our favorite hot bartender just how fast it could jump. He was very impressed and had a little carrot envy himself.

A few days later Ms. Pearl sent me a desperate message. My bunny has run out of food! Ms. Pearl REALLY loves her new companion. This particular bunny required a special kind of food and was difficult to find. After a couple of failed attempts she finally found the right food and bunny was snuggled up again giving her joy. We all realized that maybe Ms. Pearl needed another rabbit to keep her bunny company that required less maintenance. Thank goodness that her birthday was right around the corner. She now has another rabbit to hug and squeeze and call her own that requires less care and as an added bonus can go swimming with her too.

When owning a bunny or rabbit there are some care and maintenance requirements. Always give them a bath after you’ve played with them but more importantly be sure to put them in a safe place where no one else can find them or play with them. They are all your own and should only be giving you the attention you deserve.

I have been known to be a little careless with this so here is your WARNING. If you have housekeeper be sure that your rabbit has been put away otherwise she will very lovingly and neatly put him on your nightstand. When arriving home to find my rabbit perched so openly, I immediately panicked. What if she played with my rabbit? Do I need to boil him? Upon further thought I realized, hey, she’s the housekeeper, I’m sure if she enjoyed his company she cleaned him VERY well… Yup it happened. An even worse moment of rabbit discovery, when you have a house full of guests and are trying to disperse your teenage kids from the adult crowd by sending them to your room to watch TV; be sure that your baby bunny is safe and secure and not hiding in your bed. When your eighteen year old son walks back in the room full of people looking like he’s seen the white rabbit and says “Uhhh… yeah Mom I’m not going to watch TV in your bed”. Lets just say we both curled up on the floor laughing. There are no boundaries left in that mother son relationship…yup it happened.

Be safe and happy petting. Love yourself…love a rabbit.