gra-tu-i-tous |grəˈt(y)oōitəs|
{ORIGIN mid 17th cent.: from Latin gratuitus ‘given freely,spontaneous’}
1. uncalled for; lacking good reason; unwarranted : gratuitous violence.2. given or done free of charge : gratuitous advice.
vi-o-let |ˈvī(ə)lət|{ORIGIN Middle English : from Old French violette} adjective:
1. a bluish-purple color seen at the end of the spectrum opposite red.
2. a herbaceous plant of temperate regions, typically having purple, blue,or white five-petaled flowers, one of which forms a landing pad for pollinating insects. Genus Viola, family Violaceae.
3. ME.

Sunday, August 19, 2012

You've Got Some Nerve... The Tootie Edition

Yo, look at that dude hanging up there... creepy!

I was in third grade when my mother decided to enroll me into Catholic school. Moved around from CT to SD and back again, we moved into a low-rent apartment in a small town by Bridgeport after my father left us for his brother's wife. (Another fucked up story for a later time.)

Times were tough with mom left to raise two young children alone. Although we didn't live in a “bad” part of town, for some reason, my mother didn't want me to mingle with other “poor” kids. She forgot her Bridgeport roots. Can you say denial?


So, what did she do?

Naturally, she enrolled me into the parochial school across town, in the North end.
I was the only kid of a divorced family, the others' had remarried, and therefor were exempt from the automatic shame that befell my little head. Child of divorce- GASP! Here we were, on housing assistance, getting food assistance and such, and I was in school with the wealthiest kids in town.
Fuck me.

Future Fuckwad of America

The day after Christmas break ended was the worst. The fucking penguins would actually go up and down rows asking each kid what gifts they got for the holidays. Like they earned it or some shit. I dreaded that day.

Jason got a boom box and an Atari ™ system and this and that, beaming as he shared. Gloating fucker. Tracey got another Barbie Dream Castle ™ and a record player and 11 albums. Twat. Paul got a new 23” TV set and G.I. Joe gun play-set. Show-off.

Oh shit, don't call on me. Oh shit, don't call on me. Please don't call on me.


Penguin: Ms. H.
Me: Yup.
Penguin: It's YES, not yup. What are you, in prison?
{What the fuck was that bitch even talking about???}
Me: Pass.
Penguin: You cannot pass! I asked you a question!

Oh I passed alright. I passed gas.

I tooted aloud, right then and there, out of nervousness- and ran off to the girl's bathroom, mortified.

That was just the beginning.

Hard wooden benches make me nervous, apparently.

The entire student body had to go to mass every Friday morning. To cleanse our original sin or some shit. Something about that unnatural sin idea bugged me right the fuck out. Or perhaps it was the cold sterile slate and wooden church we sat in all lined up in pews that was so odd to me. But inevitably, when we were supposed to be praying, kneeling on those archaic wooden thingies, I got the heebie-jeebies.

Jesus is watching.

Oh crap, what did I do now???

It wasn't bad enough that the eyes of my all-seeing mom were constantly on me, be she there or not, but now this omnipotent motherfucker was oogling me too. I was doomed. I farted. So what?!? Sometimes it was audible and funny, other times, not so much... I had to blame that smelly kid, R. because everyone blamed him for any grossness. Poor fucker!
P.S. I'm sorry R.!

Seriously, I was a mess when I had to do my first confession. I mean other than Jeffrey Dahmer ™ types and other shitheads who are cruel to animals, what the hell does an eight year old have to confess?

So what did I do? I made shit up.
And maybe passed a squeaker or two.
You're welcome Father!

America's Favorite Tootie

Nervousness = Tooting.

Fast forward to not so long ago. I was taking some rad anatomy and physiology classes and had this sexy ex-dancer-turned-professor for my instructor. Dang he was hot! The day of the final exam, he pulled us aside two at a time and asked us A&P questions, using one person as the body/example and the other person naming muscular functions and stuff, as he pointed to them and moved their limbs and shit.
I was both farty and sweaty. I couldn't talk. The poor chick who was my partner was embarrassed for me. Fuck her.

1] it was my final exam
2] he made me nervous in the tingly way.

I had so many colorful naughty thoughts about Mr. Sexy pants. So many flexible poses ran through my mind. Did I mention his being a dancer? Not a stripper, a modern dancer. Yum!
Needless to say, that day was not a pretty moment in my career as a student.

Regardless, I still got an A.

It's nice to know I leave a lasting impression on people. Some more than others, obviously.

Wednesday, August 15, 2012

Wardrobe MalFUNction: The Summertime Edition

Ohhalalalaalaaaah deee daaah, Bitches!

It's Summertime, and you know what that means, right?
And opportunities for many obvious wardrobe malfunctions.
Think about it. *

After many many moons sans respite, a much needed mandatory vacation was upon moi, thanks to my employ. I pack myself, some clothes and my cat and we head a few hours due North to S. an P.'s place.
Take a day to be stoney and leisured to the maxx and play it by ear.

Monday, wake up, but no too early. Coffee and some editing and P calls out of work, and we all decide it's the perfect day for the beach.
Perfect day.

Pack up the car again and head North to Rockport, a quaint little seashore New England town. Tasty treats followed by a day sunning and swimming was just what I needed. There was a floating dock a few hundred yards out, for sunning or diving off of. I love that shit.

Something about my little ocean visits with S brings out the best in me. Salt air and saltier water on my skin and hair does me good. My body thanks me afterward. For a few summers, he and I have taken to the water and the meandering swims have proven to be prime time for dick talk. Old-School girlfriend time dick talk.

Can you see the floaty dive dock? 

Usually starting with...
"I am not one to tell dong details, and he would hate it if I said a word, buuut..."
To which I usually reply...
"Oooh, do tell!"

Oh, how I adore our sacred-oceanic secret chats.

I was swimming out to the floating dock when a small flock of 7 white Trumpeter swans flew over and landed near me. In a few seconds, they were heading over to see me.
"Hi there y'all!"

I tried to swim behind their cue but they had speed on me, being more aquatic than myself.

Did you see his flippers? Impressive!

We bid them adieu and headed for the dock. A little chatting, a little sunning and more folks kept joining in on the floating fun- it was time to jump. I decided to wait for no-one, so I took what seemed to me to be an elegant dive off into the ocean. The water was a lush green and didn't sting when I opened my eyes underwater. I felt like a kid!


We splashed about for a bit before coming back to shore to see what was up with our other vacationer. He was macking on his chaise lounger with his i-pod playing, in his own world. Some more sun, followed by some more sunny sun and it was time to go back in the water.

No swans this time, but we raced over to the dock seeing that it was almost empty now. I climbed on and found a primo spot to baste. The last intense rays were eeking through the atmosphere requiring us to stay in the water. I had to jump.

Taking what seemed, again, a perfect dive, I became a mermaid at home. And when I came up to the surface, my breasts had made way out of my suit, like 85%.
Nip slip.

I swam for a half an hour before I realized, and my bear-gay friend was pretending he:
A) Did not notice
B) Is grossed out by everything female- including boobs.

Which is a fucking lie...
EVERYONE loves boobs. 
Come on!

I righted the situation after a few laughs and forcing my friend to look at my exposed titty then went on my merry way.

The little town was lovely. It has many art galleries and performance venues and yummy places to get sweets and goodies. I found a new rad metaphysical shop called Dark Star and got some jewelry- which I needed. Heard a sexy saxophonist playing a sad ballad. I am sure whoever was blowing that tune was nude. Convinced of it, actually.

Finished my editing this afternoon and had a lax day today- Tuesday...

My car broke down en route home. Waited a long time for a ride to rescue me and kitty.
And when the tow truck driver arrived, he was smokin' hot.
And married.

Either way, here is a gratuitous cleave shot, backwards and not swim-suited, but enjoy anyway.

New Tank Top.

Sunday, August 5, 2012

Keep It HOT & Sexy, Bitches

Ahhh, the Summer. 

It is Hot.
It is Heavy.

So keeping with the theme of steam, I will share this little find with you all.
No, I am not Blobbing anywhere else, although I do appreciate other formats via which my fellow humans share thoughts and ideas and interests in cyborgland. 

Let's just say I was surfing for some erotica. 
Let's say that, okay?!?

SEE? Even puppets fucking know.

I am not going to call it porn, per-se, but some of you might.
So don't get all prude on me and unsubscribe because you haven't been laid in a long time.
I love you all anyway.

Not safe for work.
Not safe for the kids.
Primarily hetero, although not exclusively so.