Here he is fighting for his blankie. We’ll wrap his toy in the blanket and then he’ll find it. If he can’t get to it easily then he will just chew through the blanket to get the toy.

I turned around to this. Sometimes Sweety scares me.

Last night I call Sweety on my break at work. And he tells me that I will be picking the boys up from baseball practice tonight after I get off today. Okay. Fine. I’d planned on maybe going to do something (but, uh, since I was going alone it’s not like I had to cancel with anyone or anything.) but this is okay. I’ll get the boys and then we’ll go to a movie or something. It’ll be fun. I miss having them here on the weekends because we never do anything “fun” anymore. It’s just school and work Monday through Friday.

I tell Sweety to tell the boys to take a change of clean clothes to change into after practice and he does.

This morning, after he’d dropped the boys off and they’d been told that I was picking them up, the coaew calls to let him know that she will be picking them up so as to not inconvenience me. Since BB doesn’t have practice on Saturday (she’d originally thought he had practice Saturday morning) she will pick them up to not trouble me.

Um, no. She’s not doing it to save me any trouble. It was perfectly motherfucking fine to inconvenience me when she thought she was going to have to pick them up at 9 p.m. and then get back up to bring them to practice at 10 a.m. the next morning. It was easier for her I picked them up and then we took them to practice the next morning. Don’t try and fucking say that you’re concerned about bothering me.

If she wasn’t able to pick them up when she thought there was a practice the next morning, what makes it any different if there is no practice the next morning? Nothing except now she doesn’t have to get up early and tote them over to our town so it’s okay to get them the night before. In actuality – it was easier for her to pick them up tonight than to drive out here early tomorrow morning like she had said she would. Fried cunt.

Sweety didn’t understand why I got so pissed off at the change in plans. Don’t tell me that I’m doing something and then 12 hours later tell me “nevermind, coaew said she’d pick them up so you wouldn’t have to.” My point is that she was completely okay with me going out of my way if it made things easy for her but now that it wouldn’t make things easier for her she wasn’t. Don’t bullshit me and say she gives a rat’s left nut as to my plans.

I told Sweety that I’m not an on-call taxi service and to not volunteer me for fetching anymore if it’s her day. I told him I’m perfectly happy to take them to practice when they’re here but I’m not going to do her a favor and “swing by” and get them on my way home from work on Friday night.

A couple of weeks ago, BB missed something baseball related because they were doing volunteer work somewhere to get a Disney ticket in exchange for volunteering. coaew called Sweety and told him, “I deserve to take them to Disney World before they’re eighteen!” (Hey! You also deserve to pay for some fucking school lunches, medical appointments, braces, shoes and how about the occasional field trip! Wanna do that? No, I didn’t think so.) What. The. Fuck? This just shows how much she does not know her kids. Those boys have no desire to go to Disney. We’ve asked them. They want to go to Universal or somewhere for the thrill rides. Not to Disney.

I’d like to kick her in the coochie until my foot breaks. Seriously, if I could have that opportunity I’d totally sacrifice a foot.

This is the second marriage for her and her fiance (they’re both widowed) and they’ve had a whirlwind courtship. And decided to have a wedding soon – why waste time when you know you’ve met The One, eh?

The theme of this is “feel the love” and yellow is her color.

I was thinking little candle holders. That’s as far as I’ve gotten in my thinking.

Give me some ideas, peeps!

I guess you could call this a guest post.

Without further ado…..

A Very Bad Egg

I recently bought a vibrator. After much searching and reading of reviews, the one I settled on was the Trinity 10 Speed Vibrating Egg. Check it out, if you would. It is fairly important to the story that you have a real idea of what I’m talking about. I’ll wait…

Back? Okay. So, my highly anticipated new toy arrived, unfortunately, the day my husband left with our daughter to visit his family. I hadn’t told him about my purchase, figuring it would be a pleasant surprise. That said, I didn’t have the patience to wait to use it, so I decided to take it for a test drive.

I inserted the egg and grabbed the remote. Turned it on. Let me just say, it was nice. Not wanting to waste too much time, I decided to scroll through the varying speeds. I pushed the button on the remote. No change. Huh? Pushed it again. Again no change. Weird. It is supposed to have a range of up to fifteen feet and my arms are far less than that. I figured I’d remove the egg and give it the old once over. Maybe the batteries were loose or something. I reached up and tugged at the attachment that would, I’d so innocently believed, retrieve the egg. You may be sensing that things were about to get ugly. Well, you’re a fucking genius.

Tug. Tug? Okay, fine, TUG!

I cannot even begin to describe to you the sinking horror the swept over my face when I realized I was standing in my bedroom, holding the wire attachment, or at this point I should more accurately describe it as DETACHMENT, that was supposed to remove the vibrator from my previously happy nether regions. Yes.

Deep breath. This can’t be that bad. I’ll just, um, fetch it out. I’m flexible and all. Surely I can reach up there and get it. And that’s what I did. Or tried to do. The moment one finger made the faintest contact with my former friend, I felt the egg slip out of my reach. Very much out of my reach. And? It rested WAY farther than I had any hope of ever going. Where no man had ever been before. Nope, not even the big ones. It simultaneously turned sideways. I think I may have heard it laughing.

I’d be a liar if I told you I’d given up then even in the face of mounting hopelessness. Out of sheer desperation, I performed some likely never before seen acrobatics on the floor of my bathroom in a vain attempt to rid myself of the, oh yes, I failed to mention, STILL VIBRATING egg. No luck. I realized fairly quickly that there was no way I was going to dislodge this thing all by myself. Might I add that I’ll probably never again be able to use those grilling tongs to cook a hot dog again? Ahem.

Okay. Calm down. More deep breaths.

I’d just go to the emergency room. Surely they’ve seen crazier shit than a Mom of two hoping to spice up her sex life with a vibrator stuck in her vag. Right? I mean, really. Right? Shit, I’d hoped so!

But first…FIRST, I had to shut this fucking thing off. Without even absolute silence the quiet hum was very audible to me. I had no doubt any other patients in the waiting room would be sure to hear it. The remote was not cooperating. I deduced that the wire attachment was in fact the antennae and that likely the remote hadn’t worked because the wires were loose, hence my present predicament. I thought, maybe, just MAYBE if I could get the remote close enough to its counterpart it would work. And so…I carefully, VERY carefully (with the powerful grip of a stealthy ninja!) held the remote with my thumb white from pressing so hard on the OFF button and began its ascent into what is apparently, the great fucking abyss, I guess.

And? It worked. YES! No longer was I a woman about to go to the emergency room with a vibrating vibrator stuck in her hoo-ha. I was simply a woman about to go to the emergency room with a vibrator stuck in her hoo-ha. At the very least I was NOT a woman about to go to the emergency room with a vibrating vibrator AND a remote stuck in her hoo-ha. There is a god. Or a Something. But hey, I’m agnostic and had always been open to the possibility. Now I think I’m a firm believer in Something.

I quickly arranged childcare for the baby and made my way to…The Emergency Room.

Fortunately there were only three other people there. A couple with a sick kid. Well, it’s unfortunate the kid was sick, just run of the mill sick it appeared, but I was glad the place wasn’t packed. I filled out the requisite paperwork, leaving the Reason for Visiting part blank until the very last. I finally settled on, “I have something stuck in my vagina. Namely, a small vibrator.”

I handed my clipboard to the young (might I add, attractive) guy at the check-in counter and returned to my seat. After a moment, he picked up my paperwork, giving it nary a glance and said, “All righty, and why are you here today?”

“Um, I’d really kinda rather you just read my explanation on the paper.”

“Hmm, let’s see. Ah yes. I wouldn’t shout that across the room either. Okay. Come on back.”

With a bit of overkill in the feigned dignity department I made my way across the waiting room and took a seat in the chair he’d waved me to.

“Now, I know you are just fine, but I still need to take your blood pressure and your temperature.”

“Well, don’t be surprised if my blood pressure is a little high what with me feeling like an asshole and all.”

He laughed. I was relieved.

All was well. He accompanied me to the guts of the ER, a nice private room (finally), where I was seated with (another, DAMMIT!) man who was to obtain more information.

Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.

“So how long has this, um, object, been stuck?”

“Well, I suppose it depends on whether you’re asking how long it has actually been there, which I’d say about two and a half hours, or how long has it been there that I would consider it stuck? Which I’d say a few minutes over two hours.”

Okay my dear readers. You caught me. I enjoyed the test drive for a bit before deciding to check out the other speeds. Carrying on…

“And, how would you rate your pain right now on a scale of zero to ten, zero being no pain at all, ten being extreme pain?”

“Well, if you’d asked me that question two and a half hours ago, I’d have said negative ten, but since you’re asking me now, I’ll say zero.”

Cracking a smile, “Okay, we’ll get you set up with a female doctor and nurse.”

“That would be GREATLY appreciated.”

You know, the rest is par for the course (I imagine, at least) as far as having a small egg-shaped vibrator removed from your hoo-ha goes. I had an awesome female resident (who successfully completed her first removal of a ‘foreign object’ from a vagina, though she preferred the term ‘slippery little sucker’ to ‘foreign object’. Patayto, potahto, as they say). The assistant nurse was an absolute doll. I’d finally shed all pretense of dignity before their eyes and admitted I was maybe a little, tiny bit embarrassed to which the nurse responded, “Oh, honey, don’t you dare be embarrassed! You have NO idea what we’ve seen. At least you put something up there that belonged there!” I was pleasantly surprised by that observation since I was absolutely CONVINCED I’d get some sort of somber lecture about the need for extreme caution when presenting my girly bits with foreign objects. Whew. Dodged that bullet. Um, that was funny, what I just said right there. Because these vibrators are also called bullets. Jesus, I’m just full of the humah today!

So there you go. That’s my story and I wanted to share it with you because a month out (don’t be mad it took me this long to tell you) I have finally rid myself of the abject horror of the situation enough to realize this story? Is pretty fucking funny. And people should get to laugh at it. I’m just oozing with a sense of purpose right now, thanks to you!

Also? A little birdie did tell me? Never, ever stick a real actual egg up your arse. Much less three of them. Apparently they are a bitch to retrieve. Even for the experts. And coke bottles make for bad dildos, ladies. They can create a pretty strong vacuum and be VERY difficult to remove. Don’t say I didn’t tell ya.

May you all have a fine weekend that isn’t interrupted with objects hiding in your coochie. Or the coochie of someone you love. And “thank you” to the lovely lady that told her tale!

And my least favorite…

Do you see that in the bottom right corner? Nipple, people. Nipple. Waaaay down there in the right corner. Someday, I’m going to get my tits lifted so they salute the sun.

I almost didn’t post that photo but I thought it wasn’t fair (But really, why should I worry about fair? This is my blog, right?) to just post the stuff that I thought made me look nice. So, there. You get to see my Snoopy-nose tit.

Happy HNT! Only one more day til the weekend! Woot!

Climbing up a woodpile to get away from a headless chicken.

Wanting to jump off the edge of a mountain when we were looking down at deer in the woods below.

Seeing the school bus full of kids going to the zoo drive by me and my grandparents while we were driving to the optometrist. They went to the zoo and I got a fucking eyepatch to wear over my lazy eye. That made headstart fun. Not.

Hiding under the covers in the bedroom I shared with my grandparents because I was afraid that Snuffleupagus was going to come out of the closet. The bedspread was pea green with little fuzzy-knobby things on it.

Getting an adult library card when I was in the third grade. Loving having the whole library at my disposal.

My little sister locking me in the bathroom when we were home alone. She knew I’d kill her if she let me out so she didn’t until Mom got home.

The way the hot tar bubbles on the road would pop when we stepped on them on our walk to the town swimming pool.

Grandma making us wear orange lifejackets to the swimming pool. We quickly taught ourselves to swim so we could ditch those things.

Learning to drive a stickshift. Deciding that I would never own such a vehicle.

The song that I was on when I danced with my first husband when we were in high school.

Listening to my sister-in-law give birth to my nephew. Thinking that I would have to have my ass knocked out if I ever had kids.

The way my nephew’s head felt on my cheek when he was a baby.

My niece’s little cone-head when she was born. She looked like Marge Simpson.

The horrible way my niece’s arm looked when she broke it under my watch and the way she bounced on the ground when she fell.

Holding Sylvie’s hand when we go places. I know she won’t let me hold it much longer.

What Sweety was wearing the first time we met.

The sneaky look on Sweety’s face after he scared the hell out of me by popping a straw on our first date. That’s when I fell in love.

LB’s face peeking at me over the edge of the bed the first morning after I’d met him. Waking me up to play and be Pink Ranger.

BB asking me if I wanted to see the surprise (engagement ring) that his daddy had hidden away for me. I told him no but he was dying to show me. We waited til Sweety got home to see it.

He’s started running in to steal Stinky Dog’s food. The barking. For the love of Pete, the barking. If I don’t do what he’s wanting RIGHT NOW then the barking starts. And after about 15 seconds Stinky Dog joins. Then you hear Tiny Dog screaming. It’s like they’re all in my head.

I’m trying to be sneakier about feeding them. If they know I’m feeding them then it’s 10 minutes from start to finish with the barking. If I sneak out of bed in the morning I can get a headstart on them. Then when I come home at night I tiptoe around to fill their bowls before they realize that I’m home.

Helps keep my eardrums intact.

But if we’re keeping score – Tiny is Alpha. For now.

Nekkid…

Happy Thursday! Be it half nekkid or not!

Later I was thinking about it and felt bad that I’d let one human being rain on my parade. If she was a regular fixture somewhere I was then I guess I’d have to get used to her. It was just easier to leave on Friday.

Sweety and I have been out of sorts with each other for a few days now. Sweety is really awesome 99% of the time. But that other 1%? Really fucking mean. I’d seen a lot of the RFM here lately and wasn’t taking it well. I can handle the RFM if it happens sporadically. But if it happens and I can remember the last time it happened? Then it’s happening too much. I know a lot of it is work related with him so I’ve been quiet and tried to ride it out. I decided that I was tired of riding it out and threw a grenade at him last night and we’ve both been doing a lot of thinking.

One of the things he said was it annoyed him that I’d come right in from work and get on the computer until bedtime. I pointed out that I didn’t come right in and get on the computer. First I cleaned all the trash, recycling and dirty dishes up from the kitchen. By the time I’m done with that and walk into the living room to see my three sloths on the couches? I’m not about to start cleaning at 8 o’clock at night while they watch me. I want to sit in the corner on my computer and melt into the couch.

Today we rationally talked through things and we will start getting along better.

Where did we have our talk? At the dentist’s office I mentioned in the post below right after I told him about my cell phone blowing up. That gave us the giggles and we were able to move on into a conversation without anybody getting all bent out of shape. And it helped that we were in public too. Don’t want to cause a scene.

We get situated in the tiny waiting room at the dentist’s – really, tiny. Six waiting chairs and the receptionist. All of a sudden, my phone starts to ring. Have you heard the ringtone at the end of this commercial? Customized ringtones annoy the shit out of me for some reason. (If you have one, then I’d probably like it. Because you’re cool. But when I’m in the grocery store and someone’s phone goes off and it’s a song or a weird sound it makes my eye twitch. I’ve only bought one ringtone ever and it was part of a song that Sweety & I like. And I don’t have it anymore.) But I heard that horribly obnoxious thing and thought that I had to have it to use as my alarm clock ring. I set it as my actual phone ring the other day and forgot about it.

And I forgot to turn off my phone before going into the dentist’s office. You should have seen the look on the little old lady’s face who was sitting three feet away from me when it started blaring out of my purse. Of course I was flustered so it took forever to fish it out of my purse to shut it up. I’ve changed it back to the regular ring.