A Couple (Few) Things…

First of all, I’m beginning to think that the current state of the economy is affecting my sex drive. I don’t fuck nearly as much as I used to. Just wanted to throw that out there.


Second, since I work the overnight shift and have plenty of time to surf the web, I run across quite a few forums where people find it necessary to lambast people with tattoos. FUCK YOU. If you don’t like what I put on MY body, don’t look. If you don’t like tattoos, fine. Don’t get any. But don’t look at me sideways because you see a hint of a tattoo peeking out from under my t-shirt sleeve. This is the 21st century, folks, and believe me, there are way bigger and worse things in this world that deserve your side-eye. Get off your high moral horse. I don’t care if you think it’s not ladylike. If having tattoos makes me unladylike, then I will proudly claim that title. Shit. I may just get it tattooed on me.

Third, I think I am immune to caffeine. I’ve maybe gotten 16 hours of sleep in the past 5 days, and I can literally feel my body shutting down. I’m looking forward to a temporary reprieve from my sometimes-grueling work schedule, but I know I won’t accomplish anything more than catching up on lost sleep time. This makes me kinda sad.

Fourth, I hate moving.

That is all.


TMI Thursday: Belly Bloopers

It’s that time again! Click the pretty lil’ button below for more TMI Thursday tidbits!

TMI Thursday

This is only mildly TMI, but TMI nonetheless!

As most of you ladies probably know, pregnancy is not exactly one’s most graceful period. You’re swollen, hormonal, forgetful, and clumsy as all hell. I took pride (and thanked God) in/for the fact that during my previous two pregnancies, I never took any major tumbles or was a part of any major catastrophies (except for when I gave birth to the twins, but that’s another story).

My husband and I had a roommate while I was pregnant with my youngest. He happened to be a nursing student and one of my husband’s best friends. I was not worried about anything “weird” going on, and I had no shame in going to him about random pregnancy-related issues. One night, I had just come home from work, and he was in the living room studying. It was summertime in Houston, and as we all know, even though the sun had gone down hours ago, it was still fucking hot outside , and all I thought about during my drive home was a nice, cleansing, sweat-removing shower. I would have taken a bath, but while getting into the tub was not much of a problem, getting out of the bath was no mean feat.

I chit-chatted with the roommate while I waited for the water to get to the right temp, and was finally able to succumb to the merciful pulsations of my brand new showerhead (not like that, you pervs) . I lathered my hair with shampoo and took to the task of bathing, and, finally, shaving my legs.Yes, even though I was 8 1/2 months pregnant, I still shaved my legs, because I hate hair anywhere on my body–except for my head, of course, and pregnancy was not going to stop me from having smooth legs. It was not easy, but I always managed to shave without slicing my legs up or busting my ass.

Except for that particular day. I am pretty careful about making sure any soap or shaving gel has run down the drain before I make any moves, i.e. propping my foot up on the side of the tub, but I must have missed something because when I went to switch legs, my right leg decided to go out from under me and down I went. I still, to this day, do not understand why people reach for the shower curtain in an attempt to prevent a fall, because we all know that, unless you weigh about the same or less than a shower curtain, there is a good chance that the rod is not going to hold your weight and will indeed come crashing down on top of you. Lucky for me, the damned thing decided to instead land on the floor by the tub, but my ass still hit the floor of the tub with a nice thud, and pain shot through my hip and side where I landed in an attempt to not land on my belly.

I could not move. Period. I tried like hell to right myself, which is not very easy when your center of gravity rests in your abdomen, and my left arm was under my body and apparently one arm is not very useful in helping to move a 180-pound pregnant woman (shut up). I wiggled my toes and turned my ankles in their sockets to make sure they were not twisted or sprained, and laid there for a second while shampoo ran into my eyes and tried to figure out how the hell I was going to get out of the tub, when I remembered that roommate was only a yell away.

I’ve never been a modest person, and modesty definitely goes out the window when you are pregnant because your body is no longer your own. However, I found it to be quite disconcerting that my male roommate is about to see me in all my naked, pregnant glory, and I, for some reason, reached for my towel on the towel rack about two feet over my head, got frustrated and started to feel tears well up in my eyes. Damned hormones. It was then that roommate knocked on the bathroom door and asked if I were okay. I mumbled “no”, and thanked my lucky stars that I hadn’t locked the door.

He came in with his head turned slightly, aware of my embarrassment at having him see me butt-ass, and reached up and turned the shower off. “Okay, I’m going to try to flip you over a little and then help you up.” I giggled when he said “flip you over”, and my mood lightened a little bit as the absurdity of the situation hit me. He gave me the towel to cover up with, then bent down and grabbed me around my shoulders and under my legs, and I hastily reached for the towel to keep my goodies covered during the maneuver. I had almost succeeded in this when my elbow slipped and one of my boobs popped out from underneath the towel, about 2 inches from his face. Um…yeah. We laughed that off and he successfully helped me get upright and I could feel my face burning as I thanked him profusely and apologized for the impromptu peep show. He was blushing far more furiously than I was, and we both continued to laugh as he walked out of the bathroom, shaking his head.

TMI Thursday: Why I’m Stickin’ With Charmin

TMI Thursday

Good toilet paper is expensive.

And now I know why.

The cheap shit stays with you.

By “stays with you” I mean it stays.with.you.

Case in point.

Redbone and I planned a little rendezvous at his house late one night. I showered up, got dressed, and made sure to pee because I had a nice little drive ahead of me and there is very little worse than driving and having to pee. You know, you catch every red light, and you still continue to drink whatever you have handy because you’re thirsty, regardless of the fact that your bladder is about to bust.

So, I make it there and he and I proceed to get nasty. I lay back on the bed, legs spread, and he gets in between them while I prep myself for what I have been waiting for forEVER.

Him: “Are you on your period?”

Me, aghast: “No.”

Him: “Why you have a tampon in there?”

Me: “I don’t.”

He hands me a mirror and turns the bedside lamp on and tells me to take a look. I do.

I have fucking toilet paper shreds down there. One of them is certainly long enough to be mistaken for a tampon string.

Now you would think that after all Redbone and I have been through that there would be very little left to truly embarrass me. But this certainly did.

Me: “Well, at least you know I wipe.”


I no longer feel like I belong here. I need to get the hell away from Houston. This city is suffocating me. It’s a beautiful city, but it’s just not for me anymore. I really don’t know where this came from, but over the past couple of years, I’ve just wanted to get the fuck out. I don’t even know where I’d go. But I’d love nothing more than to just pick up and leave and not look back.

Too bad my fear of change gets in the way. Fuck.

Nothing on the Brain…

Yeah, I know I’ve been MIA for a few days, but I’ve fucked up my hand and it hurts like a sonuvabitch to type…anynowihavetodiddlemyfiddlewithmylefthand, look for me on Thursday with a super-great TMI for yo’ ass!

Aaaaaaaannnnd, my blog is a little Paris Hilton eye wonky because I’ve moved to my own domain, http://www.therapyiseffinexpensive.com/. It’s kind of a big deal for me because I feel a little more comfortable in my blogging skin and I have high hopes for this thing. So, please excuse the mess, and enjoy!

They need to fix this shit quick…my blog is really effed up!

TMI Thursday, Part Deux: Dear Gag Reflex, I hate you. Sincerely, Zan

As the luscious LiLu says: ***Alright, folks, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell,bout someone else’s!***

TMI Thursday

If any guys happen to read this: if your girl hesitates to deep throat your dick, or if she pulls away when you try to push her head down, don’t keep pushing her head down! There is a reason for this, and a damned good one!

Lemme tell ya a story.

Picture it. Summer, 2001. I’d just moved into my own place and had been pretty busy “breaking it in” with this lil’ cutie I’d been boingin’ since my senior year of high school. (This is not the deflower-er…I’d moved on to…ahem…bigger and better things.) He was older, so whenever he and I hooked up, I’d pull out my lil’ bag of tricks and really work it on him because I wanted to make a good impression…every time. Keep ’em coming back, ya know the deal.

So, being that I was a broke, 19-year-old college student at the time, my dinner that night consisted of…you guessed it…Ramen noodles. I’d added my own little flair to them, and if I said so myself, they were pretty damned good. By the way, I hope you’re taking notes. There will be a test on this portion later.

Anydickmakesmegagbutiloveit, the boy called me at about 12am and told me he was on his way over. I jumped up and washed my ass real good, put on a lil’ sexy sumthin, and waited for what seemed like an eternity. Did I ever mention that I was a horny bitch? He came in and we got right to it. I was super horny and foreplay was hardly a necessity, and by that time, I’d gotten to the stage where giving head actually turned me on…it’s a control thing, I know. So I’m blessing him with a little skull action, and he’s apparently enjoying it, when he suddenly gets the not-so-bright idea to force me to take his dick deeper into my mouth. I already knew it was coming so I slowly lowered my mouth further down on it, taking it in as far as it could go.

But was this good enough for him?! Why, no! Because before I knew it, he was pushing my head down even farther, and before I knew what was happening, I puked all over his dick.

I’m sorry, did you miss that? One more time for the not-so-swift ones: my Ramen noodle dinner re-appeared all over his dick and pelvic area. I’ve never seen a man move so fast.

Him, over the rush of water from the showerhead: “What the fuck?! You puked on my dick!”

Me, through puke-tears and God only knows what else: “I am so sorry!”

Him: “Sorry? You’re sorry? You puked on my dick!”

Me, while cleaning myself and the mess that was made on the bed: “Well, it was your fault.”

Him: . . . . . .

Me: “Yeah, it was your fault, because you kept pushing my head down even though my tonsils were already tickling the head.”

Him: . . . . . .

Yeah. That’s what I thought.

In case you were wondering, yes, he and I are still friends, and as far as we are concerned, this never happened. This is the first time I’ve mentioned it since then. Hope you enjoyed!

…To Forgive is Divine…

Chances are you have been wronged by others on several occasions. Yes, people do fucked up shit to people all the time, but nothing hurts more than when someone you love, someone who you thought loved you messes over you in such a way that you don’t know what to feel. And let’s face it. Forgiveness is a tough undertaking. It’s the right thing to do, but it is so damned hard to overlook the wrong that someone has done to you. Along with forgiving that person, you often also have to decide whether or not you still want him/her in your life. Think about it: could you live with seeing someone or dealing with someone on a regular basis, all the while knowing that this person fucked you over? How damaging would that be to your psyche? Especially if that person is smiling in your face, acting like nothing ever happened. More often than not, this is the case. It is not easy to just cancel someone out of your life, and you figure that maybe that person can change, that they can become a better person based simply on the fact that you were able to find that one redeeming quality in them that made you forgive them for what they did instead of kicking their ass to the curb. Unfortunately, this never happens. At least it hasn’t in my experience. He/she continues to do the same shit they were doing, if not to you, then to someone else. So what is the point? Why should I be the bigger person?

Furthermore, what is the point of forgiving when you cannot forget? Is it that you should always keep that shit in the back of your mind so you don’t allow the next person to do you the same way? I’ve told myself over and over again that I forgive him for what he did, but when I think about him, I get a pit in my stomach and my fingers and toes begin to tingle, and not in a good way. I wanted to hurt him. I wanted him to feel as fucked up as I felt when he did what he did to me. I never thought I would allow someone to get next to me in such a way to almost force me to go outside my character and do some vindictive shit that would have surely turned his world upside down. I’m not like that. But I thought he wasn’t like that, either. And now, he is in a situation where his world has been turned upside down. Should I be glad? Should I jump for joy because he is getting what he deserves?

On the other hand, who am I to say who deserves what? I am only human, myself, and Lord knows I have done my fair share of dirt to others, and while some of them may not have forgiven me, others did. So maybe I have answered my own question. Maybe I should forgive because others have forgiven me. And isn’t that divine?

Nicotine Fiendin’

I was a regular smoker for 9 years before I decided to quit. It was really a spur of the moment thing; I literally woke up one morning and told myself that my current pack of cigarettes was going to be the last pack I bought.

And for a couple of months, it was. I prided myself in being able to go into a store and not want to purchase a pack. For a while, I didn’t even consider it.

My temptation comes when I am around others who smoke. Even though I can no longer stand to smell the damned things, I still find myself wanting to take a drag of one when I am around others who are enjoying the charring of their lungs. I know it is normal to feel this way, but I feel foolish for thinking I was impervious to such cravings. “No, I am stronger than those silly cravings. I don’t need Nicorette gum or hypnotism to break this habit.”

Willpower is no longer enough for me. Have any of you undertaken the shedding of a nasty habit? Were you able to break it? How? And if you happened to relapse. what triggered it?