Dirty South here!
Just wanted to let people know about my recent trip to a professional (that's right) bull riding competition down in Arkansas.
This was my first time at a PBR, as they call it in the south, and may I just say that I am really pissed off that I did not marry into bull riding money. Apparently these guys can take home in excess of a quarter of a million a year! The really good ones get more.
So, my recently seperated sister wanted to go to this thing and dragged me along. She was meeting a guy there and she said she had someone for me. Now, this usually means that I am going to be sitting with a guy who is a step up from quasimoto all for the sake of my sis........but not this day! This guy was HOT! Smoking hot. I sat by him and in my typical lady like fashion, I proceeded to get shit faced on cheap beer and cuss at everything and everyone around me. I laughed when the bulls humped eachother and screamed for bodily harm to come to the poor bull riders. Charming.
I felt his attention begin to wear off a bit so I did my best strip pole dance in an arena seat to Def Leppard's "Poor Some Sugar on Me". This is always a crowd pleaser (even though I did not consider the ten year olds sitting behind me) and I felt his eyes begin to return to me. While I was on this roll, I decided to seal the deal by eating a corn dog that was atleast 22 inches long. By eating, I mean performing felatio. Yup, felatio, on a fucking hot dog covered in bread and mustard. I am telling you what. Just because I am pushing 30, does not mean I cannot revert to high school tricks!
Now I really had him. Well, my drunk ass thought I did, but alas, I was not yet done with my dance of seduction. The whole crew went to a lovely bar called the Electric Cowboy. This is a lovely Southern establishment with cheap beer and cheaper women. There is a huge dance floor where line dancing is a must and an electric bull. Nice. I could not ride the bull because my tits were everywhere as it was. I am 28, but I insist on wearing shirts that would not compliment a barbie doll. I decided to dance, dance, dance. I put on my best seduction face and went to town. I clogged, I stomped, I slid, I feel, I twisted and turned, and I flirted with my dude. By flirted, I basically stalked him and made sure no ladies were talking to him. This seemed to work because come bar close, our little entourage all headed to the car together. I convinced him that he should stay with me in a twin bed at my sister's house. Why he agreed, I still do not know, but I thank the god's in heaven, because I had the most mind blowing sex in a twin bed that I have ever had. This guy had the goods and he brought them home to momma! Old girls' still got it!
Basically, I have learned two things from this experience. First, if you want to have the most mind blowing sex of your life, make sure that you take your dude to watch a big ass manly bull throwing off guys who must have balls of steel. This will make him feel like he must prove himself to you and he will ride you like the cowboy he is. Secondly, if you are over 25, always keep your bra on when you are riding him. C'mon girls.......you know better. It's just gross to see those torpedos.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
My Orthodontist's Son and the Bloody Weiner
Wreck -
Eighteen years old and still a virgin, I was begging to give it away. This is a somewhat difficult task when your mouth is filled with braces and you uncontrollably drool and don't notice it. The unibrow and moustache didn't help much either. Nonetheless, there was a drunk boy with a drunk me in the backseat of a Honda my senior year of high school and I was determined to blow him. Did I mention I had a mouth full of braces?
So - I slowly creep my way down to the 'privates', which is what I called them at that point, and began to slurp and suck and bite (what did I know). When I felt 'something', I ran downstairs and found my best friend. With a clogged nose, which I thought was filled with semen, I nasally said "i think I got it up my nose". She turned on the lights to find a scene from Carrie. I was covered in blood from my hairline to my collarbone.
Running to his side she screamed, 'Are you okay?' He said, 'it was kind of teethy' and pulled back the covers to discover a pool of blood.
I got a bloody nose and didn't give another blow job for 8 years.
Eighteen years old and still a virgin, I was begging to give it away. This is a somewhat difficult task when your mouth is filled with braces and you uncontrollably drool and don't notice it. The unibrow and moustache didn't help much either. Nonetheless, there was a drunk boy with a drunk me in the backseat of a Honda my senior year of high school and I was determined to blow him. Did I mention I had a mouth full of braces?
So - I slowly creep my way down to the 'privates', which is what I called them at that point, and began to slurp and suck and bite (what did I know). When I felt 'something', I ran downstairs and found my best friend. With a clogged nose, which I thought was filled with semen, I nasally said "i think I got it up my nose". She turned on the lights to find a scene from Carrie. I was covered in blood from my hairline to my collarbone.
Running to his side she screamed, 'Are you okay?' He said, 'it was kind of teethy' and pulled back the covers to discover a pool of blood.
I got a bloody nose and didn't give another blow job for 8 years.
Can I purchase some crack?
Wreck speaks:
The night started out subtley as most nights do. A quiet Chicago eve at the neighborhood bar. The wind was warm and little white lights flickered in the background. Cut to the chase - I got wasted and ended up alone wandering the streets of Sheridan Park for some reason looking to buy crack. I've never smoked crack. I've never been a big fan of drugs. I've never, to my knowledge, wandered the ghetto soliciting drugs.
Here are the details of the night that I can recall - I found a crackhead. I gave him my purse and said 'take what you need'. He gave me a crack rock. I freaked out and took the recently purchased crack rock and threw it in a dumpster. I found my best friend's house and Doomsday answered the door. I proceeded to tell her the events of the evening, which apparently included a make-out session with an old Indian cabbie.
The next morning the crack addict, who had acquired my phone in the evenings happenings began calling my fiance and mother asking for $80 to get my phone back to me. I called Sprint and cancelled my phone. I will never, as far as I know, try to buy crack again.
The night started out subtley as most nights do. A quiet Chicago eve at the neighborhood bar. The wind was warm and little white lights flickered in the background. Cut to the chase - I got wasted and ended up alone wandering the streets of Sheridan Park for some reason looking to buy crack. I've never smoked crack. I've never been a big fan of drugs. I've never, to my knowledge, wandered the ghetto soliciting drugs.
Here are the details of the night that I can recall - I found a crackhead. I gave him my purse and said 'take what you need'. He gave me a crack rock. I freaked out and took the recently purchased crack rock and threw it in a dumpster. I found my best friend's house and Doomsday answered the door. I proceeded to tell her the events of the evening, which apparently included a make-out session with an old Indian cabbie.
The next morning the crack addict, who had acquired my phone in the evenings happenings began calling my fiance and mother asking for $80 to get my phone back to me. I called Sprint and cancelled my phone. I will never, as far as I know, try to buy crack again.
The Ladies! The Ladies!
Rundown on who you're talking to:
The Wife - epitome of responsibility. She is the momma of the group. Feeds us, clothes us, comforts us, advises us on all aspects of life. She's the old 'cool girl' from high school who actually ended up successful. She's still hot, still funny, still intelligent, and amazingly sweet.
Doomsday - H.O.T. Long blond hair, tan, fit, and scary to the point that you want to touch it like a hot, sexy stove even though you know you're going to get burned. She is angryyyyyy! She will fuck you and spit on your mom's grave.
Dirty South - tall, blonde, elegant at first glance but she's got a mouth like a truck driver and knows how to use it like a fuckin' Hoover. She is, by far, the smartest of the group and she is grounded in her southern roots. She likes to wear backless dresses and dance to hair bands like a backup ho.
The Wreck - infaliably the craziest of them all. Having spent time in a mental institution, she's certifiable and manages to keep the rest of the group feeling sane. God help us all. Lock up your kids, put some panties on your dogs, and don't answer your phone! BTW, big, big, big, big, big, big, big boobs and lips. If you see a pair of tits and lips walking your way, run mother fucker.
The Silent Partner - Chirper, lady of the lake, she keeps us wet (in the mouth with drinks, ya sickos). This woman can entertain and I mean with a bar in the back and a drawer full of dildos. She'll enter into the stories at will but does not share our passion for destruction. Which is cool.
The Wife - epitome of responsibility. She is the momma of the group. Feeds us, clothes us, comforts us, advises us on all aspects of life. She's the old 'cool girl' from high school who actually ended up successful. She's still hot, still funny, still intelligent, and amazingly sweet.
Doomsday - H.O.T. Long blond hair, tan, fit, and scary to the point that you want to touch it like a hot, sexy stove even though you know you're going to get burned. She is angryyyyyy! She will fuck you and spit on your mom's grave.
Dirty South - tall, blonde, elegant at first glance but she's got a mouth like a truck driver and knows how to use it like a fuckin' Hoover. She is, by far, the smartest of the group and she is grounded in her southern roots. She likes to wear backless dresses and dance to hair bands like a backup ho.
The Wreck - infaliably the craziest of them all. Having spent time in a mental institution, she's certifiable and manages to keep the rest of the group feeling sane. God help us all. Lock up your kids, put some panties on your dogs, and don't answer your phone! BTW, big, big, big, big, big, big, big boobs and lips. If you see a pair of tits and lips walking your way, run mother fucker.
The Silent Partner - Chirper, lady of the lake, she keeps us wet (in the mouth with drinks, ya sickos). This woman can entertain and I mean with a bar in the back and a drawer full of dildos. She'll enter into the stories at will but does not share our passion for destruction. Which is cool.
I almost made out with Corkie!
Doomsday here - ready to recall and recount the recent evening in which I fucked The Prince's bff.
Text messages from the day after:
- "Hi. Hope you had a good day. Just want to make sure that what happened last night stays between us, right?"
- "100% between only us. No reason for it to be otherwise."
The 'night' is a blurry mess filled with lesbians, widows and a bunch of crazy bitches who are too old to do what we do. I woke up that morning to my couch cut in half at either ends of the room and my lamp strewed across the floor in shattered glass.
What we did, I cannot say. Not out of modesty or guilt, but because I was blacked out. Best part, I don't feel guilty at all. The Prince can suck my vaj.
Text messages from the day after:
- "Hi. Hope you had a good day. Just want to make sure that what happened last night stays between us, right?"
- "100% between only us. No reason for it to be otherwise."
The 'night' is a blurry mess filled with lesbians, widows and a bunch of crazy bitches who are too old to do what we do. I woke up that morning to my couch cut in half at either ends of the room and my lamp strewed across the floor in shattered glass.
What we did, I cannot say. Not out of modesty or guilt, but because I was blacked out. Best part, I don't feel guilty at all. The Prince can suck my vaj.
The Wife instructs on how to reach Domination Nation
Crush his ego, ladies. My husband is an attractive, successful, frat boy with tons of frat friends who like to drive around in their BMW 750's and cheat on their girlfriends. So... how is it that he is scared shitless of me, you ask? Well, I'm going to tell you how to bring them down, break their spirit and make them worship you while you belittle them and they take it. First, embrace your craziness, use it to your advantage and let them know you don't need them - they'll die without you.
Bullets for seizing his soul (details to follow in further postings):
Bullets for seizing his soul (details to follow in further postings):
- Be hot. Be sweet. Be the midwestern girl next door.
- Find their ego source - intelligence, looks, money, friends, etc. and find the flaws.
- Start digging into that source and let him know how pathetic his life is.
- Take care of him, take joy in it cause you love him (you HAVE to learn to cook) and do the domestic shit. Believe me, they will be hooked. At this point you can set his asshole on fire and piss on it to put it out and he will thank you.
Now, I will go into how to get from that point to being 11 years later... More to come.
Evil Dr. Drillbit does some DRILLING
One year, 1 month and 22 days after we parted ways, we met once more. Dr. Drillbit lives in the west loop, could not live farther from my Uptown abode, in a bachelor black-leather style loft. It took a couple cups of courage, a.k.a. scotch to get me to the Racine address and up the elevator shaft. He stood in the doorway waiting looking pleased with himself, as he always does, and with a swift kiss he instructed me to remove my clothes. I ran to the bedroom wearing a pair of Dirty South's Vicky Secret thongs and a leopard print bra that I had bought for Drillbit the year before - it was the first time I'd worn it. And... he kissed me. Alot. Like he meant it, at least for the moment.
He declothed, I dropped to my knees and did not open my eyes again till he grabbed my hair and pulled me up just to throw me back on the bed. I won't go too far into details, only that it was... what I needed. If Dr. Drillbit was created for any purpose, it was to fuck. Thank you, Lord.
He declothed, I dropped to my knees and did not open my eyes again till he grabbed my hair and pulled me up just to throw me back on the bed. I won't go too far into details, only that it was... what I needed. If Dr. Drillbit was created for any purpose, it was to fuck. Thank you, Lord.
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