When I Want Your Opinion I'll Give It To You

We (most of us) claim we don't judge others, but we do it. Own up! How many of you have been in a mall or a grocery store to see a child out of control and judge that parent for not keeping the kid in line? Your opinion is basically you saying, "I could raise that child better."

And yes, YOU do it, too.

It's human nature.

If you are a parent yourself and see this typical site, you don't go back in your mind when it was YOUR KID making an animal of him or herself, and how you wished the ground would open and swallow you whole so you could just be somewhere else. Nope. You flip to the whole, "Well they need to put a leash on THAT monster!" judgment.

If you do not HAVE children? Shut the fuck up, Seriously. In your head and your words? Just shut up. I won't pretend to know what it's like to be an astronaut or a teacher or a heart surgeon. I might have opinions on such things but I know that they're based on assumption and not fact.

That's the problem: Opinions ARE, indeed, like assholes. We all have them. Usually they all stink.

I rarely ask someone's opinion unless I REALLY want to know what they're thinking. I know they have an opinion. Most of the time? I just don't give a shit.

I live my life in accordance with what I think, and what my husband thinks. HE is the only other person I need to worry about either pleasing or pissing off in my life decisions. To an extent, my children as well, but they're still little. They don't get to have an opinion on whether or not we buy the generic or name brand cereal because they don't control the money or bring any into the house. They'll eat what is bought for them. That kind of thing.


It would seem lately, in certain circles, I have been the topic of discussion on how I live my life. More importantly, what I do for a living. More specifically, how much time it takes me away from my family.

Let me say this now, to whom EVER might be reading: Piss off.

Piss off!

My schedule varies. There are times I'm only gone a weekend. It's actually more often than not that any given comedy booking takes me away from home on a Thursday and brings me back Sunday afternoon.

Lately I've had several longer gigs closer together than I PREFER, but I'm not so stupid that I'm gonna turn down WORK that I get PAID FOR to CONTRIBUTE TO MY FAMILY's BUDGET.

I was gone almost a full week in April.
Then I turned around and took a full week three weeks ago.
Then I had another full week last week.

Apparently this got the chickens clucking. So much so I started to let the bullshit "Talk behind her back but NEVER TO HER FACE" crap get to me. I contemplated leaving comedy and expressed it to my husband who, accidentally, repeated it to our sons.

Spencer came at me in a vengeance.

"MOM! Are you REALLY quitting comedy????"

"No," I said to him. "I had a moment where I thought I might but decided against it."

My son hugged me TIGHT and said, "GOOD! I don't EVER want you to quit comedy."


So there you have it, back-talking, back-stabbing fuckwads.

MY KIDS are FINE with me leaving. At the thought of me quitting my son got MAD. Kids are more honest than adults could EVER be. IF he had any residual bad feeling about mommy leaving here and there, his reaction would've been "But I wanted you to quit" or "I'm glad you're quitting".

It was the stark opposite.

My husband 100% supports me.
My kids are behind me.

If I had a "regular job" where I worked Monday-Friday I'd actually be gone MORE. Every day. Without fail. GONE. And I don't judge parents who HAVE TO do this to make ends meet. I feel BAD for any Mother who HAS TO leave their kids in day care, who has to leave them every day, only seeing them a few hours a day, to make it in this tough world. Of course the nay-sayers will say "You don't HAVE TO be a comic". The fuck I don't. It is in me like someone gets called to be a nurse, a teacher, or any other profession that calls to someone. If you've never been inspired to BE something? I feel sorry for you, too, but back the fuck up off of ME.
When I am NOT on the road -- which is more often than when I am ON it -- I am here, 24-7. Morning, noon, night, through the night, with my children.

I don't give a rat's fucking ass where YOU stand. YOUR opinion? Doesn't matter. It's one of those ones that smells like an ill-wiped asshole after a scathing Taco Bell burning bowel movement.


And you know what? If it's jealousy behind your opinions? Fuck off. Just... fuck off. Delete yourself from my life, because I've had enough of all of it. I've had enough of the whispers and talk and bullshit. I'm done with it. I'm done with people who want to spout ill will because I picked something I wanted to become and am going for it. The chains holding you back in YOUR life are ones you wrapped all over yourself. THAT has NOTHING to do with ME. Get honest with yourself about your own self loathing and stop projecting it on to ME.



While we're at it?

Yes, I am getting my tits done. August 16th to be exact.

I'm going to take this mangled rack that nature gave me and HOPEFULLY have it turned into something normal. Or close to normal.

I am tired of adjusting my bra 900 times while I'm clothed.

I am tired of the broken blood vessels all along my right shoulder because the padding that I put in that side of my bra is NOT flesh, therefore does NOT stay put, therefore causes that bra strap to slip, slide, gouge my skin....

I'm tired of looking in the mirror and seeing what I see.

If you can't understand that? AGAIN.... Soooooo not MY problem. I'd like to know how my boobs became a point where YOU have any say. Tell you what, you tell me something about you that is so personal and let me chop at it with my opinions and then we'll call it even.

Yes, I have brought this very subject out of the shadows of my life and shared it with thousands of strangers. I put this topic on the block for discussion, however, I didn't ask what YOU thought about it. I shared because there are many women who have this feeling about themselves who like to have someone to talk to. If you have never felt like a freak? Don't judge us freaks. And if you HAVE felt like a freak? WHY would it be okay for you to judge someone else in the SAME BOAT YOU ARE IN?


Often on Facebook I WILL ask other parents advice about issues we have with our sons: Perhaps those replying have been through the same situation with children who have grown past the age of ours, and can help. Maybe their point of view is one I can't follow. The childless masses can kindly STFU though. If you haven't raised a child your assumptions don't mean jack. Parenthood IS the one area where, if you're not in the game? You don't get to play.



I feel better now.

I just shot out a lot of opinionated stuff here.

Get pissed at me if you feel you have a right to. I honestly don't care any more. I'm tired of worrying what other people think.

If Pat, Spencer, and Max are fine with the choices I make in this life? I'm doing right by my family. THAT, at the end of the day, is what MATTERS. The rest of you who want to piss and moan and bitch and whisper? You're just background noise. Like static on an old radio someone forgot to throw away.

Confidence is Key

In theory, men want tall blond women with HUGE tits, a tiny waist, a tight ass and zero body fat. They want them stupid because thinking too much hurts the brain.

Ladies, please do not belittle men this way.

As I approached my 40th year, I found a new understanding of the male species. It took me a while, but a light finally went off.

The educated heterosexual man appreciates WOMEN. All shapes, sizes, heights, colors...

There is very little about me that fits the "Ideal Woman" by any societal check list.
I'm not thin.
I'm smart.
I'm witty and brash.
I'm not blond. Well, not ALL the time.
I have malformed, funked up boobs that I talk about in great length on stage.

Still?
Men flirt with me.
I've actually been propositioned a time or two after shows.

It's how I carry myself. It's in my own personal confidence. Confidence can be VERY sexy.

Yes, on occasion, as I discuss getting older in my comedy show, and point out various unpleasantries of my physical self, there will be a man in the audience who is picturing me naked and about to puke. My confidence isn't doing a THING for him, and you know what? That's okay. I'm a comic, not a stripper. My success on stage doesn't hinge on my fuckability factor.

Some men simply do NOT find a "woman of size" or the latest PC term for chubby chicks, "Big Beautiful Women" attractive. That's fine. I personally could never picture myself in a sexual scenario with a man who's short. We all have our quirks and preferences.

Still, women, daily, are hating on themselves for something they are not and can never be. We wake in the morning with grudges against our genetic selves. Not all of us are going to BE that tall, big-boobied blond we THINK men want. Because of that we diet constantly, we scowl at the "Beautiful Ones". We loathe our own reflection. We lament our own flaws that are mostly out of our control. We fail to see the beauty in who we are, and let it weigh us down more than the extra pounds ever could.

Try something new today.

Walk with your head held high. Shoulders squared off. Wink at a stranger. If they would happen to be rude enough to act repulsed by your flirtation? Throw your head back and laugh, as if they don't realize what they just missed out on.

Pick TODAY to be more aware of your attributes than your flaws.

Pick TODAY to love yourself a little more.

Don't go all hog wild and do it all at once. I wouldn't want you to strain anything! Stop looking at your nose and wishing it were different. I'll bet it's the nose of your mother, your father, or a distant relative that loved it just fine.

Stop seeing laugh lines as something to Botox away. Rather, be glad you laughed enough in life to earn them.

Stretch marks and sagging skin aren't pretty, but they exist in nature. So do scars, cellulite, age spots, freckles, and other things I've heard women bitch about endlessly. So often it is NOT our body, but what we do WITH IT, that makes us attractive.

Take pride in who YOU are, not what society is telling you you "SHOULD" be.


Life is short. Remarkably short. Rather than wasting another second lamenting the size of your ass? Shake it a little as you walk. If 'they' don't like it? 'They' don't have to look. Insecurity is a way of holding a person down.

Break those chains and fly today.
Don't wait for tomorrow. Just do it.

As Long As We Both Shall Live

As of Saturday, I'll have spent 11 years married to my husband Pat. We've been together now over 12 years. That's like first grade through graduation, people. THINK about that for a moment. How we learn, as children, to be students, to accept new knowledge and ideas, and grow as individuals through school?

Marriage is the same way.

I look back at the beginning and what a mess I was as an individual..... I want to cringe. I won't though. It's all a learning process.

I was insecure, I reserved emotion at times, I "waited for the other shoe to drop" because what my husband has given me is a reality I thought only existed in movies.

In my family, save a few limited examples, the hard fact was men leave.
They leave.
They don't stay and build a history, a family, a life.
Men left.

I kept waiting for him to "find someone better". Why not? Happened the first time around. My ex-husband is still, to this day, married to the woman he had his affair with. While that affair isn't the only thing that crumbled my first marriage? It sure as hell didn't HELP matters much! *snicker*

If I thought Pat was looking at other women? I lashed out. Of course in my mind I'd be calling myself a hypocrite -- I looked at other men, but I also knew that in my heart of hearts none of them could EVER pull me away from Pat. It's normal to flirt, look, even fantasize about other people. But if I thought HE was doing it? I didn't understand for the longest time his heart was like mine: Sure, look, but.... nothing will pull me away.

It took me a long time, even after the vows were spoken, to fully trust him. I wish I could go back and go "All In" sooner. Still, the caution was needed. I had to grow. I had to learn. I had to advance just like one leaps from Elementary School to Junior High School. Those growing pains are needed. How we loved one another through some of our more hellatious fights is beyond me. We had some doozies in the start, and some bad patches along the way.

But, more often than not, by a far larger percentage, the love outweighed the trials. Laughter far surpassed the tears.

We have watched one another grow into both amazing individuals AND grow into the "Us" we are.

He makes me laugh when I think I can't.
He believes in me when no one else has.
He sees a beauty in me I don't even seen in myself.
He is, simply put, my Best Friend.

We've held one another up through losses and sickness. In October of 2009 when Pat got sick, it dawned on me that we were mortal. Some day? We won't be here any more.

My Uncle Tom stopped by yesterday, and he spoke of he and my Aunt Mary being two months shy of their 60th Anniversary before she passed away. Makes my 11 years with Pat look....... so small. But we all gotta get through the 11 before we can hopefully reach that 60! And I hope we do last that long. I want us to be that old couple holding hands in the park....... Okay not the park. Perhaps a night club for the elderly.

I want this man in my life as long as I'm lucky enough to still walk this rock.

We've weathered our storms. Big ones. Small ones. STUPID ones where we both look at each other and say, "WHAT the FUCK are we even fighting about?"

We love so deeply sometimes it doesn't feel of this Earth.
Lately we have rekindled something, but that's not even right, because it implies it was "like this" before and it wasn't. We're growing again, to a new level of "Us". Less fights. More open communication. There are conversations we've had I know would terrify some married people. We are honest with one another about everything. It makes for a wonderful union.

I can't think of a single person on this Earth who is as best a match for me as my Yeti.

Hump Day Hump Lesson: Some Of You Are NOT Paying Attention

I read this today, just minutes ago, on a friend's status on Facebook. I have to say I'm simply DUMBFOUNDED by it. Rather than spout off on someone else's page, I borrowed the status to pen up a note. Buckle up, kids....





"What happens when a woman has an orgasm? The uterine walls contract, and she experiences rhythmic, muscular contractions of the uterus, vagina, and clitoris. For some, it may feel like a typhoon. For others, just a flutter. So instead of trying to bring her to orgasm, men should concentrate on ensuring that women enjoy the interaction. Absence of an orgasm doesn't mean failure, but absence of arousal usually does."



Um.... WHAT??



First of all, shaving down the act of orgasm to medical fact makes it sound clinical. That's like saying all that happens for a man is "His penis becomes rigid, friction will make ejaculate expel." Right. That's all there is to it.



Let's pick this apart a bit, shall we?



For some, it may feel like a typhoon. For others, just a flutter.

If it's only a 'flutter', I'm going to suggest that the women this applies to masturbate more. I realize I'm blessed in being multi-orgasmic and have the Big O's that shake the roof. I get that. BUT.... a flutter? I think of butterfly wings as fluttery. Butterfly kisses are fluttery.

Orgasms RIP through a woman. Your toes go numb sometimes. Your thighs shake uncontrollably. The face becomes flushed. Your nipples harden. And with proper knowledge it can happen again and again, with or without a partner, in rapid succession.

That's not 'fluttery'. It can, at times, feel other-worldly. If you have yet to feel such a sensation, ladies, do it for yourself FIRST and then? Educate your lover. (Have we not been OVER this??)



If you're fortunate enough to have a lover or a toy that hits your G-Spot, it's not a typhoon either -- it's a virtual tsunami. That wet spot on the bed is mostly a woman's fault if things are done right. Women can release CUPS of fluid from a body that is worked right.



So instead of trying to bring her to orgasm, men should concentrate on ensuring that women enjoy the interaction.

Again I will say, WHAT. The. FUCK?? The interaction? As if her pleasure is not even secondary -- Hell guys, FIRST she should just enjoy the fact that you're there! SECONDLY, it's the interaction. Then MAYBE her pleasure can be a point of interest.....

FUCK THAT attitude, Ladies.

If he's only in it to pump and dump, and treat you like a jizz receptacle? More than once and it IS your fault. Relaying such indifference to the masses is WHY there are so many shitty lovers in the world. Pretending a woman's pleasure doesn't matter is a sure fire way to be labeled a DOUCHEBAG for an indefinite time period.



Absence of an orgasm doesn't mean failure..

Yes.

Yes it does.

Because I do NOT know many men who would stand for a woman getting their dick hard, taking a ride, and then jumping off before HE got HIS, leaving HIM a horny mess with no release. Unless you are having sex for the expressed reason of procreation only, and the ONLY point in the act is to get the Man Batter into the Oven, sex is about MUTUAL pleasure. If you can not please her? You have failed. Buck up, men. It's the truth. I'm not going to pat you all on the head and say, "It's okay slugger. You just try again next time!" If you finished, and she hasn't? You'd damn well better figure out how to help her finish. The only time it's okay is when she was dumb enough to fake it and lie to you, and I wouldn't blame a single man for THAT crap. Some women deserve Oscars for their performances. THAT isn't your fault... unless you are aware enough to LOOK for the BIOLOGICAL signs so eloquently laid out at the start of this. Noises can be faked. Other bodily responses can not.





but absence of arousal usually does.

This goes back to the whole, "If you have to spit on it first, you're missing some major steps here..."If you're glazing over foreplay and she's not ready? This falls on BOTH parties. A woman should speak up if she's not quite THERE yet, and a man needs to be aware of when he's rushing things too damn fast.



Bad sex?



Now?



In 2011?



Damn it, I thought I covered this already.



I did mention in a previous note almost about this VERY same thing that a woman will, on occasion, "Take one for the team" if she's just NOT feeling it and wants to please her man. If you love him, and you know the mood in your own chemistry is NOT right for things to work in the Netherlands, it's a loving thing to just make love to him and not worry about what happens with your own body, but it should NEVER NEVER NEVER be expected to BE that way. Ever. I mean, any woman who's ever nailed a man with Whiskey Dick will tell you that trying to get HIM off in that particular circumstance can feel daunting and endless. But to say that a woman's orgasm doesn't matter in such a stark statement belittles everyone involved.



What shocked me was that this status was posted by a woman, not a man. From a man? I might understand it -- a little misogynistic humor that we women do not count. But not from a fellow sister. Not from a grown woman.



Ladies, seriously, it sounds very feminist of me but damn it -- Own your own "O".

MY God Forgives YOUR God For Being IGNORANT.

Okay, I've about had enough.



The assault on women via the Religious Republic NAZIS is ENOUGH.

One Republican wanted to make it a crime punishable by prison if a woman had a MISCARRIAGE.

Another said a woman should prep for rape by buying an Abortion Insurance Clause on her medical insurance.

All Repubs, all spouting their RELIGIOUS DOGMA to the masses.



First of all, in this GREAT and WONDERFUL land we call America, we have Freedom of Worship here. Do you know what that means? It means some dude can pray to his coffee grounds every morning and no one can do shit to stop him. If it's what he sees as religion? NONE of your business, MY business, or the government's business.



In that, I'm SICK AND TIRED of blow-hard after ass-tard deciding a woman's uterus is up for attack and debate.



Until I can randomly decide to walk across the street, grab a set of balls, and pierce, kick, wound, punch or spray paint them? STOP deciding what is legal for MY UTERUS.



Believe what YOU want to believe, I'll believe what *I* want to believe, and when we're dead? ONLY THEN will we know who was right.



YOU do not have the right to my uterus. Do you understand that? I don't care what Bible quote you want to toss at me, what scripture, book, belief.... I DO NOT CARE. Because I am not YOU, and in THIS COUNTRY, I have a right to believe what I understand and believe.



I do NOT believe the God I believe in would want a woman to go through 9 months of pregnancy if she were raped by her father, brother, uncle, or brutal stranger on the street. And I don't REALLY think God would expect her to buy "Abortion Insurance" juuuuuust in case such an evil event would fall into the pattern of her life.



I do NOT believe the God I believe in would intentionally send a soul from heaven to rest in a uterus of a mother who is a crack head, meth addict, hooker, alcoholic JUST to make that sick and screwed-from-day-one's child's life a lesson to us all. WHAT KIND OF EVIL GOD DO YOU BELIEVE IN??



I do NOT believe the God I believe in would send a soul from heaven into a family where the Mother will eventually beat her child to death by cutting its arms off, or tossing it in a microwave, or letting her man sexually abuse a 9 month old until it dies, or be born only to be tossed into a trash can. Again I ask, WHAT KIND OF EVIL GOD DO YOU BELIEVE IN?





Yes, there are going to be women who abuse abortion as birth control. It sucks. IT FUCKING SUCKS. I told an old friend to get the fuck OUT of my life because she kept doing it, refusing to use actual birth control, refusing at the time to let me adopt one of those babies. I WAS WRONG TO JUDGE HER. No matter how sick and twisted it was to me? IT WAS NOT MY PLACE TO JUDGE HER.



AM I YELLING?





YOU ARE DAMN FUCKING RIGHT I am YELLING.





This organ that is attached to my cervix? You know, up inside me? IT IS MINE.



If you think you have the right to decide, based off your interpretation of a book, what I should do with it? Fair game. Let me then put laws in effect on something in you. If you're going to say I can't do with my body what I want to? Pick something of yours I get to control and say what's-what about. YOUR Uterus? Your dick? Pick something that is at the CORE of you and let ME control it.



DO NOT toss that "Adoption Option" at me unless YOU, PERSONALLY, are willing to adopt a child IN THIS COUNTRY who has been neglected, abandoned, abused, born with drug addiction, fetal alcohol syndrome, and all the other issues of the children that FILL our system. In 2009 there were an estimated 100,000 children in the court system waiting to be adopted. Oh, but they aren't babies. They aren't newborns. "We want one fresh out of the oven." Really? You fucking hypocrite, then you don't care about CHILDREN. You care about standing on a platform made of quick sand.



MY body. MY choice.

YOUR GOD doesn't factor into it.

AT ALL.



Don't get me started that it's about not wanting our Government to pay for abortion either. You are SO being fed a line of BULLSHIT if you believe that. Our government funds wars I never signed on for. No one asked me if I wanted MY tax dollars spent on tanks, death and destruction, and that level of grief to the service men and women being ripped from their families to take part in a war that has been wrong from the word "go". I don't remember anyone asking me, "Is it okay if I spend this money here?"



This is an assault on our right to Worship how we believe, or NOT worship at ALL. If it were not, God would NEVER be mentioned. Either they're trying to wipe out ANY religion that is not Christian based, there by making the United States like the hell we fled from to COME to America in the first place, or these sick people are feeding OFF the religion they claim to be a part of, using it to further keep WOMEN down.



If you're a woman, and you voted for ANY of these assholes? I'm ashamed to share a gender with you.

If you're a man, and you voted for ANY of these assholes? I hope your dick goes permanently limp until they're out of office.



If you can wish ill will on my uterus, I'mma put a Red Headed Moon Following Heathen Whore CURSE on your COCK. Because this is America, damn it, and I have every right to at least believe it might WORK.

The Facebook Survey: Chapter One

** Warning: Adult Content ahead! **


A while back, I extended the opportunity to my Facebook friends to partake in a survey. A Sex Survey. I kept the men and women’s questions separate, but there wasn’t much of a difference between the list of inquiries. I even sent out a final group of questions that were the same for men and women. I promised answers would be kept anonymous. The only person who read these? Me. I didn’t even let Yeti take a glance.

I’m kicking off my dive back into blogging with several chapters devoted to the answers given to me by my trusting and HONEST friends.
To those who so willingly participated? A BIG thank-you. And a thank-you for your patience as I hammered out how to go about organizing all this information!

The spectrum of people who answered went from one end to the other in age, social standing, and experience. Married people to single people to those in relationships that were new to years in. Committed or otherwise. Even had a virgin pop in with some opinions.

That said, we’re going to start “Chapter One” with…..

DOES size matter? HONESTY here people….
Penis or boobies?
On what applies to you, what do you prefer?

Oh, you guys had FUN with this one!

By the time this question rolled around, “Honesty” was in FULL SWING.

I had men admitting to me they did NOT like Bigguns because they “didn’t like big ole titties floppin’” in their face.

Women saying the bigger the better and on the flip side, the smaller the more likely they were going to gain entry into the back door.

There were men who PRAISED the large and ample sweater puppies, wanting them as big as human heads.

I had to touch on this one first, because almost every answer I got negated the one before it on what was the “norm” of what we think someone prefers.

Big dicks are awesome.
Then?
Big dicks hurt.

Big tits are awesome.
Then?
Big tits sweat too much.
The over all emotion about boobs was that real is more alluring than fake.

The over all opinion about the penis was that women wish men wouldn’t think it is ALL they have to offer. One woman said she had a small lover who was her best because he knew what to do elsewhere. I’m assuming this man had oral skills, but the answer was not elaborated on.

So for each gender? Perhaps we shouldn’t stress so much. Work what nature gave you.

For my big breasted friends? Be aware of boob sweat. *snicker*
For my less than well endowed male friends? Don’t lament your less than average sized member.

Confidence is sexy across the board. No one wants to constantly placate and praise you to undo insults of lovers past. One man who was explicit in giving dimensions of his dick said that even though he KNEW it wasn’t small, a former lover insulted him about it enough that he thinks it is, and he basically begs for affirmation from every woman he’s with.
That would become…. Exhausting, don’t you think?

So yeah, be proud of what you got, and work what you were given.

Next Chapter?

We are SO diving into the Anal Sex question. Again, with the spectrum of people who participated, we have a HUGE array of opinions from one extreme to the other. I saved a LOT of quotes from THOSE answers.

Subscribe, keep reading, and eventually I’ll become a habitual blogger again….. Thanks to my friends who gave me the answers to these questions…..