Tuesday, September 16, 2014

Wine and waxing - of course it's a fucking disaster

Master Waxer was drinking her own wine before I arrived today. She must've had a rough day full of pussies and assholes because MW was already slurring when I walked in the door. Then we had a glass (or two, but who's counting) in prep for my vag-anus hair to be ripped out. We joked as usual as I laid back with my legs cocked at odd angles for her to get the wax on.

The air conditioner was going full blast, blowing right on my twat, and I swear my labia clapped to warm itself up. MW apologized for the freezing cold air, but she had been having hot flashes all day so she was trying to cool off. Well, that explained why she was hitting the wine pretty hard before I got there. Fanning herself with one hand, MW smeared some wax on me with the other. Holymotherfuckingjesuschrist the wax was hot hot hot. I yelped in surprise as hot wax dripped on my lady bits. MW was horrified and apologized profusely, starting to fan my twat with her hands. And then, the motherfucking wax stick fell from her fingertips in slow motion and landed in the thick of things on my veej. Of course the air was blowing so hard the wax was congealing faster than normal. When MW grabbed the stick and pulled it took a nice little hair ball with it. At this point I started laughing. I laughed so hard I forgot to maintain position and closed my legs...pretty much gluing my twat closed with wax. My vagina had to be oiled to dissolve the stickiness. If my appointment was any indication of how the rest of MW's day had gone, I couldn't blame her one bit for getting shit-faced. Before we got back to the business of removing the hair from my business I made MW pour me another glass of wine so I could cope with this awkwardly traumatic experience.

I finally left with my hair all ripped out, my lips unglued and a nice little buzz going. Dickhead was pissy when I walked in the door because I was later getting home than normal from an appointment. So I showcased my hard-earned wax job, asked him if it looked good and when he said 'yeah' and tried to fondle me I told him he needed to remember what it looked like because he wasn't getting any with that motherfucking attitude.

Now he's sulking on the couch, and I'm sitting over here drinking more wine and throwing out zero fucks that he's pouting like a fucking child.

Sunday, September 14, 2014

Clusterfuck moving weekend


Scrub, Big Daddy and Little Scrub will be living near me in just a couple of weeks when they leave Texas behind and close on their new house here.

Having their two favorite daughters (I'm the favorite of course, then Scrub, with our oldest sister so far off the favorite chart she's lucky to still be considered part of the damn family), in the same place proved to be too much temptation for our parents. They put their house on the market. Scrub and I weren't worried though. Nah. We thought it would take a while for them to sell since they live in the fucking middle of nowhere. But within a motherfucking month the house had already gone under contract, and the new owner wanting possession ASAP. Cue the anxiety attacks for Scrub and I. Especially for Scrub though. Our parents move here the same weekend Scrub and her family are moving. So what does the Bitch household do? Offer up our house for that weekend so everyone has someplace to stay while they close on a new house, or in our parent's case sign a rental lease.

"Are you out of your goddamn ever loving fucking mind?" yelled Dickhead when I told him.

"Relax" was my response, "That's the weekend of Bestie's baby girl's 1st birthday party. We absolutely can't miss it....so we'll be five hours away while the clusterfuck moving weekend happens. Besides, I'm previewing places for mom and dad so they can sign without seeing it and just move the fuck in."

Dickhead's lightbulb went on as his pea brain processed what that meant. "So, we won't have to help with moving weekend? Not even a little?" At my confirmation he exclaimed "Fucking A!"

That's right Dickhead, fucking A! Sorry Scrub, not sorry.

Friday, September 12, 2014

Oh, you wouldn't put up with that stuff? STFU

I haven't posted yet about the Ray Rice "beating the fuck out of his then fiance, now wife" incident, but those of you who've been with me since the early days of this page know how I feel about domestic abuse and the shit stains who put their hands on their spouse, partner or children in anger.

I've watched in amazement and disappointment over the last few days as friends in my newsfeed have blasted Janay, the victim, and said she deserves what she gets since she decided to marry the fuckwad anyway, and she deserves no sympathy.

Wrong. No one ever, let me fucking repeat myself, EVER deserves to be beaten. To be kicked, punched, spat on, mentally, and emotionally broken down until they can see no way out. That kind of ignorance that I saw in my feed of blaming the victim and judging her for being in that situation—yes I call it fucking ignorance—is what allows scum shit like Ray Rice and other abusers to isolate their victims. LOOK at Janay's face in the press conference where Ray Rice apologized for his actions...to the public, but not to Janay. LOOK at the fear on her face.
AP photo found on WBAL News Radio 1090 
Domestic violence is NEVER ok. I grew up in a home with domestic violence. I watched first hand how my mother tried time and again to leave my stupid sack of shit asshole douchebag stepfather that beat her, me and my little sister, Scrub. I watched that motherfucker throw knives at her, pull a shotgun on her. I watched my baby sister get tied up like a fucking hog and gagged when she was a toddler so "daddy could enjoy his peace and quiet while mommy was gone."

I was there when my mom tried to ask for help and was turned away. By her own fucking family. She married the asshole and needed to learn how to control him. Yeah, how fucked up is that shit? I was there when the police officers wouldn't take her beatings seriously. I was there when my mom would hide her bruises. I was hiding mine along with her. I was there when my mom felt she had no goddamn way out. I was there each time she attempted to leave and got beaten down even more.

Did you know it takes ON AVERAGE seven attempts for an abuse victim to leave their abuser successfully....or wind up dead.

I was there when mom kicked him out for good. I was there when that psychotic fuck came with a knife and gun and cut our fucking phone lines so we couldn't call for help, and he went around trying to break into our house.

Just the other day my mom called to tell me the fucking nut job had died. You know what I felt? After years of wondering if he would catch up with us? After years of avoiding using my maiden name and protecting my identity as much as possible in public forums like social networking sites? I felt RELIEF. Relief for my mother that she wouldn't get anymore surprise phone calls again from him after repeatedly changing numbers...even after getting remarried. Relief he wouldn't some day show up where I live. Relief my kids and my sister and her family were safe. My next thought was "I hope he suffered." I hope he suffered painfully in his death. If there is anyone on this earth that I can honestly say should burn in a hell of lava shit, it's him.

You. don't. know. what a victim has been through emotionally and mentally. Oh, you wouldn't put up with that stuff? Good for you. Have a motherfucking cookie, sit down and shut the fuck up for a moment. Open your eyes to something other than the sheltered fucking world you know.

When I read those statuses judging Janay, blaming her for "her part in this" by staying with a feces covered dick like Ray Rice, I was angry. That fear on her face? I saw it day after day in my own home. I wore that look myself. After taking some time to think about what my friends had written, women I consider kindhearted which made it even harder to swallow the shit they wrote, I knew I needed to break that ignorance they had displayed.

I hope this posts gets through to as many of you reading it as possible. Share it. You don't know who in your newsfeed is dealing with abuse. You think you know what someone else is going through? I guarantee you don't know half of it.

Domestic violence is never okay. Help break the cycle. Don't empower the abuser and isolate the victim.

Resources for victims and survivors: