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Archive for the ‘My tits should have their own TV show’ Category

Thank you all so much for your kind words and emails.  I haven’t really been in the mood to write back, but I wanted to let every one of you that wrote that I appreciate your words more than anything.

My aunt is hanging in.  She is peeing on her own again, so that’s pretty good news.  She has two tumors that are pressing against her kidneys, which is causing the severe pain and other problems.  She received radiation the other day in hopes that it will shrink the kidneys enough to bring her pain from 10 to 6.  I spoke with her the other night and you can hear the pain in her voice.  She sounds out of breath.  She knows she’s dying.  My heart broke when she told me that she didn’t thing she’d be at this point so soon.  She thought she had more time.  Fuck, what do you say to that?

There were two deaths in my family this week.  Well, not really my family but people close to my family so I call them family.  I found about the second death last night, which caused me to have another sleepless night.  I took a vacation day today in order to rest.  I feel like my brain was mush.  I tried to get myself moving this morning, but my body was like…no, go back to sleep.  I took 2 Tylenol PM’s at 5 AM, called in to work, and passed out until about 10.  I can’t remember the last time I was in bed at 10 in the morning.  I felt like I slept the day away.  Now, I’m just relaxing.  It’s a beautiful day and I’m on my porch with my kitties writing while listening to Pandora.

In other news, I think I’m going to give up Mr. Wood.  Maybe.  I don’t know.  I’ll still admire him from afar, but I don’t think he’s interested.  Yesterday was the first time I saw him since I said “bless you” and nothing.  I didn’t see him until I got to my stop and he was ahead of me.  He parks near me.  I walked by his car, a white cadillac, and it was a perfect opportunity to say hi since nobody was around, but when I looked over at him he turned his head.  He also lives close to me, because I pulled out of the parking lot behind him and he went the same way I go for most of the trip home.  I’m thinking he’s probably married or he has a girlfriend or doesn’t think I’m attractive or something like that.

And when I think about a man driving a white caddy, I think…pimp.  I’d still go out with him if he asked me though.  There’s something about him.

I’m getting more into running than ever.  It’s weird, but I feel by body coming back to me.  The athlete I once was.  Once upon a time, my body was a fucking machine.  I ran 6 days a week and lifted weights and did yoga.  It’s been many years since I’ve been able to run the way I’m doing it now.  I feel good.  I’m doing a whole bunch of races this summer, hopefully working up to full marathons.  My goal is to eventually qualify for the Boston marathon in the next couple years.  I know I can do it.  I just have to train hard and keep myself focused on that goal.

Oh, and someone asked me if my boobs shrunk with all of this weight loss and exercising.  The answer is no.  I’m still a DD.  The only thing that’s shrunk is the bra band.  I’ve been a DD since I was in high school and I reckon I’ll still be a DD when I’m 100 years old.

I’m off to chill out.  I have a new favorite chick flick movie, The Jane Austen Book Club.  I love it.  I’m going to watch it again.

Have a great weekend.

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I got an amazing pedicure tonight. So good that you could have put me in front of a bus and whatever. I wouldn’t move.

And I shaved my legs for the first time in three weeks, so my legs are nice and soft.

If any guys cringed at my saying that I hadn’t shaved my legs in three weeks, piss off. Take a look at your own legs and, better yet, take a look at your nether regions. Yup.

Right now, my boobs are sore. It sucks.

I bought a faux fur throw blanket tonight. It is the softest fucking blanket I have ever owned in my life. I keep petting it. And it was 50% off too.

Tomorrow, I’m talking about sex. Stay tuned.

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I went to my niece’s play last night. She’s 7 years old. She loves being in these shows, so I was excited to see her do her thing. She was in the opening number and it was adorable. So, a few more songs were sung and they were going to the next scene when I smelled something burning.

I turned to my stepdad and asked him if he smelled it. He said yeah. So, we figured someone was smoking outside and threw a cigarette in a trashcan. But, the smell was getting more intense and was coming from the stage. My stepbrother, a cop, got up to check things out and we heard doors opening and rustling. Then we heard a kid start coughing really bad.

The fire alarm went off and we proceeded out the exits. It’s amazing to see how people will run out of the place in front of the handicapped and old. I helped a woman in a walker. There were others helping out. They opened the curtain and the amount of smoke that was behind there was unbelievable. I got out of the building and found everyone. Of course, the play was canceled. Morgan was a little upset. She saw the fire and was a little nervous.

Nobody was really hurt, the coughing was from the fire extinguisher. It was kind of a bummer. I really wanted to see the little miss do her thang.

Now, it’s time for some absolutely classic Debbie retardedness. Sit down and enjoy. Maybe you should get a beer or a cup of tea.

  1. I was dropping something off at a friend’s house the other day and she had one of her friends there. I’m not really crazy about this woman, but she’s not my friend so who cares. I was asked to stay for a drink, and I did. My friend’s friend was clearly upset about something. She looked like she was crying. I asked if I was interrupting anything and they say no. My friend’s friend took a deep breath and said that she had an accident on Saturday. I thought she had a car accident or something, so I started to give some kind words when she blurted out, “I peed my pants in front of my boyfriend.” Now, I’m someone who knows something about peeing pants. I’ve even pooped my pants. Like, last year. So, I told her that. She started laughing really hard and suddenly we were fast friends. Groovy, I know.
  2. Monday morning my boobs were hurting me. I was PMS’ing and they were so fucking sore. I decided to rub them to ease up the pain a bit. Oh, did I tell you I was at work? No, well I was. It’s was about 7:05 AM and nobody were there yet. Or so I thought. I’m in mid-rub ecstasy when one of my cubicle neighbors turns the corner. He looked at me quickly and then looked away. He’s a family man, kind of square, so I’m pretty sure he was thinking, “Look at this nut feeling herself up.”
  3. Today, I was wearing a very pretty blue dress. I remembered perfume and everything. So, I was drinking my coffee and I tipped back to drink the last bits and I spilled it down the front of me. I think I have a hole in my chin because I do this often. Anyhow, I smelled like perfumed coffee all day. Fucking gross.
  4. I went to a Quizzo happy hour my company held on Tuesday. It was sort of fun. The thing I hate about these happy hours is that the whole company is invited to these things, but one department seems to be so fucking impressed with themselves that they make the thing about them. My department always seems like the red-headed stepchild of the company, yet we’re the money makers. Anyhow, I can’t stand people at my company. Fucking bitches. Even the men.
  5. I went for a run the other night. As I really got into it and am at a great pace, I felt a booger. I ignored it, or tried to, and kept going. But, it was getting really annoying and I couldn’t concentrate on anything but the booger. After a few more minutes of the booger tickling my nose, I did something I haven’t done since I was a child….I picked my nose. Not only do I pick the booger out, but I flicked the booger off my finger. I was outside, so it’s okay. I can’t believe I picked my nose. Ew.
  6. I went into the ladies room at work and there was a big turd in the stall I walked into. For some reason, I’m like the all-time jackpot winner when it comes to picking the stall that someone left shit in or just shit the smelliest poo ever in. It’s a gift, I know you’re jealous. This poo was different than any I’d ever seen. It was orange. But not like a brownish orange, but this orange. Yeah, I know. Who has orange shit? I sometimes have a red shit, because I eat a lot of beets, but it’s never orange. I suppose I have a new mystery to solve. It’s always about poo.
  7. My neighbor is moving my trash can’s again. It’s so fucking annoying. And I think that Inbred Nephew is in jail. I haven’t seen him in months and he’s usually here all summer. It’s the only thing I can think of. I know, as of May, he had lost his license because of several DUIs. So classy, I know.
  8. My sister’s husband fucked their brand new computer. He downloaded some porn and got a serious virus, but he’s so computer illiterate that instead of running Norton’s he just ignored it and turned the computer off. Nice, huh?
  9. The other night, I sat on my porch and practiced my Woody Woodpecker laugh and now I’m a pro. Don’t ask me why I was doing this. I get bored and this kind of brilliance comes to me. I like to do the laugh in my kitchen cause it kind of echos. I know I’m cooler than you, deal with it.
  10. I’ve been thinking and have come to the conclusion that I would let Ed Norton fuck me in the ass on the first date. He wouldn’t even have to buy me dinner. A drink would suffice. I’m a dirty whore, who the fuck cares you judgmental bastards. You know you’d do it too.

And that’s all folks.

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My tits are on my nerves lately. We have a love/hate relationship. Tonight, I attempted to run without two sports bras binding my boobs to the point of pain. What happened was my having to stop running because my boobs were hurting so bad that I could feel the pain in my armpits. I can’t fucking win, can I? As I walked home I thought about my breasts and what I love or hate about them and here’s what I came up with.

Hate:

  1. I hate that shirts don’t fit me right. EVER. I always have to buy bigger shirts and have them taken in because although they fit perfectly across my chest, the shoulders and waist of the shirt is floating on me. Fucking frustrating.
  2. I hate that I have to pay more money for my bras. I can’t get a decent bra for less than $40. I also have to search high and low for a pretty bra in my size. Yes, there are plenty of granny bras out there, but who wants to wear those. My tits are awesome and I want a beautiful bra to display them.
  3. I hate that I sometimes look vulgar in low-cut shirts because my cleavage starts at my fucking neck and it looks like I’m a cartoon.
  4. I hate that some shirts that I wear make me look heavy and boxy because my breasts stick out so far that shirts (like T-shirts) just fall straight down instead of hugging my waist and hips.
  5. Which means I have to wear tighter shirts, which puts all attention to my tits.
  6. I hate that some people stare at my tits when they talk to me. I like when people talk to me and look at my face. It’s respectful to look at someone’s face while speaking to them.
  7. Cleavage and under boob sweat. The worst.

Love:

  1. I love that my tits get me free drinks regularly.
  2. I love the way my breasts feel. They are real and are soft and heavy, but firm. For some reason, I find it very comforting to rest my hands on my chest while going to sleep. My breasts are cuddly.
  3. I love that I can orgasm from just having my nipple’s stimulated. Yeah, I’m a fucking sex goddess.
  4. I love that when I do wear something tight that my breasts make my stomach look flatter than it is. At least that’s what I think.
  5. I love the fact that my breasts are perfect for titty fucking. Yeah, I said it. Fuck off if you don’t like it. But, titty fucking is hot and there is something extremely erotic about watching my man’s cock sliding between my tits. Oh yes, I did just go there. Deal with it.
  6. I love my cleavage. Even when I compain about it, I love it. It’s perfect.
  7. That they’re mine.

I love my body but I felt the need to vent a little about these dirty dirty pillows I have. They are still hurting from the running. Back to two sports bras tomorrow.

Now, I wanted to thank Katrice for mentioning me in the Thinking Blogger Awards. I’m not much on being tagged or meme’s or whatever. But, I thought this one was nice. I’m not going to give a huge description of each blog since I’ve stroked the shit out of all of you. I’m going to name 5 blogs that make me think. Groovy huh?

Go check them out and love them.

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How has everyone been? I’m sleepy today. I am fantasizing about going to sleep. I want nothing more than to put my jammies on and curl up on the couch when I get home. But I can’t.

Why, you ask?

I have a date tonight. Yup. Another setup. Now, before you go lecturing me about how I should have learned my lesson by now about these bullshit setups let me explain something. I’m doing this as a favor for a friend of the family. I was begged to do it. Apparently, I’d be perfect for So’n’so’s son. The date is at 7, so no naps for me. I’m wearing pants and I’m not shaving my pits or my legs. That’s how much I care about this date.

What else has been going on?

Fuck if I know. It’s been boring around here.

I took my nipple ring out the other night. It got caught in the lace of my bra a few weeks ago and never recovered. I was tired of having a sore nipple for no reason. This is the same reason why I took the other one out last year. Oh well, they were fun for while.

I gave blood yesterday. Here are some pictures of my arm because I know you want to see my wound.


My arm right after, covered in iodine.


My arm right now. The little red dot is where they stuck me. Do you like the bruising? My arm is killing me today. I’ve never had pain after giving blood before. It sucks.

They now take the blood in a Red Cross bus. It was strange. I filled the bag of blood in 5 minutes. I shit you not. The nurse was also impressed by the amount of iron in my blood. The drop sank down to the bottom like a weight. She asked me what I eat because whatever I’m doing I need to keep up. I told her I eat lots of greens. She laughed.

Speaking of greens, it bothers me that people say they don’t eat any vegetables. I don’t understand this. I had dinner with a few friends last night and they declared that they don’t do veggies. Do they understand how bad that is. I eat shitloads of veggies everyday. And I may not be the skinniest person in the world, but I’m super healthy. My bloodwork and blood pressure are always perfect. I poop twice a day with no issues. I have great skin and hair. My nails grow like weeds and are strong. I might get 2 pimples a year and they are never more than little tiny bumps. Those few people I know who don’t eat veggies are a freakin mess. They have poop issues. And bad skin. They have brittle hair. I call them “skinny fat”. They might be really skinny, but they are unhealthy. Our bodies need the vitamins and minerals that veggies provide.

I know I know, I just told you all way too much about my poop. Sorry.

I think I might be obsessed with poop. Not in a sexual way (for all of the freaks and assholes who are reading this or searching for people obsessed with poop), but I really think that you can tell a lot about a person from the regularity of their bowel movements. I’m the shit psychic.

Okay, enough of that. I’m being silly.

My sister is having the baby, maybe, on Tuesday. It’s almost a sure thing, they just have to do one more test. I’ll have another little stinky. They’re naming him Colin. I like that name. I will definitely have pictures.

And now, please excuse me for a moment. I have something I need to say to a certain group of people out there. This letter will come across as cocky, conceited, and arrogant but I don’t care. I’m reached my limit. I need to get this out and vent.

***
Dear Weirdo male lurkers,

You never comment on here. You don’t even have a blog. Yet, you feel you need to email me with annoying pictures of your cocks or email me to tell me how much you hate me or, the latest and most annoying, you email me to let me know that you live in DC or Philly or NYC and that we should fuck. Some of you offer to end my dry spell like you’re doing me some huge favor. Seriously? I don’t know you. Why would you think I’d fuck some guy I didn’t know? You gonna pay me? Then don’t flatter yourselves.

Really. If I wanted to end my dry spell, I could anytime I wanted. Trust me on this. Not only that, I’m also too good for you. You aren’t worthy of my fucking gifted, no….prodigal way of fucking. I would make you cry for your mother, for your god even. Don’t doubt that. Okay? I would ruin masturbation for you, I’m that good. If there is anything in this world that I’m 100% sure of, it’s that I am brilliant when it comes to sex. So, why would I grant this gift to you? Even if these emails are a joke (even though I don’t think this is so), it’s wasting my time. Leave me alone.

I’m tired of being harassed and insulted. I’m tired of the strange, somewhat scary, emails. It’s not my problem that your life is filled with mediocrity, so stop emailing me desparate pleas for my company and affection. You’re pissing me off. I don’t think it’s fair that I should feel I have to look over my shoulder everywhere I go because of something you wrote to me.

The kid gloves are off. If you email me again with this bullshit, I will publish the email address and let them at you. I’m done with this.

Best wishes and get some therapy,
Debbie
***
And now we’re going to stroke.

To Do: 1. Get Hobby 2. Floss: I wish I could be this funny. Really, I do. She’s hilarious. And a great writer. This is one example of how fucking funny she is.

Too Disgusting to Contemplate, Too Compelling to Ignore: His life should be a sitcom. He makes me laugh, deep from the belly. The posts about his mother have me peeing myself. Hilarious. Go over. I don’t have one post to point out because it’s all good.

Wait….I’ll Think of Something: This is Katrice. She’s smart, funny, relevant, and charming. Her posts are a nice mix of current events, life stories, and random thoughts. I like her. She’s good people. I love her blog. Go over and read.

Water Water Everywhere: An American in Ireland. Pog is very literary. She’s smart. She’s a good writer. She doesn’t kiss anyone’s ass. She’s got her funny moments. She’s worth a look.

Weekends Off: I can always count on this blog to give me something good to read. Between the people at her job and the evil ex-husband’s wife and the crazy antics, I crack up. Often. Go check her out and be hypnotized by her flashing butt.

Stay tuned for the final stroke next week.

Have a great weekend and please wish me luck on this date. I’m gonna need it.

UPDATE: I’m home from the date. Woo hoo! It went pretty well. He didn’t do anything nuts or say inappropriate things. He was good looking, but not overly so. We only had dinner and drinks because I’m exhausted. Throughout the date, my mother kept calling me because my sister started bleeding again and we were afraid they would perform the C-section tonight. They’re just going to monitor her for now. My date was very patient and considerate about all of this. I felt horribly rude talking on the phone with him there. The night ended in the parking lot of the restuarant with a kiss. He asked me if he could which was very polite. The kiss ruined the whole date though. It was bad. Not one redeeming thing about it. The man is 35, so he should know how to kiss. Am I wrong that the lack of kissing skills bothers me? It turned me off completely. At least the date wasn’t a complete nightmare and this gives me hope.

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Last night I got shitfaced. I didn’t plan on going out or drinking. I wanted to curl up on my couch in my jammies with some tea and forget about how unlucky in love I am.

And then my cellphone rings.

It’s my mom’s friend. My mom was at a party, a 60th birthday party for a good friend. I knew about it. The birthday guy’s son’s band was playing, a really good band that has won many coverband contests. There was going to be loads of food. There was going to be loads of alcohol.

Anyhow, it’s my mom’s friend Lynn on the phone. She’s from Scotland and has, what she likes to call, a fiery Scottish temper. Her brogue is quite thick when she gets excited or emotional.

Lynn in a thick brogue: “Where the fuck are you girlie?”
Me: “I’m home.”
Lynn: “Get your ass over here right now.”
Me: “I’m in my pajamas.”
Lynn: “I don’t want to hear that shit. Get dressed and get over here. You’ll have plenty of time when you’re 80 to be in your pajamas.”
Me: “Um…”
Lynn: “If you’re not here in 30 minutes, I’m coming over to get you.”

**Click**

I sat there for a few minutes and got up to get dressed. I knew there was no use in fighting. Lynn would come over and get me.

I heard the band playing before I got into the neighborhood. When I pulled up to the house, I noticed that there were kids sitting in the middle of the driveway eating and gabbing on their cells.

I parked around the corner. I walked up to the house and saw my mom and Lynn coming out the door. To get me. As soon as they saw me, they rush me into the party. My mom takes me to the bar to get a drink. As we’re waiting for my drink to be made, this guy comes up to me and asks me if I needed a drink.

Before I go on, let me explain something. I’m not attracted to men who are shorter than me. I know this isn’t nice, but it’s how I feel.

This guy asking me if I needed a drink was about 3 inches shorter than me and to be totally honest, I wasn’t in any mood to meet anyone. I told him I was waiting for a drink and then went back to talking to my mother.

I got my drink and we walked out into the yard where there was a dancefloor in front of the band. My mom was dancing with her friends and I stood there and focused on getting my drink into my belly as quickly as I could. I went for a second drink and stayed in the bar area for a while. This strange woman who my mother sometimes hangs out with came up to me and started asking me a gazillion questions about why I didn’t come right up and talk to her. She has the crazy eyes, you know that wide-eyed wild look, and seems kind of drunk. I told her that I wasn’t in the mood for her shit and guzzled my drink. After getting my third drink, my mother tells me I need to eat dinner and ushers me into the garage that is filled with all kinds of food. I get a sandwich and inhale it, I didn’t realize how hungry I was.

After eating, I went up to the bar to get another drink and there isn’t anyone manning the bar. So, I go behind the bar and start making my own drink and the next thing I know I’m the bartender. As I’m making drinks for everyone, the short guy who asked me if I needed a drink in the beginning of the saga tells me that I’m the prettiest girl he’s seen in a long time. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, at least I think I did, and thanked him. He continued to lurk around the bar for about half an hour before coming up to me again and asks me if he can ask me a stupid question. I say okay and he asks me if I’m seeing anyone. Now, since I decided to start my long term relationship with myself yesterday afternoon I didn’t have to feel bad telling this guy that yes I was indeed seeing someone. My mother choked on her drink when I said that because she knew about my new dating situation.

The night goes on and the following things take place:

  1. My mom’s friend Matt, the birthday boy, puts $2 bucks in my cleavage for making him a drink.
  2. An old man tells me that I’m the cutest thing he’s seen all night and asks me if I’ll give him a kiss on his cheek. I obliged.
  3. I make a drink for some asswipe who then tells me that in order for me to receive a tip, I must show him my nipples. He said this right in front of my mother, which was a huge mistake because she lost her mind on him. I believe he is shitting out of two assholes today because of it.
  4. A different man told me that he’s suck on my nipple if I let him. I ignored him, but kept asking me to come over to him. This time it was me that tore someone a new asshole.
  5. Another guy asks me if he could have my phone number. I politely told him that I was seeing someone, but thanks for the interest. I found out later that he was married (no, he didn’t have a ring on) and that his wife was at the party.
  6. The short guy lurked and hung around the bar the whole time I was there. After a while, I started getting a little freaked out because I was pretty drunk and didn’t think I could handle this guy if he got weird and followed me to my car or something like that.

My mom ended up driving me home in my car last night. I was too hammered. I got home and devoured a slice of cold pizza. I did manage to wash my face and brush my teeth before I passed out.

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I’m on glass 2. I haven’t had much to eat today (shitty lunch and I couldn’t decide what I wanted for dinner–um, I wanted Indian but there are no restuarants in my area) and I’m starting to feel nice and relaxed and friendly. I don’t think I’ll be changing into any ruffled panties tonight, sorry. But, I felt that since I talk about my tits all of the time I should give you all an idea of what the hell is going on. No, they are not my bare breasts. These pictures will give you an idea of why I’m harrassed all of the time. And before any of you ask, they are real and I’ve been a DD since I was 17 years old.



Do you see now? They are ridiculous, but a lot of fun (giggling behind my hand).

And here are two other pictures of me because I’m bored and why not.


My face looks chubby here, but fuck it. I really think I look goofy in every picture I’m in.


This picture isn’t that bad. My smile is so crooked sometimes.

And here’s my girl Stella. She’s playing with my toe separater.

UPDATE: Stop starng at my tits. I just saw my odl lady nnieghbor and her man friend makding out on the porch. Ugh. Shojld I open another bottle of wine? I’m watchign My cousin Vinny and I forgot how funn ythis movie is. Wine makes me horny. For real for real.

UPDATE: I’m totally sober man. Phew! I can’t believe how sober I am. It’s awesome.

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