Lady-Like

Alright friends, since my last few bloggy blogs have been nothing but sad, sad stories, I have decided to switch things up and be not so depressing. [however: the fact I am blogging at 2 in the morning, chiefing my peace pipe while watching Say Yes To The Dress is in fact incredibly sad news]

MOVING ON!

Tonight/today/this morning… whenever the fuck you decide to read this, I am here to give you all some lovely little lady-like advice. Those of you who know me, know I am quite the woman, but I certainly ain’t no lady. REGARDLESS! I am here, and I am willing and I am ready {Side Note: These are the words I said to the first man I slept with after my ex, and it was wet, wild and worth it!, granted I was on my knees wearing nipple pasties and an edible thong, but you get the idea].

  1. e551991c8f7d806c962b0c8069cb96f2Be straight-forward. Don’t be some pansey lil’ asshole that beats around the bush. You want something, take it, you want to say something, say it! Some fucker keeps hollaring at you and you ain’t interested, kick the clown in the fucking pecker and be done with it. No bullshit ladies! No fucking bullshit! Ain’t nobody got time for that, especially a lady.
  2. Honesty. If I ask you if you masturbate and you say no. You are a goddamn liar and certainly no lady. Be honest with yourself and others. It doesn’t mean we want to listen to your ETrue Hollywood Story (chances are we don’t and no one gives 2 shits about it), it means be HONEST.
  3. Leave a little mystery. You want men to say Who is this girl? I want to know more? Oh the things I would do! etc.etc. Trust me, mystery is key and the longer you keep it going the better. Sure, if you shacking up with some fellow over and over again, the mystery may fade, fuck the mystery could be over the first time you play anal acoustics, but alas leave a lil something something to keep those boys wanted more. (Side story: I totally was vibing this one guy and he was vibing me, and this had been something going on for quite awhile, when we finally did the deed. That was it, he was done with me, no mystery left in his mind. I was left with no respect and a sore vagina)
  4. Be short. Not as in pint-sized, but as in how you verbalize your thoughts. So for example: Him: Where were you last night? Me: Out. Him: Did you have fun? Me: Sure did. Him: Do you care to share? Me: Not really. Now I know this may feel like it’s coming off as a bit dickish, but it’s not, it’s lady-like. Why? Because you aren’t giving away to much and it’s no one’s business anyways. Plus, the moments you do decide to divulge a little more, they’ll either appreciate or not fucking listen.
  5. Never stay the night. NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER!!! Stay the night, don’t do it. That has been probably my number rule in life and in being lady-like. Now, I am definitely a sucker for morning sex, it’s totally my jam. I love waking up getting a nice, lazy shag going on and then bounce. HOWEVER, these moments needs to happen before the early birds make it for 5$ breakfast. Reasons for this: 1) After a night of whatever my make up and hair is no more as mint as it was prior to. Half the time, I resemble a sad panda already regretting past shenanigans. Not ideal, not sexy. not lady-like. 2) If you leave before him waking up he’ll either appreciate your kindness and will want to see more of you, or he will wish you stayed and still wants more of you. win/win.
  6. e14cd95a68c4bbe95d829d6b48715722 (1)Lingerie (spanx included). Always, have some lingerie floating around. I know I do. I have some on hand just in case. Men, love it. Even just having dudes know you have it around is good. Here’s why and I’ll explain this by sharing a little antidote in The Life of Cait. I once had a friend you was fuck buddy. One day he saw lingerie in my car, he inquired about it, and immediately I saw his eyes light up. But every time we  bumped naughty bits, I never wore it. UNTIL …..(drum roll please) ….one day, after countless games of hide the sausage I finally had it on and the look on his face, was fucking worth it. He went wild, that night we banged until the sun came up (may of broke my not spending the night rule). Lingerie ladies. L-I-N-G-E-R-I-E.
  7. Pay your own way. There is nothing worse than a thirsty bitch. No guy needs some cunt soaking up his hard earned $$$$$. Pay your own ladies. It really is that simple. When I go out I always pay my own. Once in a while, when then man I’m with takes a wiz, I’ll pay his too. It shows mutual respect, and whether we are a couple or not, he can always get me back next time. No biggy. Now, sure if I am out on a date, and he wants to pay, I’ll let him, but I always offer. (I GIVE, I GIVE, I GIVE!)
  8. Let a man feel like a man. Now, I am a huge fan of bringing a man down, but when I do, I build him up just so I can bring him back down all over again haha! KIDDING! Nah, I am not that rude. What I mean to say is, let the man you are with (whether your friend, boyfriend, or whatever) feel like what he is. A FUCKING MAN. Let him make the moves and let him lead the way. And if for whatever reason he can’t and he is struggling, guide him, but let never take the lead.
  9. Be free. Don’t let anyone, let alone a man tell you how to live your life. Do it your 26POP-master768way. My way is usually slagging it up at the local pub, but every lady has their own way of expressing their freedom. I choose free love man. FREE FUCKING LOVE!
  10. Own it! And owning shit involves a multitude of things. Whatever shape or size you are. Be proud girl, love yourself completely! You make a mistake, own up to it. Acknowledge your faults, it’s okay. Everybody has fucked up, don’t hide it. Be the first to say sorry if it comes down to it. You bought a dress a size off, wear that shit like no other (but return it the next day) haha.

Alright ladies. These are just a few tips to being a true lady (at least in my world). In the words of Storm Large “What the fuck is lady-like if ladies like to do the fuck they like”just like me!

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Emotional Blue Balls

Okay, ladies and gents I need to vent. I know what you are thinking, “Cait? Vent?” ALWAYS!!!

I don’t know what it is, but it seems to me that there are some serious relationship problems floating through this spring, honestly the birds and the bees are on a hiatus FOR REALZ!.Let me divulge a little, just a little, about my relationship with my honey boo boo child! (31 year old child).

Typically, many women see men as emotionless beings. That’s typically. Unfortunately for me, I was blessed with having no emotions (for the most part), but because of this I feel my man makes up for my lack of emotion. Honestly, I have my rag-time girlfriend visit me once a month and his is 24/7.

Ever since he decided to venture into a new business he’s had more time on his hands. I on the other hand have been incredibly busy working 3 ½ jobs (yes 3 ½). When I do come home he’s upset I don’t spend time with him, and instead I choose to workout, pet my cat, read or write. HOLD THE MOTHER FUCKING PHONE YA’LL! Let’s get some things straight here.

  1. When I do come home, I’m tired. All I want is a little bit of time to settle in, get into my sweatpants, pull a nice cold brewsky from the fridge and mellow the fuck out.
  2. I don’t want to talk about work when I get home. Work is work, work is always work, work is left at work straight up. Sure, ask me about my day, I’ll tell you it was “good,” “bad” “wild” “shitty” whathaveyou. But I am not content, nor up for telling you a play by play about my workday.
  3. I’ll be honest if I come home and there isn’t some sort of supper being cooked up I’m definitely pissy. Sorry but tumblr_lw677pFqFG1qikj2so1_500if I am the sole provider of this god damn relationship, and you are at home picking your nose, yelling at 13 year old kids on the Xbox, you definitely have time cook up some food. If I’m bringing home the bread, all I ask is you bake it.
  4. DON’T BE UPSET THAT I EXPECT YOU TO COOK AND CLEAN! If you ain’t working fucking do something to make this relationship work. I clean constantly when I am home. I’m not asking you to swap the deck like a mother fucking lone pirate, I’m just asking you do the dishes once in awhile, clean the cat’s shitter when it starts to stink, and vacuum. In fact, I can never tell if someone has vacuumed, just tell me you did and I’m kosher baby!
  5. When I am home and at you leisure, I don’t consider watching you on your computer quality time. I would rather be out enjoying life; walking, dancing, playing vids together, fuck and FUCKING! THAT WOULD BE GREAT! That would be ideal. One of the best ways to spend quality time together is to fucking get it in.

Honestly, I am pretty sure my man’s emotions comes from blue balls. Straight up! And he does it to himself. I’m sexual intercourses’ number one fan!! LEGIT! In my ideal world, I would have sex every morning, afternoon delight once a week and finish the day off with a good oral sesh. My man is good once a month. Literally. In fact that last time we had sex beginning of March. The last time we made love with months and months ago. He has so much built up in him, that I swear all his emotions are locked and stocked in his fun stick. Just release baby, release and let go.

Another re-occurring thing that keeps coming up is jealousy. Jealousy gets you nowhere, aside from being a Facebook creeper.  So what, a couple of dudes may think your lady is hot stuff. In case you didn’t notice that is a mother fucking compliment. In my case specifically, I get paid to look pretty, I am aware that my photos will be seen by scholars (haha) and weirdos, but its part of my job. It pays the bills.  I brag about the size of my man’s penis all the time. Any girl would be happy to go for a ride with him, but he’s mine. I’m not scared or threatened he’s going to use his joystick against me (Just happy he’ll use it in me).

Jealousy is a waste of time, effort, and brings out the worst in people. Any relationship with jealousy issues needs to be reflected upon. Like, actually.

I think that all the men in the world are slowly losing their testosterone. Seriously! Ever since Justin Beiber hit the scene, mans vagina has only increased in size!!! (That however is another night, another blog, another story.)

 

Bad Girlfriend, BAD!

I have a confession to make. ..

I recently, have been self-diagnosed with BGS (Bad Girlfriend Syndrome), also known as WTF.G (what the fuck, girlfriend? ) You see, for years and years, I have always known something was wrong with me. For the longest time, I always thought it was because my left breast hangs slightly lower than my right or that when my man comes home I will wag my imaginary tail with excitement. It turns out, not the case.

After a weekend of drugs, alcohol and yoga I have been able to self-reflect on my relationship with my man. Come July 6th, it will be our 5 year anniversary and honestly, I love the man, but I don’t know why the fuck he is still with me.

(IN ORDER TO PROTECT THE IDENTITY OF MY MAN, I WILL CALL HIM PICKLE)

  • Pickle likes to talk, like a lot. He can hold a conversation between him and someone else without that other person saying a word. I feel terrible because I’ve learned to tune him out since the word Hi came out of his precious lil’ lips. The problem with this is now he knows when I’m tuning out. To top that off, he will quiz me later in the day to see if I was listening to a previous conversation we supposedly had. What the fuck is that? Who does that? I was told then that is the girlfriend’s role in the relationship. I should be the quiz master testing Pickle to see if he remembers my birthday, what I said earlier in the day and so on. The problem with that is, I’m too lazy and quite frankly don’t give a damn.
  • I prefer receiving more than giving, at least when it comes to massages. Pickle, is great with his hands, like wonderfully great. I can practically orgasm just after a foot rub. I would say 1-2 times a week he massages me and every time he asks for one in return and well… let’s just say he has a lot of IOU’s to cash in on. Now, out right, I’m a terribly massager, I don’t care for it, and I don’t need to learn how to do it. Yet, Pickle still insists on me learning the way of the masseuse. I say FUCK THAT, if I was meant to be a massager, I would already be stroking cocks (afterall, that is where the big bucks are made.)
  • Although I don’t like giving massages, I do enjoy the art of gift giving. I put a lot of thought and money into my gifts. This sometimes makes Pickle feel inadequate, and ‘not up to par’ when it is his turn to give me a gift. I feel bad because he feels this way, but I can’t help buying him things I know he will love and appreciate. It just so happens he has expensive taste and hey, what my baby wants, my baby gets. After countless times of telling him I don’t need expensive gifts and I’m just happy with MacDonald’s coupons and an oral surprise, he still persists for me not to buy him such lavish things. Instead of shopping for him at Value Village I’ve instead given up comforting him over the topic.
  • I haven’t been able to figure out if he has more ovaries than I do, or my penis is bigger than his. Either I have more testosterone than he does or he has more estrogen than I do. It seems the stereotypical role of boyfriend and girlfriend is reversed with us. I can see it bothers Pickle tremendously and instead of easing off the ‘roids I bust his balls about it. I think it’s hilarious, yet Pickle is deeply unimpressed with my enthusiasm of joking about the situation. I can’t help myself. If I was a good girlfriend I would act more lady like, the problem is I need Pickle to teach me how to be so.
  • Pickle dislocates his shoulder quite often. It’s something that happens spontaneously from him doing simple tasks; washing dishes, folding laundry, mopping the floors. When I am present and this happens I am well aware he is in a great deal of pain and it kills me to see him in such pain. However, in the exact moment this happens and his vocal chords hit falsetto and beyond I cannot hold back a short shot of laughter. I don’t mean too, it’s like a fart, sometimes I don’t even know it’s coming but it does and it stinks.
  • I naturally prefer men over women, any day. I was raised in a family filled with women and I think I served my time and deserve to be with sausage from now on. To add to my preference towards men, I’m more friendlier and flirtier with them blokes, harmless I assure you, but to Pickle or anybody else it may not look so.  You see, if I really was a good girlfriend I would cling to Pickle’s arm, smile and look pretty. But I want his friends to know I’m a real person, just so happens I’m a flirty person.
  • I’m also inconsiderate. Inconsiderate in that I would leave him a post it note if I went away for the weekend instead of telling him. Hell, if I got preggerz I probably wouldn’t tell him until 8 months in or I would tell him in a non-nonchalant way.Image
  • He’s way too good for me. He’s sweet and handsome. We ain’t no Brangelina, he’s more Obi-wan Kenobi and I’m more Ethel Merman. Our looks are on a different scale. I love it when girls are checking my man out, it makes me feel good, but it means I have to work harder at the gym just so I can measure up to this man.
  • He’s a bit of a drama queen, but I am the button pusher. I know what sets him off and instead of being wise and kind and avoiding those triggers I take a shot at him from time to time. I simply, should not do this.
  • I’m terrible at advice, well actually I think I am great at giving advice just everyone else thinks it’s terrible advice. So when Pickles asks for my advice it almost always ends in a fight. And the thing is I’m trying here, like really trying to help him out. I’m fed up because when I tell him I don’t have advice for him he gets upset and thinks I don’t care, and then when I give the man advice he says he never should have asked me. WTF!
  • I’m at a constant crossroads between my career and him. Ever since I have been pushing my acting and modeling career forward it seems as though he’s trying to hold me back. He doesn’t do this purposely, but it really makes me question whether I want a man for the rest of my life or the career I’ve been working hard for. Ideally, both, but for me to get the ball rolling I choose career. (This bothers me).
  • For all of Pickle’s life he has always been the butt of the joke. Some people just exude this aura and he’s one of them. Everybody cracks wise about him from; his family, my family, his friends, coworkers, his best friend and myself. Again, I say I can’t help myself, but I know that is no excuse. What’s worse is he has expressed how upsetting and hurtful it is for him to have to man up and take the shit that is flying at him and instead of me digging him out or sitting in the shit with him I fling my poop too.
  • I always make him my Robin to my Batman. That’s just bad juju right there.

Folks! What can I say, I am not girlfriend material.  I definitely have BGS/WTF.G syndrome. This man, is amazing and he tolerates so much shit from m. He deserves an honorary medal, preferably in the form of a blow job. Regardless of how bad of a girlfriend I feel to him sometime, I’m glad he hasn’t left me, I’m glad he’s mine and BITCHES HANDS OFF! If you are going to touch my Pickle, Ima gonna dumbfuck you up!

Advice Hardly Given

Today you will be able to feast your eyeballs on my words of wisdom. Countless people and cyber freaks have been asking yours truly for advice about useless shit, that I quite frankly don’t give a damn about. Regardless, I have the answers for you all. Yes, I’m just, that, good. (Dr. Phil, back the fuck up).

Dear Cait, I am still a virgin. What do I do? HELP!

Dear Virgin, Have sex.

Dear Cait, How do I tell my flatmate I’ve had sex everywhere in our apartment? This is including, their room.

Dear Horndog,You have two options here: You can man up and apologize. Or don’t tell them. Keep in mind, jiz stains don’t stay hidden forever.Image


Dear Cait ‘Mistress of the Universe’, How do I tell a woman I don’t like her and to leave me alone forever.

Dear Mama’s Boy, Remember, mother’s are in our lives forever. They brought us into this world and just as well can take us back out. If you however are not referring to your mother, than I have multiple answers for you. 

  • Slap the bitch
  • Ignore her, in fact go to the extent of introducing yourself to her every time you see her
  • Tell her she is cute, but not in a good way.
  • Tell her your entering the brotherhood.
  • Let her know,she can no longer borrow your travelling pants.

If you would like to do this without insulting the bitch, you are out of luck. I don’t do nice.

Dear Cait, I hate my job. I’m going to quit, but not sure how.

Dear Sad Fucker, Pull down your pants and tell your boss to suck it.

Dear Cait, I think I might be gay. How do I know if I am or not?

Dear Pansy, take a trip to Bumfuck Mountain. 

Dear Cait, how can a man wear a dress and still be socially accepted.

Dear Queen, a man can wear a dress and be socially accepted if her has a vagina.

Dear Cait, how drunk is too drunk to fuck?

Dear Drunk, if it talks and walks you are good to go.

Dear Cait, I met this girl who is ‘average’ looking. People make fun of her, but I like her. Should I be with her.

Dear Lovebird, two things: Is she funny? And does she give good head? If the answers are no, fly away.

Dear Cait, At what age do woman finally give in and take it in the bum?

Dear Bum Diddler. the age at which you drug her.

Dear Cait, I am 5 months pregnant, who should I turn to for baby advice?

Dear Preggerz, NOT ME!

Dear Cait, I am my friend is getting married. I have been with my boyfriend for 1 year, how do I get him to purpose.

Dear Hopelessly Devoted, GET PREGNANT! Kidding, kidding…

Dear Cait, my boyfriends birthday is coming up and I don’t know what to get him.

Dear NotAGoodGirlfriend, The fact that you don’t know what to get him probably means you should get him either another girlfriend or a lap dance.

Dear Cait, I’m out of a job and need to make money quick. What can you recommend that does not require me to work the corner?

 Dear Un-working Girl, ever heard of Polenastics?

Dear Cait, my dad wants me to go to a local college, but I want to go to one four hours away. What do I do?

Dear GoingNowhere, tell your father in the most ‘Varsity Blues’esque voice, ‘I don’t want your life’ (James Van Der Beek accent is a must to make it work).

That is it for now my friends! My wisdom has been shared. This advice is so wise that it is simply advice hardly given. Life coach Cait, is on the horizon. Think about it freaks, I could be yours for the low cost of hi-fives and credit card numbers!

Mid-life WTF!

So for the last few months, since I’ve been back from visiting my crazy ass family I have been in a Idon’tknowwhattodowithmylifeIthinkI’llgoeatworms kind of feeling. This is feeling is uncool in my book and I’m dying to rip these pages out, the only problem with that though is I have to figure out why I am feeling this way. And that my friends is a problem because I have no fucking clue why when I wake up every morning I feel like drop kicking my stuffies off my balcony and eating Lego men. Also, around noon I want to chew my hair while my cat licks her balls and before I go to bed I get cravings of quail, prune juice and Mad Men.

NO I’M NOT PREGNANT! But someone please tell me what the fuck is wrong with me. No doctors are needed for this diagnosis.

Now, let me tell you there are a few things I suspect.

BC: Every other year or so I run out of my birth control and go off it for a couple months. I started this because I would forget my prescription ended and would procrastinate the visit to the doctors because I would be sitting on my ass for two hours only for a prescription that neither I nor the pharmacist can read anyways. So in January I ran out, OOPSIES! Decided to not laze about this time and got my shit together in February.

I did notice when I was off birth control my period punched the shit out of my ovaries. My river was flowing for days and days. Usually with the help of my best friend Yasmin the river lightly flowed for two days and my ovaries were alive after the ordeal.

Being on and the off birth control in a short amount of time made me think that it could perhaps be why I am feeling so melancholy. I’ve been moody as fuck since I’ve been back to Vancouver. I’m telling you, so far this PMS has lasted 3 months and that is coming for a gal who never goes through moody PMS.

Menopause: Thought crossed my mind and left. I’m too young for menopause ain’t nobody Imagegot time for that!

Body: I work out and hard for the body I got. Five days a week I’m in the gym or at the pool and I love it. My body is in better condition than it was when I was a dancer. I’m eating healthier, I look better, the only thing that slaps my gut around is the alcohol. I’ve cut down a lot with only a few blowouts every few months, but after nights of hard partying from downing brewskies, not only am I hung over as fuck but I’m still cut. This I know, is something that needs to change and I will get there, after I finish this delicious Pina Colada.

Work: I recently realized how much I hate working. I love having money, but working is just a mother fucking bummer. My current place of work is filled with negative energy daily and it’s sucking the life out of my every being. At least every other day I work, my balls are metaphorically being sacked by a gypsy and her brood of tater-tots. I love them, don’t get me wrong, but I feel my patience is wearing thin. It is at the point where I’d almost rather be the person who cleans shitters for a living and gives retirees sponges baths than monitor monkeys while they fling their shit at me.

I do feel positive energy, but I get that from from my other sources of employment. They excite me, energize me and motivate me. 

Confused? I’ll fucking say.

Relationship: I have been with my man for a long time, (July 6th will be 5 years), sometimes I question if it’s too long, sometimes I question if it’s not long enough and I wish I could fast forward life ten years from now. He’s 5 years older than I, which we established is a good thing. He doesn’t want marriage, which is fine, I can do without it. (I can’t justify spending endless amounts of money on one day of celebration, so this idea of not getting married keeps my wallet thick and a thick wallet makes me happy.)

However having kids one day would be amazing.I love being the crazy auntie from out west that spoils her nieces and nephews, so having a herd of my own would be killer! Not now, not within five years, but after my 31st birthday I’d love to start spouting out kidlets. Right now, my man is not wanting his own little juniors running around, which is fine, but I worry he may always feel this way. There is a part of me that is thinking fingers crossed and maybe he’ll change (which is stupid), there is a part of me that is saying I won’t ever have kids and should just accept it now, and there is a part of me that’s saying I’m thinking too much about the whole thing and there is a part saying when the time comes deal with it then.

Mid-Life: Is this a pre-mid-life crisis? I’m only twenty-five still young and alive, and yet shit just keeps getting flung my way. I know it’s good to sit in the shit a bit, but i’ve been sitting in it for far to long.

So my friends, I ask you what is wrong with me. While you ponder this question and while I too ponder, I think I’ll go to church and rewrite psalms.