Piss Flaps, Cookie,

Beef Bucket, Pookie

Pootie-tang, Cock Socket,

Poochie, Clown Pocket,

Box, Smush Mitten,

The Mouth, Wet Kitten,

Slip and Slide,

Park and Ride

Fur Burger, Lady Parts,

Naughty Bits, Fart Heart,

Erection Correction,

Yeast’er’ Infection,

Panty Hampster, Cock Sock,

Fun Bags,  Sperm Box,

Vagine, The Nether Lips,

Pickle Taster, Peach Tips,

Cum Crack, Pound Cake,

Front Bum, Tunnel for Snakes,

Beaver, Whispering Eye,

Cunt, Hair Pie,

Velvet Pouch,  Pink Taco,

Clam, Black Hole

I could talk about this all the time-a….

This special word is 

ImageI have one, chances are if you don’t have a penis you also have one. 


Sandy Sweet Dreams

A couple weeks ago I had the worst nightmare in the ENTIRE WORLD! Please let me exaggerate on this one.

In my dream, WAIT! HOLD ON! I got a beef to pick with Mr. Sandman here. Sandman or Sandy (as I call him), is supposed to make you fall into your sweet, sweet Slumber Land, giving you happy dreams of unicorns and Obi-wan Kenobi’s slaying Care Bears with his giant Jedi lightsaber. WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED SANDY! Apparently, he decided to take a night off…meh who can blame the lazy fucker anyways

So with Sandy pushing my needs aside, my subconscious took over. (By the way subconscious-Fuck you, your drunk)

My Dream:

ImageThere is me, with a big belly. Like big enough to knock a mother fucker out. I’m wearing no make up. I’m in a hospital. My boyfriend is there. He tells me I am pregnant. I freak out, because I didn’t even know I was knocked up.Plus I’ve been killing it at the gym and now all those ass-kicking moments of me staring into the mirror while I lift my 2lbs of weights is wasted. Now,I got a big ass belly and an alien is just about to burst through my loins. (fuck you loins, fuck you baby alien).  I’m determined to go natural (fml). Nothing is making sense. Swiftly and without much pain, I release the beast from my gaping vagina. Pick up this kid which squirts blood all over my face. SHIT JUST GOT REAL! Then…..

I wake the fuck up!

No, shitheads, I’m not pregnant and I don’t plan on shitting out kids anytime in the near Imagefuture. But this so-called dream freaked me the fuck out. I wish I was officially afraid of the cock. I don’t need no seed implanting itself into my watering hole. However, I realize this cannot be so, as I need my daily dosage of my man’s cum gun. (Yasmin you’ve been good to me so far, don’t let there be a Mr. 1%).

I know I’m dramatic. But I’m an actor, what do you expect.

Anyways, whenever I have a dream and/or nightmare that sticks out in my mind, I have a tendency to dwell on the nightly visions until I look them up, either that or speak to my psychic Ima FulloShyt. So since it has been a couple weeks since this dream and Ima FulloShyt is out of town, I pulled out the old dream dictionary, (by pulled out, I mean I Googled)


Here are my findings:

If you dream you are pregnant it symbolizes:

You’re growing and developing. (Um no shit Sherlock, I’m on my way to menopausal.)

The birth of a new idea. (Yeah, I got some ideas, but I’m too retro for new ideas.)

If you dream of giving birth it symbolizes:

Fresh beginnings. (No matter how fresh beginnings are, they will never be as fresh as my farts or my vagina.)

Anticipation or anxiety when thinking about birth. (No really? I always thought giving birth would feel like 10 Asian oiling up my body for a shiatsu massage, plus the possibility of finally having a wide set vagina really makes me want to baby make like Easy Bake)

If you see a baby in your dream it symbolizes:

The pure, vulnerable and non-corrupt side of yourself. (Could I really be a virgin?)


ALRIGHT! Enough of this Dreamology crap.  From now on, I’ll be sleeping with a dream catcher under my pillow, blankets between my legs, and I’ll make sure to take a shot of some illegal knockyouthefuckout through a tranquilizer dart to fill my head with happy thoughts before I hit the bed. Either that or masturbate (nothing like a good workout before bed).


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.