HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!





Hope you all have a great holiday! Eat tons, relax a bunch, have plenty to drink and be thankful for all that you have!

Bring on the Bjork!

Now, some of you know that Bjork's Vespertine is one of my favorite albums of all time. Once it starts to get cold and the leaves start turning, I get the urge to put that mutha on repeat!!
To celebrate the brisk weather, here's "Unison" off my favorite cold-weather album from my favorite nuttty Icelander. Enjoy.


Bring on the bible-beaters!

"Yeah, Christ rocked. It's the christians that are typically a little fucked up."

Yeah that was me, in response to @xjaeva when she told me that Jesus loved whores. This was after I asked her if they still burn whores at church. (it's been a while since I've visited.)
Sometimes I think that I *really* need to step away from the Twitter. Then I remember that I have so many more obscene things to say.

You betcho sweet tuckus it is.

From Souliberation Via Such A Female.

sooooo

YEeeeaaahhhh, sorry bout that last lil rant. I do feel better though, if that counts??

hahahaha

love ya'll.

:)

Warning: This post contains insecurities and shit-talking myself.

Disclaimer: This is not how I always feel. This is just a temporary lapse in awesomeness, ok? But it's my blog and I'll do whadawant. :)
*oh, and I'm not fishing for compliments with this post either.


So last night I was thinking a lot about how much I hate working out.

Like really hate it. Like hate it so much that while walking the dogs last night, I was just getting more and more angry at the fact that even after I walked them I was going to have to do an hour of yoga and still not really have made a dent in this "fitness" that I'm supposed to be working on. (thanks, Fergie *side-eye*) I started to feel seriously resentful that I needed to lose weight, NEEDED to get tighter to look better in photos, to get more clients in this "sex business" I work in. Those shitty thoughts that my curves were not really good enough and that I'd never really be as successful as the skinny girls, the girls with perky tits and tiny waists, started creeping in.

I get home and I'm shooting Mr. Darling daggers, because of course it's his fault. How dare he love me the way that I am and let me get like this?? It's his fault that I feel gross and defeated. His fault that he encourages me to love my curves and to love my body like I do. He of course, laughs at me, tells me I need a hug and gives me one. A big, squeeze-the-stuffing-outta-you hug. Of course I feel better and kinda snap outta my funk.

Ok, So yeah, I admit it. I love my body. So why do I get so frustrated with industry standards? Why do I occasional let mainstream ideals and pressures get to me, manipulating my attitiude and outlook? 99% of the time I'm happy as a clam and completely immune to this garbage but the remaining 1%? This post is the remaining 1% consisting of pointless, crappy weakness. *sigh* LOL

ummm...


what the hell???


I really
really
really....

like it.

I think the part that bothers me most is that old boy (satan??) is merely grimacing while the horns of that rocket bull are buried deep into his now-concave asscheeks. Not a scream of horror or even indignation, just an annoyed "meh" look to him. And his lone discarded shoe??? I can't with you people today. Who comes up with this shit?? Get his number because he needs to be my future ex-husband like, pronto.

Just a side note...

I just spent the better part of my afternoon reading Not in the Face, the blog of Caligula Sanchez in between office fuckery. Do you know what it's like to have to hold your breath or pretend you're coughing to cover up the sqealing, hyena-like cackling you know you want to let out while your boss is in the next cube?? TORTUROUS, but totally worth it.

I truly feel that he is my long lost soul mate, (albeit more fabulous and fashionable - I need that switchblade disguised as a lipstick!) because:

A.) he's multi-cultural like moi (and nobody knows the horrors of that childhood like another of your kind.)

B.) I also have PTUCS or Post Traumatic Ugly Child Syndrome (see item A.)

C.) SEX WORK. 'nuff said.

D.) His blog is named NOT IN THE FACE. Hello?? How many times have I had to proclaim such guidelines? Don't answer that. I'll only say its between 1 and 224455978231 times.


So yeah, go on and get familiar and cozy with Caligula, Destroyer of Worlds.
You might get fired but you'll laugh your ass off. Even trade, right?

And a few more...










Soooo whatdya think??? I had a ton of fon and I hope it shows! :)

wooooo!!!!

So, I got the images from the NYC shoot at the Carlton Arms with the fabulous @mErocrush !!
wanna see a preview??


yeah, I pretty much love this one. :)

Check out Melvin's website for even more of his awesomeness!

UGH

My work computer network is getting destroyed by viruses and malware. God damn it.

WHO THE HELL IS SURFING PORN HERE?