OK, before I tell you the Poopy story I have to come up with a name for this guy. So if y'all want to hear the story about how I got the nickname Poopy then you need to help.
Here are some interesting facts. Put your suggestions in the comments.
We met in a bar. He saved me from a scary drunk guy who was mauling me
He looks 24 but is actually coming up on 40
He has a sense of humor just as twisted as mine
His last name is a form of GIANT COCK
He tried to make me wear a Cowboys jersy just to make me squirm (even though he hates the team)
He has this secret sweet/romantic side that keeps popping up and surprising the crap out of me.
So, what do you all think? And no, I'm not going to call him GiantCock. You must be more creative than that.
The weekend was full of goodness. Everything from a night chatting with my dear friend Ex around a bonfire (sometimes in the general drudgery of living and raising kids we forget that we actually like spending time together) to a cold windy soccer game to winterizing the garden. The highlight of the weekend though was definitely the corn maze. The Family Von Sass joined the Buffett Clan for the time honored Fall tradition of finding the perfect pumpkin and other silliness.
Some of you might be operating under the misconception that living the life of Sassy is all glamore and crazy hot sex. Sadly, today I'm here to set the record straight. Officially, I do more than just have crazy hot sex and it's not always glamorous.
Exhibit 1- Not sex and not glamorous The House of Sass has been under a severe financial crunch of late. Ok, Ok, fine, that's complete crap. We've been in a fucking financial catastrophe and it has robbed me of my sanity, my smile, my sleep and my sassitude. In short, I have been in a very dark bad place. I won't be shitting rainbows but things will get better soon. I had to burn my pride at the stake and go to my parents for a loan. They generously agreed to help. They assured me that I'm not a failure and that the economy is telling everyone to grab their ankles in one form or another. Things are still going to be tight but I will at least be making ends meet and I'm going to allow myself to be proud of that.
Exhibit 2- About sex (sorta) but definitely not glamorous or hot. No, definitely NOT HOT! My parents came over for dinner last night and somehow the conversation went from hemorrhoids to anal sex. I had a conversation with my parents and my children at my dinner table, while eating cherry pie, about double dipping. Y'all are dying for an invitation to my house now, aren't you? While the talk was disturbing, my mother's facial expressions were down right horrifying. Every time a conversation comes up about things related to the arse, the bung hole, the sphincter, the crapper, my mom makes a face. It's a fish face. But, BUTT... . Please note the pen. I cannot cross my eyes without help and even then the results are rather sucktastic. That either means I'm brilliant or a complete fucking moron. I'm not sure which.
Earlier this week I was discussing on Facebook (and with anyone within earshot who was willing to listen to me whiiiiine about it) that the students are back on campus and OH MAH GAAAH, THEY ARE SO STUPID. Dumb as deer and with less sense than God gave a gnat. I swear to Jeff Foxworthy, I'm NOT exaggerating. I watched one almost get run over by a very slow moving bus. Another fell over a bench because she was too busy texting to look where she was walking. With this level of common sense, what the hell is going to happen when they start drinking?
And then, this morning, while walking to work and daydreaming about a very hot architect, I got run over by a bike. . . . . . Yes, yes. You read that right and damn you for your superb eye focusing skillz. I got run over by a damn bike. A bike WITH BELLS ON IT! Someone asked me if it had tassels on the handlebars too and to be honest, I don't think so. But I didn't notice the entire fucking bike until it was literally on top of me, so it's quite possible there was a full circus of naked dancing midgets on the handle bars and I somehow missed it.
Ever since I moved to Madison I have been longing to go to the local hookah bar. Seriously, it's a hookah bar. How fun would that be? Tons of fun, I was convinced. I mentioned it to at least 20 different people saying that it's something I wanted to experience just once. I'm that kind of person. I love the random experiences in life and I want to try them all.
Saturday I had my chance and it turned out to be more awesome than I ever imagined. You see, it's not just a hookah bar, it's actually a gay hookah bar. A gay hookah bar with karaoke. A gay hookah bar with karaoke during Pride weekend. Fucking Awesome!
I was out with my cousin who was in pimp mode once again and after consulting with some of his lesbian friends on where he might find me some pretty ladies the Hookah came up. And so we went. On the drive over he kept trying to figure out what my type was. Butch or Lipstick? I didn't like the sound of either one. Lipstick just makes me think of overly slicked up high maintenance girlie girls. So not my thing. But butch? No. I want a woman who is a woman, not a man with an extra set of lips. What I discovered that night was that a gay man thinks that damn near every gay woman is butch. Of course every gay man I have ever met has been at least a little bit queenie in my opinion too. We all have our bias. But when I asked him how he would describe me and he came back with "a very feminine butch" I decided that I had absolutely had enough of that word. It's not complimentary. It brings to mind women who look more like men. Women who spit and wear flannel and don't shave. Nope. That word is officially being banned from my vocabulary. I have never been a fan of the word cunt. I have officially placed butch right up there with it. Do. Not. Like.
I met some fantastic people that night, gay and straight. I laughed so hard I almost cried many many times over. I cannot even begin to explain all the awesome of the night except to say that it contained big burly bear type men in teeny tiny Richard Simmons shorts calling my daah-llling.
KidzSongz that I have found disturbing since listening to them for 862 hours straight while in the presence of my preshus nephews.
1. The Cat Came Back Dude, the cat is killing people. What hell is wrong with you?
2. There's a Hole in my Scrotum Bucket Sorry MyHope'sHusband, that one is still funny!
3. Froggy Went a'Courtin' With a gun? Really? No wonder our children are in need of so much therapy. And did anyone else hear the part where he went down on Miss Mousy? That is just not appropriate for a 3 year old. Awesome, but still, not appropriate!
And finally, I'm sitting outside at the patio table playing some Facebook Bejeweled. It's a timed game. A timed game that I'm not very good at. A timed game that I'm not very good and apparently need to just walk away from. As my 1 minute runs out I shout "I'm not done yet! OMG, I'm this close and you stop? Bastard!" Only to look up and see a horrified mother walking by on the park path covering her child's ears and looking around for the man who couldn't last...
Yes, I'm free to babysit. You can pay me in whiskey.
One of the very first conversations MyHope and I had when I arrived in the valley of the sun went something like this:
MyHope- Why aren't you playing Facebook Bejeweled Sassy- *slurps drink and shrugs* MyHope- No, really, OMG, YOU MUST PLAY!! Sassy- *gulps adult beverage and nods in a rather believable (but probably not) way* MyHope- THE WORLD WILL END IF YOU DON'T PLAY WE MUST BEAT EX!! Sassy- *pulls head out of her whiskey and begins to pay attention*
You see, I have a teeny tiney competitive streak. I might just be a little bit compulsive about it. It's not a nasty ugly, my day is ruined if I lose kind of thing, but it does take control of my brain on occassion.
Facebook Bejeweled has officially eaten my soul.
They all (the entire Ex-family) have been playing for weeks and have built up some pretty good skillz. I on the other hand suck fantastic suckiness. And so I must practise and must play to get better and must beat them must must cannot stop must play.
The weekend was good. (And not good, but not good in an OMG, I am now laughing my ass off kind of way)
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Friday I had a very bad first date. But when I compared my really bad first date to a friend's really bad first date, He won. I can't even begin to try and top a first date where drunk friends need to be driven to new bars and boobs are popping out uninvited. Just wow. But that's his story and he doesn't have an invitation to Sassy's house. MY date. Oooo, howdy. It was the really blind but not really blind date set-up. And holy shit do I wish I was blind. He was not the big muscled dream I was originally led to believe. He was in fact more round than big. And he was short which didn't help with the round. He had the Hulk Hogan mustache:
AND he tans everyday. So he was a round Hulk Hogan mustached LEATHERY guy. A round HH stached leathery guy who while complimenting me and telling me how beautiful I was and planning our summer vacation schedule was also reminding me how lucky I was to be sitting in front of him at all because he was THE SHIT. It was the money conversation that according to my mother should have secured him a place in my heart for all time and all I really wanted to do was run away. I was not able to run away fast enough though. Before my car door slammed I learned a few things. I learned that he tans in the nude so the only white place on his body is between his butt cheeks. He actually said that exact phrase to me. So I was taken there against my will and now so were you. To really do our time here justice, think about it for a minute. He is leathery EVERYWHERE except for in his crack...
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Are you back? Draino poured in your eyes? Good, that might help with the rest because we are so not done yet. I also learned that he is not a tighty whitey nor a boxers man. Oh no. He loves the commando. So now you get to picture his leathery man meat rubbing up against his zipper trying to escape, with no other barrier to protect unsuspecting by-standers. I didn't actually see the leather schlong but what I see in my head is enough to make me want to pour Clorox in my ear and swish it around a bit for good measure. Top it off with the fact that before I got my car door shut he sniper kissed me with a bad bad bad kiss. And I'm trying to dance away from the much too thin zipper covering his leathery sausage. OMG!
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Also on Friday I got to hear Thing2, who is 11, say, "And then they ate her out."
I didn't really need clarification to know he meant that entirely innocently and in fact has no idea what the phrase might imply. But still, it was a shock!
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Saturday I watched Thing1 in his play. He had the male lead. He was the nerdy good guy who got the girl. He had his first fight scene and on stage kiss. It was so cool!
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Sunday was nice. I had time with my Momma and time with my Things. Then I had time to just be Sassy. It was perfect.
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And to wrap things up, I have one more funny for you.
I had plans to go over to LocalGuy's house to watch a movie. About 20 minutes before I was supposed to be there, he called me and asked, "Is it OK if I stay in my sweats?" ... boggle ... I really wanted to say "Is it OK if I don't shave my legs?!?!?!" but I didn't because, well, I wasn't sure whether he would be seeing my legs or not, and I had already shaved them. Then I assumed he absolutely must have been kidding. Upon arrive, he was most definitely not kidding. Top it off with the fact that he smelled like a burning barrel and you've got one hell of a good time folks. Astoundingly, I'm looking forward to seeing him again.
I had such a great weekend and there will be stories and PICTURES to come. But for now you get bullet points because I have something much more important to share with you. In other words, you've got to make it through boring bullet points to get to the good stuff. And by good I mean, so deliciously bad I'm bound to get at least a few hate emails out of it, good. You ready? Here we go.
There is something inherently sexy about riding a motorcycle and I'm pretty much positive it has everything to do with the vibrating.
Sooner or later we're going to have to talk about Them. --- Them? you ask. Humor me damnit. Yes, Them - The Bad Kissers *duhnduhnduuuuh*
Coffee always tastes better at the farmer's market
Picture the high school football team running through a paper banner at the beginning of their game. Now picture that giant paper banner sporting a picture of Buddy Christ. - The quarterback giving him a high five as he runs through to greet the fans. Awesome, but I'm not sure that's what the sweet little catechism boys had in mind.
Flowers flowers flowers.
Cheesy teen vampire movies with my favorite girl.
Cookie Dough
Lions and tigers and bears - oh my!
Did he just take a picture of my ass?
Photoshop magic
Kisses that literally made my legs feel like jello... and I don't usually like jello!
And now for the goods. This is what you've been waiting for. First, watch this:
Stolen from Metallia. You should thank her. This is a much better topic of conversation than my love affair with good vibrations, drooly puppy kisses and bone-melting/ knee-weakening other kisses.
Did you watch it the whole way through? Yes, the snake thing is weird. The choice of models was... odd. But the foot scrubber... Christ on a cracker did you see it?
Alright, let's break this down step by step.
1. It's apparently very dangerous to reach your neck.
2. The only time I make that face in the shower is when I'm spending quality time with the jets of my shower head... errr... or when I pulled a muscle trying to touch my shoulders, yeah, definitely then.
3. Reaching your bottom is several inches from you shoulders that's super complicated!
4. OK, here's where I have to get serious.
If you cannot reach between your legs then there are issues that must be discussed. For example, how the hell do you wipe your ass? This is a hygiene thing. Are there flushable versions of this thing because there's no way in hell I'm reusing that.
5. If you go to this spot in the clip, it's like she's caressing the thing with much more on her mind than just washing her back. Of course, this takes me right back to #4 and maybe this isn't such a bad idea after all. The friction... things that make you go hmmm.
6. Then they immediately shift gears on me.
I need more warning when we're changing the tone. I was mentally halfway to happy town when I saw this woman sniffing a wash cloth rotting meat. No really, it looks like a bad piece of pork steak. Hey lady, you're not suppose to wash with that. No wonder you are in pain after a soak in the tub. Your rubbing botulism on your lady parts.
7. Then of course we get sexual again.
I know you see it. Don't play coy with me. That's a representation of a woman's love canal and you know it. So this...
this....
this...
Dear God, how'd we skip fisting and end up here?
Go on, scroll back up and watch it again. I know you want to. ____________________________________
I've got stuff going on but I'm not sure I'm ready to talk about it. There's good stuff. There's plain old everyday life stuff. And of course, there's crappy stuff. All in all, I'm good. No need to worry.
But just so y'all don't feel neglected, I thought I'd let you enjoy some dating crazy of your own:
See that widget over that that displays my 4 followers. One of those is me, that makes 3. Now I know there are more of you that read me than that, and I want to see who you are. Give it a click and let me know you're here.
Also, We have CHICKENS!
This one was Dead On Arrival. We honored him by having a grilled chicken caeser salad for dinner. Yummmm.
The chickens do not have a names yet and the Things have agreed to open it up for internet suggestions. Please leave suggestions in the comments.
We have two stand-by chickens that are nesting on the kitchen table
And the adventurous chicken. So far, these are a few of the places he has turned up:
mmm, toasted chicken.
Frozen drummies?
He also crawled into the bread basket and hid among the bunnies on the front porch. He held his breath in Thing2's shoes and was chillin with the string cheese.
If you have no clue what this whole Chicken Game is about, go here and here and here!
So, now for the names. Ready Set Go! ____________________________________
