Guilty pleasures. Or, reasons I’ll likely burn in hell.

The hottest ho I know (we’ll call her “The Destroyer”) asked me to blog my guilty pleasures.  And when The Destroyer asks a question, mama answers.  Plus, what better way to kick off the 2012 holiday season of “Warmth in the Arctic Circle” (WAC), than by telling you the dark things that make me happy?  Once I started making my long and dirty list, I started asking my shady friends what their guilty pleasures were… some are listed here, but I won’t say which ones are mine and which ones belong to those sluts. We gotta keep it interesting.  I would like to begin by asking sweet little baby Jesus to forgive himself for the way he created us.

People falling down.

People falling down is funny, so long as they don’t hurt themselves (I’m not that much of a dick). I almost ended my marriage once because I laughed my ass off when Sugardaddy slipped and fell at his office after hours and, unfortunately for him, I was there to witness it in all its glory.

Fights that include bitch slaps

This doesn’t need much explaining. It just makes me happy.


Like a cold beer on a hot summer day, or after I play sand-volleyball. Or before. Or during. Or right after I have a baby. I’m talkin’ like, the doctor hands me the slimey little baby in one hand, and some nameless bastard (or my husband) hands me a cold beer in the other. You have to ignore the dirty looks you get from the hospital staff. They’re just jealous because you’re drinking and they’re not.

Fashion Magazines

I know… I’m supposed to hate these things. That’s what the 2nd wave feminists told me. Luckily, I’m like a 3rd or 4th wave feminist (if there is one, I don’t fuggin’ know). So I like things that look pretty. Including women and their clothing and accessories. Specifically, shoes and purses, blue jeans, hairstyles, hairstyling tips, fitness motivation, and makeup art.  Maybe I have a hard time actually applying this crap to my life, but I like to read about it. I think of it as a time-out from real life, where I often sport workout items, not so much because I work out all the time, but because they’re stretchy.  I also enjoy Esquire magazine. The writers are funny, and they always feature curvy women. I’m thinking about contacting them to have them permanently airbrush me. That’s how it works, right?


If you haven’t tried it, maybe you should.  I’m listing this as a guilty pleasure because sexting gets such a bad rap. If your sex life isn’t enhanced in even the slightest degree by sexting, then maybe you’ve got some bigger problems on your hands. Just sayin’.

E! Entertainment Television

I could sit on a sofa and watch that train wreck all day. I like watching pretty people who shop all day, especially when their lives occasionally completely disintegrate before the eyes of the entire world. Then I remember they’re real people, and I just sink into an existential stupor, contemplating the meaning of life, the dire struggle of so many people around the world with access to next to nothing that they need to survive, and which celebrity’s Prada bag I liked the most. It’s okay though, because I’m drunk when this happens. Which leads me to…

Britney Spears

So what if I like a little post-apocalyptic orgy action, taking place to a catchy pop song? We were also born just nine days apart, so I’m fairly certain that we have some sort of psychic connection. It explains her nervous breakdown a few years back. I would’ve come forward and taken responsibility for that, but I know she likes all that attention. You’re welcome, Britney.

Fist fights

If you are crazy-sexy-hot, dirty, sweaty, and not wearing a shirt, I wouldn’t mind seeing you engage in a fist fight with another man. Email me if you are interested in an audition ( The closer it looks to this scene from Sherlock Holmes, the better.

Watching people squirm

Like telling your racist homophobic step-grandmother who hates your family that her grandson is gay and in a committed relationship with a black man. Or telling your husband about the dirty things your in-laws likely do to each other. Pure joy.

Smoking cigars

It’s bad for you, the whole mouth and throat cancer thing… but the taste of a cigar and a stiff drink on the lips of an attractive man makes mama want some.  Which leads me to…

Masturbating during the kid’s nap time

Nobody, not even Chuck Norris himself, can get my two small children to nap at the same time. So I don’t even need to explain that this one isn’t mine, but I’m jealous as hell of that crazy slut. Anyone who is awarded this kind of leisure time is my idol. Teach me, master.


Apparently this is a big no-no, but mama likes. Warmth, Vitamin D, my skin moving from pastey blue to simply pastey, ignoring my 4-year old while she plays dangerously close to the water… these are all good things.

White girl privilege

While this one has its many downsides (like the fact that it is even a social reality), it’s one that I’ve intentionally used multiple times to get what I want.  Like when I was 18 and living in a semi-racist town, and my friend Kerry (who is also a white girl) and I crawled into the back of my buddy’s pickup truck to scare him as he started driving away, and then he swerved all the way down my street to get back at us, and then got pulled over by a cop on a motorcycle as he pulled into my dad’s driveway.  Kerry and I stopped just shy of taking our shirts off for that guy to keep my friend from getting a ticket, but he was putty in our hands. I’ve always wondered if he realized what a tool he was as he drove away on his little cop motorcycle. Oh well– mission accomplished.

Touching and sniffing soft leather products with no intention of buying them

It’s soft and it smells good, and it’s expensive. You understand…

Flirting with old men or hot guys just to know you’ve still got it

If you have two kids and stretch marks, you understand.  A girl just needs to feel desired sometimes.  And, old men’s equipment may not work anymore, but their minds are still as dirty as ever. Sometimes they need an extended hug. Be a good neighbor!


Sexy film for my crackas.

New sexy film post over at Big Touch, bitches!! CLICK HERE to see that sexy business.

“Black men tell me my penis is huge”, and other half-truths.

As if I haven’t already publicly humiliated myself 100 times over with this stupid blog, I’ve decided to start a sex page called Big Touch. You can get to it through the top menu, too.

Maybe it is birthed out of a time a few weeks ago when I was eating juicy lucies at Matt’s Bar where my girlfriend was telling me she’s had jaw issues ever since she had braces as a kid, and then I told her that must be rough since I’m sure her husband has a really huge dick, and I’m sure she gives him head like ALL the time.  Or maybe it originates with my friend asking me why drinking a lot of wine makes it hard for her to cum during sex with her husband who has a penis that is on the shorter side, but of great girth (baby ain’t nothin’ wrong with that).  Or maybe it is because that vibrator I bought 2 months ago is actually for men, but I didn’t know because it didn’t say that on the package, and the very helpful ladies at Smitten Kitten must not realize that my husband doesn’t want me sticking vibrating shit in his ass. Nor do I want to stick shit (vibrating or no) in my husband’s ass.

I will say this… I am really fucking clueless. Not about how to have sex, but about sex culture. I was reading a column at Sexis the other day, where The Bloggess writes things that make my brain explode, and one of the other columnists, The Devil’s Advocate, was writing about the overuse of the word “misogyny” within the sex positive culture, and it occurred to me that I don’t even know what that shit is. I had to google “sex positive.” Oh, so it’s a whole movement– got it.  I’ve been a self-described feminist (and a self-appointed Ruler over Everything) for years, but I really gotta get with the program.  This is what happens when you study socio-economics and global urban poverty for ten years– you ignore the important things in life. Like my vagina.  And how can I effectively rule over everyone’s life when I don’t even know what the fuck is going on?

Swag-ger (noun). /’swag-er/

That crazy Sri Lankan, M. I. A., got me thinking, fantasizing… wishing I could dress up in a cheerleader uniform and dance next to Madonna… One of my favorite songs with her is “Swagga like us”.  It’s about how no one on the corner has swagger like her and her friends.

M. I. A. I. Believe. You.

And when she tells me about this, about her swagger being better than mine, I believe every word.  And I think that just proves her point.  When you believe you’re amazing, and then you have the skills to convince everyone else that it’s true— that’s swagger.

I have a feeling people think about this more than we realize. Maybe they don’t think about it in the exact term “swagger”, but the idea is there. It’s an element of seduction, I think.

I asked my associate, Thug Life, what he had to say about swagger. “G’s up, hoes down” was his response. And then he said,

“Swagger is a little new school for an old gangster like me baby.”

Merriam Webster says: (I thought this lacked the positive connotation I associate with swagger, but whatev)

a) arrogant or conceitedly self-assured behavior

b) a self-confident outlook: cockiness

The Urban Dictionary says: (This was my favorite)

Swagger is the confidence exuded as a reflection of one’s dress, shoe game [so true!!!], attitude, and how one handles a situation [RIGHT??!!!].

You can learn how to dress just by jocking my fresh
Jocking jocking my fresh
Jocking jocking my fresh
Follow my steps, it’s the road to success
Where the niggas know you thorough
And the girls say yes
But I can’t teach you my swag
You can pay for school but you can’t buy class
School of hard knocks I’m a grad
And that all-blue Yankee is my graduation cap
–Jay Z////Swagger Like Us

Of all the things I love about that song, I think I like Jay Z singing ” jocking jocking my fresh, jocking jocking my fresh” the best. When they performed it at the 2009 Grammys, M. I. A. was literally about to pop a baby out of her vaj. It was a magical performance. Where was I.  Oh yeah, the song is about how no one has swagger like them. And you know what? I believe them.

Recent swagger moment: John Legend singing about how tonight he’s going to give you the best lovin’ you’ve ever had. And  you know what folks? I believe him, too. Shhhhh gather round, listen.

Striking and unexpected swagger moment: A couple of years ago I was reading Esquire magazine, and I laid eyes on who I believe to be one of the ugliest people on the planet– Arnold Schwarzenegger. I’m sorry, but dude is ugly. But these pictures… really showed the swagger that man has. Because when I saw them, the exact thought that came into my mind was, “Wow, I bet he really knows how to fuck.”

Insert this into your bloodstream >>>

It’s Friday, I’ve had very little adult human contact this week, and my teething baby kept me up all night last night.  In an effort to keep some good karma circulating (as well as a little alcohol in our bloodstreams), I bestow this gift on you >>> The Esquire Drinks Database.

I just discovered it, and I got really excited. It’s got a whiskey sour recipe that really should be listed on my Bourbon page. But I wouldn’t want to rob you of such an exquisite piece of work, just because you might not be a bourbon type o’ gal/guy.

And of course, I’m serving up this little freebie with the hot help of Sofia Vergara, hottest woman on the television right now, besides Rose Rollins. (Blessings be to you, Ms. Vergara).

All food should have bourbon in it.

I’m starting an entire page of food with bourbon in it. I’ll add to it as time goes on, and as bourbon slowly begins to infiltrate its way into all foods, making for happier, warmer people all over the world.

For now, there is one item on the list. And it needs to get in my mouth. But I’m too lazy to make it, so I’m going to go workout, and when I get back, there better be some fresh beignets waiting for me on my kitchen table. Please don’t make me resort to child labor. Because I’ll do it.

Bourbon item #1… Beignets in bourboned butterscotch.

Unless you hate sex and violence (wtf???), you’ll want to see this.

If you fall into one or more of these categories:

  • You want to see white men as slaves
  • You’re straight but wondering if you’re bisexual or gay
  • You enjoy watching gladiators spar for their lives
  • You’re prudish enough to not like straight-up porn, but you really like watching other people have sex
  • You are a gay man that longs for a day when man-love is simply an accepted part of society. Oh wait that’s Greece… well Rome is close enough.
  • You appreciate class rebellion
  • You like girl-on-girl action
  • You occasionally get the urge to see intestines fall out of people’s bodies
  • You like guy-on-guy action
  • You don’t like guy on guy action, so you need it in quantities reasonable enough to fast-forward through
  • You just can’t get enough of that gladiator shoe trend
  • You need something to help you appreciate a free and democratic society, even if you ARE unemployed
  • Chicks in masks clawing and killing each other seems to be a missing element in your life

then you will definitely want to watch this show.

and then you’ll want to watch THIS show, so we can chat about it afterward ohmigod!!!!

Andy Whitfield, R.I.P.

I’ll miss you.

Fast-forward seven days….

Here’s Season 2: Episode 1.  I’m not a huge fan of new guy, but Crixus is still in it to win it, and I’m a loyal gal. I’ll never leave him.

Lil’ warning– this is some graphic stuff.  I think I had forgotten just how graphic… Enjoy!