Something Meaningful

I read your message, it whisked me off, into memories of you.
A longing, buried for some time, the desire to return to you.
Quietly, I sit and feel each breath, let the memories whisk me to you.

The love in your eyes and the warmth of your skin,
Whisk me away into your arms once again.

I am over here, you are over there,
Simultaneously living out our lives,
Without each other to share.

I wish I could be there for you in your time of need,
Such sadness I feel for your loss, a need to take leave.

A quickening heart alerts me,
Points me in the right direction,
The direction of inquisition,
Did I make the right decision?

To stay here, to write,
To give up what we had.
Will you still be there for me,
Have I lost you, am I mad?

It's a silly question really,
We will be in our hearts forever.
The fingers long to write their story,
The soul yearns for happily ever after.

The question still remains,
it haunts me and it blames.

Stay here and write, go there and live?
The two don't seem to melt for me,
One or the other is all I have to give.

What is here for me but myself and my thoughts?
Yet upon return, most pieces of me
Are left to the wayside, they get lost
To blend the two harmoniously,
I know not.

I can't imagine my future with any other.
An ache to return, to resume it all again,
Slip back on the grid,
Come out from under cover.

There is something so intoxicating about normalcy and fitting in,
Yet when I am home, visions of escaping takes hold of me once again.

Isolated, in my bamboo prison,
Sheltered with my words and pen.

I sit alone in Thailand and wonder
How did this all begin again?

The grass is always greener, I am constantly chasing my tail,
I know not what will satiate, what will fulfill.
I dream of something all encompassing ,
Something true and something deep
Yet in life, I pick up fragments,
I live in spaces in between.

Nothing deep, I don't penetrate, A dust particle named Patricia
Floating on the surface,
Touching down but for a moment,
I slip back into a coma.

A gust, a breeze, revived again I am, by greener pastures,
Floating onwards, floating forwards, to the newest dream that I chase after.

I wish I could say I am sorry,
I wish I could say I will come home to you,
I wish I could say what the next moment will bring.

Nothing but my eternal love can I pledge,
But promises of the future I cannot give.
Inspired by you, I relentlessly persist,
This road, this journey,
This dream,
I cannot
Resist.

~I surrender to The Writing Womb~

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The Quiff Heard Round The Room

***Warning, this is a Very Graphic post!  If you are sensitive to 'The Sex' stuff, then you shouldn't read any more of this***

There’s dishes to do, laundry to be done, showering to be had and food to be made to console my grumbling belly. Instead of doing those things, I will share with you another Embarrassing True Tale from the vaults of The Naked Writer.

Ok, so I have told this story maybe 3 times EVER and have NEVER put it down on the page. It’s embarrassing to the nth degree! Each time I told it I was either drunk or high which therefore made me all confession-y and shit! I assure you I am neither of those today.

This is one of those things that happens to you that just traumatizes you to the very core and gives you a complex till the day you die.  Here goes…

When I was 12-13,  I desperately wanted to have sex because all of my grade 7 and grade 8 circle of friends had already done so (a couple of them even had a child already). Also, I  wanted to be a grown up so bad and sex was the #1 way I could accomplish that feat (at least that’s what my retarded puberty infested brain thought). 

I was afraid of 'The Sex', so in order to fit in, I lied and said that I too had 'The Sex'.

It wasn’t for a lack of suitors that I hadn't done it yet. I had lots
of opportunities I could of taken but every time I got close, I would get scared that they would know I was a Lying Virgin.

I didn’t know what this 'Cherry' was that a man was supposed to pop but it caused me a lot sleepless nights.

"Why can’t I ‘pop’ it? What needs to be done to it in order to make it 'pop'?  Is it an actual Cherry? What happens after it has popped? Does the man who 'popped my Cherry' get to take it home like an Oscar or a gleaming Treasure? 
Or is it some kind of animated Cherry Monster that pops his head out of my Vag sounding like Mr. Sulu from Star Trek ‘Heeelllllooooo?!!’

I was confused about the Cherry thing and too proud to ask cause then people would be on to the fact that I was a Virgin posing as an advanced Sex Kitten.

Every day at lunch or after school, the girls and I would hang out in a big slutty friendly group sharing our Sex stories. I would of course have to make shit up to prove I was as slutty womanly as they were.
Whenever they talked about The Sex, I didn’t have a fucking clue as to what they were saying and I wondered if they saw right through my lie.
 
I would make up wild stories about sexual escapades I never even had and justify the lies to myself with this little gem;  'thinking is just the same as doing right?' 
 
I’d be all like "Oh you guys, you’re never going to believe it,  I was with this hot guy last night, he is like 10 years older than me and you have never met him cause he was only in town for one night, but we were having all The Sex and his Pubes were so manly and his dick was as big as my feakin' arm you should of seen it you guys, WOW! "

 And my girlfriends were like 'Um, Patricia, didn’t that hurt?'

 I was like 'Pssshhaw No!  I am queen of The Sex so why would THAT hurt?' 

Then they would look at each other and laugh amongst themselves whispering  something something 'what a Whore' something something  'loosest pussy ever' and I would laugh and agree with them cause having a loose pussy is cool right? Plus being a called a Whore in my group was akin to being called Rocky after Rocky 1 came out (cause you were still the champ even though you didn't win).
So the sex didn’t happen when I was 12 or 13.  I got close a few times but would always back away due to the fear I felt that even if the lights were out, somehow, with advanced night vision technology that all boys would probably possess, they would be able to see my 'unpopped' Whowho Cherry.

My pride was too large to have people finding out that I was a liar so this all prevented me from acting on The Sex.

A couple of weeks before my 14th birthday, I took off to live with my mom who lived in a little town 3 hours north of the city.

Cool, I didn’t know anyone there so I could start over and be truthful about my virginity right?  ARRRRR wrong!

In my mind I was the Goddess of Sex and people want to be friends with people who like to have lots of sex right? That's what makes people popular right?

So I guess the picture I painted wasn’t a very pretty one. It was more of an exaggerated slutty version of my 14 year old self.  After all, I was a bad ass rocker chick from the city, I would be the coolest of the 500 kids in school and everyone would love me and worship my beauty and sex appeal.

Like a slutty jackass, I created an image that was so not who I was.   I was the slutty sexy city girl who knew it all and had done it all.
I dressed the part and walked around in skin tight black jeans and thick chunky 4" heeled boots and tiny tops that barely covered my nipples.  My face was always caked with make up with that 'suck the cheeks in, I am too cool for school model look (think Zoolander)'.
I was 14 going on 21 (a slutty 21) and somehow, I was proud of that.

My teachers, however, were not too happy with my image. I had altercation after altercation with them (especially the women) and frequently would get sent home for the day for wearing inappropriate clothing.

I felt happy to be singled out (cause that proved to me that I was a total bad ass) and would incessantly antagonize this one teacher cause she hated me so much.  On one of the days when she kicked me out of her class for basically wearing pasties to school (not really but almost) I screamed at her that she was just ‘ a jealous fucking whore who had no tits'  and that's why she had to kick me out of her typing class...because of her obvious jealousy! Her and I fought every day until eventually she figured out I liked getting kicked out of her class and I did it on purpose. So she devised an evil scheme to make me take her stoopid typing class.  She brought in a huge grey granny sweater and every time I would come into her class, she would make me wear it buttoned all the way. She wins!

OK, yes, I was a 14 year old shit disturbing bitch with an anger problem and  major self esteem issues, who needed any kind of attention (good or bad) that she could get.

But cut me some slack, see I learned this behaviour from my mom (who had me at a very young age) and she encouraged this behaviour, buying me booze to sneak into school dances, and giving me condoms to go have sex and giving me weed to smoke and even buying me all those sexy revealing tops while she laughed and said, “this will make them shit their pants” and "I can’t wait to hear what that cunt of a teacher does to you this time don’t even bother to wear a bra with this shirt, Trish”.

This was pretty much the only bond that her and I had so she taught, with her actions, that I was loved more when I was shocking, rebellious, and acting inappropriately.

So of course I tried very hard to be those things that she encouraged me to be (every kid wants their parents to love them after all).  I know it’s a totally Bizarro Pavlov's Dog type of behaviour that has made my life hell for a long time, truthfully, I still struggle with it from time to time. *shrugs*

So, the guy, who finally took my virginity we will call him MR. A (cause he’s the first one see?) was a hunky 17 year old with dark hair and dark eyes, who made me mixed tapes of his favourite metal bands and he was like a radio Dj, as he introduced each song and inventively dedicated them to me, telling me how much he loved me before each song had begun and why that particular song was one of his favourites (he was really sweet and any man who can make Symphony of Destruction by Megadeath sound romantic was a keeper in my books at that time.)

Even though he couldn’t spell, he would write me quasi Ebonic poetry about how I was made just for him and little notes that thanked me for being born. 

He also had a bad assed rebellious side as he was the guy who smoked cigarettes and weed outside of the principles window and said, ‘yeah, whatcha gonna do about it?’ He always drank beer at lunch instead of eating in the cafeteria. I thought he was dreamy cause he was so grown up, so manly... in fact, he already had a 2 year old kid that he didn’t take care of when we met up! What a catch!

It was like we were two sides of the same coin…a perfect blend of bad ass and romance, we stayed together for 4 months which at 14, is practically like 10 years.

OK, so I will skip the first few sexual encounters I had with this man ( I will get to that on another post cause it’s equally as embarrassing as this story).

Now, because of all the liberties my mom gave me, we could have 'The Sex' and also party as hard as we wanted, when ever and where ever we wanted to. He could sleep over at my house and when his parents were away, I was allowed to sleep over at his place.

Now, this guy was a big boy, at just over 9” my lie came true and I did do it with a man who had a arm sized Penis! So because of his size,  I never really got to enjoy The Sex, it was this nauseating, painful experience that was void of any kind of pleasure at all!

Maybe I was too young, maybe my body wasn’t ready for things like that. I found that getting really drunk, helped ease it into a more tolerable experience for me.

So finally about 2 months into our relationship, his parents had left for the weekend and we had the whole place to ourselves (this was a first for us). We have a bunch of drinks, smoke a J and I am starting to relax as all thoughts about the inevitable pain that will ensue are slipping away from my consciousness…we are free to try new things and free to be as loud as we want!

We are laying on the couch watching Fern Gully and having a smoke. Fern Gully was new on VHS and I loved cartoons (as you can see not much has changed in that department although sadly I was never able to watch Fern Gully again after this traumatizing experience).

Eventually, we started fooling around and things got all hot and heavy.
I was on top of him passionately kissing and fondling him when all of a sudden, he lifts me up and onto his face.

"WHAT THE FUCK? Does this man have a death wish?  How can he breathe? Do men have gills that I an not aware of? Super human powers of holding the breath?  How is it he isn't suffocating and what the hell is he doing down there??"

I stared at the Fern Gully movie in horror at what I was going through. I tried to move away but he held me tight and wouldn’t let me go.  I was trapped there on his face and what he was doing to me felt all icky and I didn’t know what the point of it was until…..jackpot!!!

'Ohhhh, that’s new!'

All of a sudden I stopped thinking about the ickyness of what he was doing because there was tremendous heat, energy, tingling and quivering down there that I never knew before. I was finally able to let go and be in the moment, finally able to feel pleasure during a sexual encounter. I understood 'The Sex' now.

I was totally enraptured and beyond the threshold of pleasure.  I felt like ‘Oh my God, I can’t fucking take this anymore' and I wasn’t sure what would happen if he continued.  I was becoming very fearful that I might just sky rocket through the ceiling and land in a galaxy far far away.

Suddenly, this fear of the unknown caused me to tense up and suck in my breath. I felt like I was about to go over the highest point of the worlds tallest rollercoaster and every part of me filled with dread, anxiety and anticipation as I braced myself for the unknown.

I waited with my breath held, but when nothing happened, just continued pleasurable sensations, I relaxed feeling quite relieved.

A soon as I relaxed, however, suddenly out of no where I hear;

PPPPPPPFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTTTTTT
QQUUUAAAACCCKKKKK!

And I turned around thinking, 'is there a duck in the room?'

It took a moment to register what was actually going on. The scene replayed in my head and I was like ‘did he just fucking fart?’'
"what a gross fucking pig!" but he kept doing what he was doing and was pretending that nothing happened and so did I cause it felt good and I didn’t want him to stop even though I really wanted to tell him how inappropriate it was that he let one rip while pleasuring me...whatever, young love!

So Monday, I get back to school.  I am all Sex Goddess Kitten, (Meow)  because I notice everyone in the entire school is staring at me. Everywhere I go, eyes follow me and people whisper...now in my ego maniacal narcissistic teenage self, I think "Damn,  I am extra hot today! Everyone wants me…must be all the mouth sex I got this weekend!"

I am up on my high horse for another few minutes until Mr. A’s best friend comes up to me and says "Hey Quiff Queen how’s it going?"

And I am all like "Yeah good, thanks for asking"  and I smile and walk  away wondering what a Quiff was and how did I get to be the Queen of said Quiffs? 

I figure out that Quiff must be code for sexy super hero and I was all like, "Yeah, Quiff girl to the rescue! Dah dah dah daaaa!

I was strutting my stuff all morning and winking at all my ‘admirers’ in the hallways thinking I was Queen shit of the school as my royality had finally been acknowledged by Mr. A's friend.

At lunch I went into the cafeteria and a bunch of the ‘friends’ I had acquainted myself with were all ‘hey Quiff master" and  "hey Quiff-ster and "hey Quiff-inator" and of course, "hey Quiff girl come here and sit on  us" after which, they would inevitably snicker.
My brain was spinning "Ummm what the fuck is a Quiff?????'  I started to panic a little,  I couldn’t ask anyone what it was because that could ruin my ‘reputation’ but I had a sinking feeling that Quiff wasn’t the super hero status I envisioned it to be.

When I got home, I asked my mom…and she’s all like, 'Quiff is a pussy fart' and I am all like 'What the hell? How does a pussy fart? Is it a second butt hole?'

She explains the process pretty much like this:

She then concluded with "just stop tensing up suddenly, it forces air in there. Remember, keep your 'one eye' neither shutting too tightly nor wide open with surprise.

'Wow, how very graphic Mom, got it!  So, it's like Goldilocks but for your whowho not too wide...not too shut...just right!'

Then,  it hit me, images of that magical Fern Gully night danced in my head as the most horrified of horrified expressions crossed my face as it suddenly dawned on me 'OH MY GOD, 'Mr. A' didn't fart while pleasing me, I was the one that totally farted while he was pleasing me and then he told EVERYONE AT SCHOOL!!!'

I was sooooo mortified!

I was raised by my  grandmother who taught me that ladies never fart, they fluff and a lady never fluffs in public let alone on her boyfriends face! (well she didn't teach me that last part but I assume that rule applies in that situation as well).

The images of the night before were stuck in my head replaying that one scene over and over again, in slow motion. I felt like an idiot,  how stupid was I not to know it was me that farted! How unlady like of me not to be mortified until this very moment!

I didn’t go to school for the rest of the week, feigning some sort of illness. The weekend passed and I thought, 'Good, no one will remember, it will be like it never happened and I can go back to being cool again. Everything will be just fine'.... but it wasn’t fine, not at all!

Just because an Ostrich buries its head in the sand for a week, doesn't mean it didn't Quiff!

I felt so terrible and asked 'Mr. A' why did he tell everyone and humiliate me like that?

He told me that he was bragging to his friends that he was the King of 'The Sex' and told them the story to illustrate the point he was trying to make to them. When I asked him how me Quiffing made him King,  he said 'because Dear, you didn't even try to stop me from carrying on...because I was that good!'

Oh the agony I felt, if I had only known it was me that did it at the time, maybe I could of saved myself all this ridicule?
He didn't seem to understand what the big deal was at all and totally thought I was being a spaz.

That nickname haunted me until I left that little town a few months later and it has terrorized me ever since.

Writing this down is the most embarrassing thing I have done in 5 years! My face is all red and I am traumatized from revisitng this experience, yet somehow, I can laugh about it now.

To this day, I cannot sit on any mans face and feel pleasure. I go all deer in the head lights and I totally numb out down there, turning to stone,  trying not to feel anything so that I don’t accidentally cough through my vaJayJay and be ridiculed for being Quiff Queen again!

Are you on the VaJayJay train now and need more? Check out Brans-Muffins site, she has some really funny and ingenious names for girly parts that will make you cry! Click here to check it out.


Score at the end of this game;
The Naked Writer: 0
The Evil Cunt of a Typing Teacher: 1

~I surrender to The Writing Womb~

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I Thought I Had No Friends, Until I Checked Out The Junk Mail Section Of My Hotmail Account!!

Wow!  In 22 days since becoming a Blogger, I have made some great friends, but didn’t know it because their emails were being blocked as Junk Mail!
*shakes head*
'Oh Hotmail, when will you ever learn?'

I checked out the ‘Junk Mail’ and was relieved that I did not miss out on all these unbelievable opportunities.

I  also felt thrilled that my popularity stock has risen and there were lots of emails that needed urgent responding to and people who needed help.

Oh, I feel so important now!

The pressure is on, as expectations are very high, with urgent emails from Allah himself and very important business matters to attend to from Abdoul, Mr. Buba and Mr. Mohamed.

How did I become so popular as to catch the eye of all these millionaires and God himself?

Hmmm, maybe it was the award I got a couple of days ago?  God always wants to deal with award winners!

Also, I am awesome, so of course all the millionaires would want to discuss important things with such and important person and split their fortunes with me as long as I help them with a few tiny details!

Boy, I sure am a lucky girl to have so many people (and God) that need my immediate attention and help.

I can’t wait to tell Dr. Foladay Dagogo, that yes, he can in fact trust me with his secrets of how they got the caramel in that yummy chocolate bar.

Dr. Foladay Dagogo will just require some simple banking information from me so he can then entrust me with all of his new found inheritance money, until he can take a boat from his country and reward me handsomely for being his BFF.

I guess they don’t have banks in his country so how fortunate it is for him that I just so happen to have a bank account to house his enormous fortune! OH LUCKY DAY FOR ME!

I can’t wait to send them all my personal banking information, social security card info and mothers maiden name…so I can help them expedite the financial transactions…cause that’s what new best friends do right?  Excellent!

So, you guys will be reading a blog written by a millionaire in 10-14 days when the bank wire has finally been processed!

Yippee!

I knew this was my calling and that being a Professional Blogger would pay off!

~I surrender to The Writing Womb~

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And The Award Goes To....ME And Then... You. Now Read The Funniest Acceptance Speech Ever And See If You Have Won An Award!!!

Yay! I got an award! Somebody ‘loves my blog’ and that makes me feel special!

Thanks to the Queen of the Cherry Poppers Eolist Petite for making my narcissistic dreams come true! ( I call her that cause she popped my award cherry and it felt good).

With such posts as The Unfortunate Blow Job Incident and That Red Bull Made Me Horny With A Karate Kick To The Vag,  how could she resist?  I knew the awards people would come knocking down my cyber door when I wrote those posts of inspiration!

When Eolist Petite passed the ‘I love your blog award’ torch over to me I wasn’t surprised (joke) (OK, not a joke) and I told her
“I will write a blog that will sweep you off your feet and poke you in the eye all at the same time! Thanks for thinking of me! “ wow! Wasn’t that clever of me?

I have a few people I  would like to thank (tears streaming down my face, mascara running, big booger bubble growing out of my right nostril)

First,  I would  like to thank my mom!

Mom, you’re the best for abandoning me in that dumpster as a tiny baby while you went off to prom. For without that experience, I would never have been raised by a hilarious pack of processed cheese who taught me the  ancient art of 'Le Force Du Fromage' for without the ‘Le Force’  I would never have been blessed with this prestigious award!

I would like to thank and send a shout out to my bed; I love you, you are my life, my band aid when I hurt, my love, my couch, my beauty salon, my meditation cushion, my dining table, my office, my networking guru, my own personal nudist colony, my entertainment center and occasionally, I sleep on you too!

I would like to thank the great and formidable Chuck Norris for years of funny material.

And last but not least, I would like to thank the fans for without you, I would be nothing but a blogger with no award.

So the rules of accepting this award are simple, I have to answer a question and  I am supposed to pay the award forward to….15 blogs????

Hey! I thought I was special!!! ARRRR! wrong! Upon further review, I am not so super fucking special...as almost everyone I really like, already has one these awards!  Hmmm score one for the 'Spit In Your Eye And Stomp All Over Your Precious Inflated Ego Team!'

Anyways, the question for me is:
'What /Who/ and/or Where would you be if you could choose your own destiny?'

Oh like the books? I have a confession to make, I always cheated on those Choose Your Own Destiny books….they were fun and all but it was a shame to read a whole 50 pages only to make the wrong choice and end up stuck in a hole in a scary cave somewhere waiting to die! What the hell kind of kids books were those anyways?

Ohhh wait, that was Choose Your Own Adventure books, totally different, I got it ;o)

First let me say, I never wish me to be anyone but me cause I am so full of awesomeness and fortitude that people bow when I walk into a room…or maybe they pass out from my particular brand of fortitude…whatever!

So, with that being said,  if I had to not be the coolest person in the world (ME), then the closest second best I can think of is this Unnameable Villian of Moxie...

I would have the mane of a Lion, the brain of Einstein, the wisdom of Buddha, the mad powers of a Jedi Knight, the face of Megan Fox with Angelina Jolie's lips, the horn of a Manatee, the heart of Jesus, Jenna Jameson's left breast and Pamela Anderson's right breast.
I would have the stomach of any Victoria secret model, the ass of Jessica Beil, the vagina of a virgin school girl who does Kegals, the wings of a Unicorn, and the legs of a Giraffe with the feet of a Monkey oh and all of Bill Gates’ money!

Then I would be ALMOST as Fantabulous as I am now.

I don’t know exactly what you would call that concoction but I think HOT and totally Increderiffic are the words that come to mind...  think about it, with those giraffe legs I could eat fruit way up in the trees so I would never have to pay for groceries again and then, because of my awesome wings, I could be like Star Trek and search the galaxies for new life forms and then the aliens could no longer probe me cause of my uber tight Vagina and they would no longer abduct me cause I would abduct them first and submit them to all sorts of random invasive tests like who could polish my Manatee horn the longest and who would win at Space Monopoly…

Does that answer your question? I would draw this for you but I think your imagination can do a better job than I ever could.

So, now to the Winners Circle Jerk!

In order to claim this award,
#1 you must (but don't really have to if you don't want to) pay it forward to a few of the blogs that you love but they HAVEN'T received an award yet (you are supposed to award 15 blogs but really? Come on!  5 - 10 is a better number and makes it more prestigious).
#2 you must (but don't really have to if you don't want to) also write a blog that includes this;

Take the very next Word Verification you get and make a blog about it.
No cheating and making up a cool Verification to write about. It should be at least a decent size paragraph...dress it up if you want with some cartoons or seal it with a kiss

Below, are the Creme De La Creme of blogs, if you haven't checked them out yet, I highly recommend that you do! Just wear some diapers cause accidents will most assuredly happen. Yes, some of them have been awarded already, but to them, I give the 'I love your blog again' award cause they rock so much, they need to be told again and again.

And the Winners of the I love your Blog award go to (in totally random order) click on the links if you want to visit their blog!

Indigo Wrath - Indigo Roth;  I love your writing! It's unique, witty and your stories leave me in awe....the fact that you pimp out Domino's Pizza every chance you get is an added bonus.

Hipstercrite - Your writing is so fresh and creative...you inspire me to continually think outside of the box. Thanks for that.

Organic Meatbag - Billy; Your blog cracks me up and I hope this award inspires you to write more often!

It Was Dark, Stormy and I Lost My Serial Comma - Wow that was awkward; Every time I see your name come up, I giggle at all the awkward moments that come rushing into my mind; like how awkward it is that your name and blog title took up so much space on this award post! You have a quirky sense of humor that is wonderful!

Hyperboleandahalf - Allie; I love your work so much!  I try not to eat for 10 hours before reading your blog cause you make me laugh so hard that brain spits out of my butt hole and somehow not eating for a while helps with that. Thanks for inspiring me to give cartooning a go!

Mialeentje: for the everyday diva - Lizanne the 'Mamapreneur'; Your blog makes me feel all squishy inside like a frog that's been run over by a dump truck! I love your ability to capture the innocent things in life with such beautiful prose and humor too.

The Monster Apathy - I just found your blog and have already read through one years worth of posts! What can I say, I am an addict to the sarcastic one liners you are able to weave. I bow to your awesomeness as you have truly mastered the art of being funny!

E-loumination - Jacob ; What can I say that hasn't already been said? Funny, charming, sarcastic, deep and thoughtful!  Thanks for keeping it real.

Well, that's it for the award ceremony. Thank you to all the participants!
Jeez, this was one hell of an epic ceremony, see the diapers came in handy after all didn't they?

So save the award that's appropriate to you here and past it on your blog
First time award winners use this one

Second time or more award winners use this one

      









If you feel that your blog deserves an award cause of its awesomeness,
shoot me an email with your link and if it is really creative, artistic, inspiring, or so funny it makes me squirt milk out of my nose, even though I haven't drank milk since like 1999, I will include it in the next awards ceremony!

Score at the end of this game;
'The naked writer': 0
The Spit in your eye and stomp all over your precious inflated ego team: 1

~I surrender to The Writing Womb~

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That Red Bull Made Me Horny With A Karate Chop To The Vag.

What a ridiculous waste of hornyness! In lieu of the fact that it was like a blogger sweat shop in here, zero pay and 16 hour days, treating myself to a Red Bull was the best pick me up I could think of (short of going and scoring some crack). 

Red Bull in Thailand is this bubble-less, thick, limp monstrosity; a cousin to motor oil  and a sister to cocaine.

Back in Canada, it’s $2.99 a can but here it’s like $0.25 a can!!

I tend to choke one  back for those kind of savings. I mean it’s like if I don’t have  a Red Bull, I am actually losing money cause of the awesome savings  of $2.74 each time I fuel up.

It not only gives me energy and makes every orifice quiver with delight but it also MAKES me money.

By my calculations, if I drink 10 Red Bulls a day, I will make (thinks really hard) $274.00 a day!!! I could be a little off on the math there, but not by much. This could be the best job I never had!

The lack of bubbles in the Thai formula seems to create a veritable vortex of intense desire that is directly located in my pelvic region.

The key ingredients are one drop of sweat from Chuck Norris’ nut sack and the tears from a remorseful pimp on steroids after beating one of his bitches that hasn’t paid him his money.

It’s like this drink went into a Roid Rage and took it out on all my naughty parts finishing off with a perfect round house kick to my vagina!

Ah! Who needs a man with a drink like this?

~I surrender to The Writing Womb~

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The EMO Stalker

So, I have a really intense stalker who is screwing up my life and I don’t know how to get rid of him.

He is an EMO.

Not to be confused with Elmo or an Emu…totally different you guys!!
See Elmo is a stuffed toy on Anti Depressants and Crack/Cocaine and the Emu is an Ostrich Impersonator hailing from Australia.

To enlarge any of the pictures just click on them

If you are out of the loop and don’t already know what an Emo is, it’s usually a teenager who is sad all the time and doesn’t feel good enough about him/herself.

OK,  that’s every teenager out there, so what gives?
Well, let me break it down for ya!

Emo Likes:

• 
  
   The depression, The tight black girl pants, The black hair, The androgynous look, The vintage 80’s t-shirts, The hair covering most of the face, The dressing in drag, The black nail polish, The black makeup, The white face, The Converse shoes, The studded belts, The drawings of skulls,  The checkered pattern, The striped pattern, The colours black and white, The Sorrow, The thick framed glasses, The neck ties, The Marilyn Manson, The Wicked Witch of the West, The Uncle Fester, The poetry and The cutting of themselves

Emo Dislikes:

• The fuzzy Bunnies, The Rainbows, The Sunshine, The fresh Air, The day light, The smiling, The Judy Garland, The Babies, The Butterflies, The puppies, The kittens, The Jello, The Happiness, The other colours that aren’t black or white.

Favourite sayings:

• What is the point of life?
• I hate everything.

Ways to use the word:

• ‘Ah! Jeff cried during the new Tim Burton movie, he’s so Emo!’

        Got the picture now?  No?   Here’s one:

Emo graphics comment

Great, everyone on board? Now, let’s move on shall we.

So, based on that description, you may think my stalker is a 16 year old boy  who wears too much makeup and likes to dress in black girly pants.

ARRRRR! Wrong you are!

My personal stalker is an Eternal Misery Ogre

Where ever I go, he's never far behind! The better the day, the more chance of him arriving to sweep me up in his sea of emotional vomit. He’s not really a ‘scary’ Ogre,  just a damned depressing one.

He has all of the attributes of the above mentioned Emo yet there are a few minor differences.

First, his voice: E.M.O. sounds like how David Schwimmer would sound after he’s eaten two bowls of pasta, smoked a joint, taken 4 Xanax,  and watched the static on the television for 22 hours straight.

Upon further inspection, I believe that David Schwimmer may be the head E.M.O.! Isn't the resemblance uncanny?

                                              Thanks for the Schwimmer pic

E.M.O. has sneaky shape shifting abilities. One moment I have my eyes closed happily smelling a beautiful flower, life is good, all is well in my world. The next moment, a tidal wave of outrage and melancholy hits me as I realize it’s not a beautiful flower, just E.M.O. in disguise and he’s all like ‘Hi, Trish! It’s just me again!’

He stalks the happiness right out of me!

I never know when he’s gonna strike. I could be looking at a little Kitty and then go to pet it and wham!!! It’s the fucking E.M.O... he’s got me wrapped in his sad little force field!

These little fuckers are very tricky, so watch your back! They like to turn all the innocent, fun things in life into a gloomy pile of despair .
They usually disguise themselves in the form of Clouds, Flowers, Birds, Bunnies, Babies, Puppies, Kittens and Butterflies.

E.M.O.'s tend to smell BAD! You can tell which people have one following them by how many friends they don't have!
The stench of him is so pungent it’s like the devil takes a dump wherever E.M.O. goes. There's no escaping his soul melting stink.

 Once he’s found you, he’s a Stalker for life. If the force is strong with you, you can keep him at bay with a good Care Bear Stare. Be warned though, that only holds him at bay until your defenses are down.

He never gives up, the most relentless fucker known to man!  He’s like a pestering child that constantly taps you on the shoulder so that you will 'look at what I can do' except even if you look, he will never stop poking you with his sadness.

Since they are dissatisfied with everything, E.M.O. tends to change his identity frequently! I often get informed in writing about these changes.

My E.M.O. has changed his identity at least 12 times that I know of.

When I first met up with him, I knew him as the Edible Misery Onion which turned into the Epic Misery Officer but I liked him best when he was the Enormous Meaty Organ!  I have pictures of him from back in the day.  I will post them later when I can find them.

E.M.O. tends to get all sentimental if he hasn't seen you in a while. So expect snail mail from time to time with poems he writes to you about his 'feelings'.

Can't read the poem? Click the picture!

It doesn't look too hopeful that I will be able to break it off with him (I have been trying to for years ).

So, seeing as he is such a big part of my life, you will likely read more about our adventures together in future posts.

If you have ever had your own personal E.M.O. and successfully terminated the relationship, I would love to hear about it, leave me a comment.

Want your personal E.M.O. to be included in the next story? Send a pic of him / her, a description and your blog addy (so I can give you props) to:

thewritingwomb@hotmail.com

~I surrender to The Writing Womb~

All original artwork is the property of me and is copy written! Thanks!

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The Unfortunate Blow Job Incident

I keep saying that I will share my ‘shady’ past with you guys and I never seem to get around to it.  So, in keeping with the spirit of my intentions for this Blog, I bring to you, a true tale from the vaults of The Naked Writer.

This is pretty graphic, so consider yourself warned! If you are a relative of mine, you probably don’t want to read this one.
Seriously, skip it!

I used to have this thing with gum, it was a love affair of sorts. I could talk, smoke, twirl my tongue ring  and chew gum all at the same time …it really was a fine art that I mastered masterfully!                         

                                         

For years I chewed only Green Spearmint Gum (he was the coolest) but gave him up for the more aesthetically pleasing, White Peppermint Gum (we were much better suited for one another, and he matched the colour of my teeth).  Frankly, I was sick of seeing photos of myself where one side of my smile had that angry Hulk look.   I mean, I  knew  it was gum but other people felt bad for me and what looked like my rotted teeth.

 

My gum and I rarely parted. It was a game, carried over from my childhood,  to see how long I could chew one piece. In my house, as a kid, you had better make your gum last cause who knew when you would get more. One piece could last me a few days hell, maybe even a week.

That gum was my Adult Pacifier, my Blankie, my Safety Net. When I didn’t have something to say, I could rely on Ol’ Faithful for comfort, to distract me from awkward pauses.  Instead of biting my tongue, I just had to bite the gum…much easier! It made uncomfortable silences quite comfortable for me…cause after all, it wasn’t my fault there was silence…I was busy chomping!

Now, as any Gum Connoisseur will tell you , in order to continue recycling it, there are a few important rules.  The most important of all, is to never, ever, ever, chew it immediately after eating peanut butter! For all of you peanut butterly challenged folks out there; this is a deadly combination that kills chewing gum, morphing it into some sort of slimy alien that attaches and bonds itself instantly to anything and everything.

So, one night I disobeyed the rule. I thought I could escape it, I thought it could be different for me, just bend the rules a bit, it’s what I did in life and  I was good at it dammit! It wasn’t a lot of peanut butter I swear! Maybe a cracker or something with a tiny bit on it …no big deal. I downed the cracker and reinserted the gum as Mr. X and I raced upstairs to go fool around. Just to be sure, I tested the gum, it didn’t seem to have a gooier texture, it didn’t stick to my lips, all was well in my world!

Click on the pictures to enlarge

We were making out for a while and in between kisses, I would sneak a couple of inconspicuous chomps as per my usual.  Mr. X sees this and puts out his hand. “Spit it out”

“Nooooooo! I  just put it in”, I whined.

“No you didn't! That was like 4 hours ago, Patricia. I swear, one of these days you will wake up with it in your hair , or all over my sheets or you’ll get it all over me. Fuck! Spit it out!”.  We fought over this often.

“FINE! I have to go to the bathroom anyways so I will just spit it out there”  I lied.

Instead, I tucked the gum in the top right hand side (my fav corner) of my cheek and pretended as though I tossed it.

We resumed our lengthy make out session and he was none the wiser cause I was 007 participating in the covert mission ‘Operation Stealthy Gum’.

Things get all heated, and I end up going down on him.

Now, here’s where things get a little sticky. Previously, I had gotten away with this on many occasions, never a mishap…sometimes a tiny fumble but I always made the recovery, so it had never been a problem  and he was never the wiser.

But, on this particular occasion, I was quite naughty and very giving (more so than my usual) think Ultimate Sword Swallowing Championship and I was playing to win! So in my eagerness to please, I just simply forgot that I had the gum in my mouth!

At some point, I finally came up for a little gulp of air and a quick chomp before heading back down to bring him round the finish mark. Only, there was no chomp cause there was no gum.  ‘But where oh where could my little gum be?’ I wondered.

‘Did I swallow it in my intense oral passions with Mr. X?’

Now, the room was dimly lit so I couldn’t see very well, but it didn’t appear to have fallen out.  No big deal then, all is well in Trish Land right? Arrrrrr (that’s the buzzer that indicates how wrong you are) and I am following that up by the pirate slang ARGH!!! Cause fuck me sideways! As I got closer, all I could see was a glorious erection covered in what looked like white silly string and capped with a hefty looking Hard Hat.

Oh no, oh God this can’t be happening! Mr. X  said this would happen! He predicted this very thing would happen ‘one of these days’ .. but I always told him ‘no way, you underestimate my mad gum wielding skills’.

Shit, this would mean…duh duh duh (that's the intense old scary music sound for you guys that don’t know yet) that I would have to admit that he was right and I was wrong?????

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Say it isn’t so!

I will never admit defeat! I will never surrender!

‘SHIT!  When did I fumble the gum and how the fuck did I get so lost in this Blow Job that I forgot about my Mouth Blankie?’

I panicked, he can’t know. Everything was in slow motion. My eyes wide with fear, I couldn’t think quick enough. ‘I must fix this and recover the fumble’ was all I could think! So, in a suave move to buy some time, I practically knocked out one of his eyes with my boob (all in slow motion of course) as I expertly diverted his gaze from the cold hard truth awaiting him down below.

He thought that I was being kinky,  little did he know, I had only one thing on my mind;  how could I win this? How could I get it off his dick without him knowing? I couldn’t bounce to the kitchen for gum removal aides, that would of be a little obvious.

‘Ummmm well, maybe it’s really not all that bad, after all it’s just one little piece of gum right? I could just continue to go down on him and it will come off with a little extra enthusiasm right?’ ARRRRRR! Wrong again!

Fuck, all I was doing was making it worse! Instead of it all gently rolling back into a the perfect piece of gum, for my future chewing pleasure (as I imagined it would), I was just smearing it around even more.  I tried to buy more time but as I was incapable of doing my signature mouth moves, his body knew something wasn’t right yet his mind was still hoping for something awesome!

But what to do? The c(l)ock was ticking…So, I did the only thing I could think of, I covered my teeth with my lips and tried to peel away each string of gum while making it seem like this was something new that I was trying out on him. I was diligent in my efforts and tried to be thorough but there was no winning this game.

After a minute of doing this, he got super annoyed.
“Trish, what the fuck are you doing?”

I just stared at him with huge sorrowful eyes, and blurted out as fast and as furious as I could;

“FUCK I am so sorry! I didn’t spit out the gum and now it’s all over your dick! Don’t be mad, I was just so into it that I forgot about the gum! Sorry!" I winced and laughed at the same time. He however, did not find the humour in this situation at all.

It took a long, long time to get it off. We used everything, yet some remained even the next day. Apparently, the head of the Penis is a veritable magnet for mutated peanut buttery gum.

The moral of the story? Obviously, I don’t have morals! I just shared a ‘best friends only blow job story’ with strangers on the internet! :o)

PS. Yes, he made me grovel and I swear I had to tell him a million times about how he was right and I was wrong. It was totally humiliating.

Final Score of This Game;
Mr. X: 1  The Naked Writer: 0 

PPS It took me an entire day to animate this story cause of slow firing synapses and shit...so if you like it, hate, or are indifferent to it, leave a comment and let me know!

~I surrender to The Writing Womb~
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Help! Missing for a decade! Have You Seen Him?

From 1989 to 1999, The Tetris Monster spawned a decade of  Night Sweats, Sudden Tick Syndrome, Insomnia and adrenalin related panic attacks, into the hearts and minds of innocent gamers everywhere! 

He was a camouflaged, terrorizing shit disturber that could instantly turn your blood cold and ultimately wreak havoc on your Tetris game. 

 

You may remember him from such times as, when you had the entire bottom half of the screen filled perfectly... just chillin', waiting patiently for Mr. Skinny Piece to arrive so you could clear the area and get super duper bonus points.

A smug, self satisfied, knowing look adorned your face. A look that said 'I am a Tetris Prodigy! My organizational skills are unsurpassed by no one! Everyone should grovel in the wake of my awesomeness, for I am Queen / King of  Tetris Land!'

Horray! Your knight in shining armor finally graces you with his presence.  He's all lined up, excited to be a part of your masterpiece, he double checks his calculations once, twice, three times...he's now set to sacrifice his individuality and complete his mission.

But NO! What's this? Everything suddenly becomes haywire and Mr. Skinny Piece spirals out of control, aborts his mission and plummets to his death in a flaccid horizonal fashion.

Your smugness receeds and is replaced by one of shock and denial that causes you to blame the incident on defective controllers or sketchy opposable thumbs....little did you know, there was in fact, a Tetris Monster lurking in the shadows of your game.

But whatever happened to The Tetris Monster?

After 1999, all traces of this monster have disapeared. Please contact me if you have heard anything.

  

~I surrender to The Writing Womb~
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