How To Successfully Stalk Like A Pro, Without Being Creepy, in 10 Easy Steps.

Hey everybody!
OK, so I have been hounded with questions on how is it that I am so Awesome and how is it that I successfully stalk people without being creepy.

These are REAL questions from Real imaginary people in my head!

Let me answer the voices now...

On my Awesomeness; I was born with two extra ‘Awesome’ Chromosomes, only it didn’t give me just any type of Awesomeness, it gave me The Downs Syndrome type of Awesomeness with a side of extra Awesome.
What can I say, when every Doctor I went to said I was one in a million, I knew right then and there just how strong my particular brand of Awesome was.

Bipolar Diva proves my point by actually giving me an extra ‘W’ in this comment…

she knows true talent when she sees it

Now, on how to Stalk people without being creepy:

This is some highly coveted information but through trial and error, I have managed to devise a formula that works 100% of the time from the one person I have tried it out on…with odds like that you will be the best stalker on the Blogosphere in no time.

To show you what I mean, I will use the only example I have to prove my point throughout this ‘How To’ guide. I lucked out the other day when I found a blog written by Naked Cupcakes wait a sec…hold the phone, Cupcakes that are naked AND writing a funny blog??? But isn’t that a little pornographic? Yes it is! So of course, I took affirmative action …let the stalking begin.

There are lots of mistakes you can make as a rookie and nobody likes a one dimensional Stalker so let me give you some tips on how to become the best you can be in just 10 easy steps.

#1     Find A Victim.
Finding a victim is easy just search through blogs and pick the one you resonate the most with.

If you are also looking for someone to stalk you back,  you should be sure to filter carefully and pick someone who seems like their humor is a little off …people who swear a lot or use hilarious depictions of their Uterus as a Purse are perfect examples of a good candidate.

Just remember, Stalkers are like Vampires once you invite them into your house you can never un-invite them, choose wisely.

#2    Check Out Their About Me Section
Click on their profile image or visit their ‘About Me’ section to get their email Addy hassle free. At this stage, also note their favourite movies, songs, or books so you can seem like you have something in common with them later on.

If you can’t find either of these two Stalker Gems, it could be a little trickier to hunt down their information and only experienced Stalkers should proceed. Email me and I can give you more information on this.

#3    Notify Them Of Your Intention
Upon first contact, Introduce yourself and/or notify your potential Victim in writing about your intent to stalk them. This will seem funny to the Victim and more than likely they will not take you to be serious.  This guarantee's your profile will be checked out as you will be labeled 'Quirky' instead of 'Creepy'. 

Remember; If you are Funny, Quirky, or Silly, then people won’t peg you as a Professional Stalker and this makes getting your foot in their virtual cyber door, much easier.

#4    Reassure Them
In the first paragraph of your email, be sure to tell them ‘not to worry’ this always makes people trust you easier. Follow that up with a naughty reference to something shocking or use humor that is similar to the style used in their blog. Be sure to use vulgar language but only if they already use it on their site.

This will ‘hook’ your potential Soul Stalkee and make them need to read more of your email. Also, convincing them that you are not trying to sell them anything seems to work well.

#5    Compliment Them
Now that you have ‘hooked’ their attention, give them a sincere complement and follow that complement with what you actually do when you read their blog but because what you do when you read it is probably creepy, make it seem like it’s a joke.

When I emailed Naked Cupcake,  I really did 'gnaw on my own funny bone until a chunk fell off and then I whittled that chunk into a toothpick to clear away year old teeth debris and the occasional pube'

Of course I did that, but I made her believe that I was joking and I ‘snagged me a Marlin’ with that joke! (If you were a perceptive stalker, you would have just noticed that I used an Austin Powers movie reference which leads us to my next point).

#6    Use Movie Catch Phrases
Always make a reference to a well known movie saying (preferably one of their favourite movies. If you are unsure of a quote from a movie they love, you can always google it to make it look like you love that movie too).

Repeating movie catch phrases says that you are normal cause you know pop culture and if you watch movies then you must be a good person. ***Interesting fact: the more a person uses movie references/titles on their site to get their point across, the higher percentage of them being a wonderful Reciprocal Stalker***

#7    Use Hidden Messages
At this point, change the colour of your lettering to white (or appropriate colour to blend in with the back ground of your email) and include a clause that basically says 'upon responding to this email, in any way, including to say 'stop emailing me', you are hereby agreeing to have me (your name here) Stalk you.  Thank you for your patronage and for choosing (your name here) to be your own personal Professional Stalker.'

#8    An Invitation To Stalk
Change your font colour back to black (or default colour) and invite them to stalk you back. This always makes them laugh and feel safe cause real stalkers would never do that…or would they?

#9    Serious Stalkers Only
Make sure to tell your potential Reciprocal Stalker that you only want the best of the best;  only the ‘Top Gun’ Stalkers should apply.

In your email to them, go into a detailed explanation of what you are looking for so that your guidelines are clear.  After all, being open and honest is the key to any good relationship!

Be warned though, by giving them your information, and inviting them to stalk you, this makes their job a lot easier as they can by-pass stalker steps 1, 2, 8 and sometimes 3. Thus, making it more likely that you will attract some Lazy Spam Stalkers and not a genuine professional such as you deserve.

#9 1/2    Confirmation
Reconfirm your intention to stalk them for the rest of their life. This ensures that they know if they respond back to you, there is no getting rid of you.

This is the equivalent to a legal binding contract in the court of law as you were so obviously clear with your intent. After all, it isn’t your fault the fine print happened to be the same colour as the screen!

#10    Filtering Stalkers
Be sure to add only one piece of your personal stalking information for them (IE only your website). This helps you filter through real Stalkers and Spam Stalkers.

Any ‘Top Gun’ Stalker will be able to get all the rest of your details like your phone number, home mailing address, eye colour, bra size and what colour poo you had this morning, all by themselves.

That’s it, you are done! You will now be considered their ‘friend’ and in no way will this come off as a creepy stalker type of email.

People will think that you are a comic genius, which is the best way to disarm your future Stalkee(s).

Now, if you have done your email properly, it will read something like this:
Right click pictures to enlarge and open in a new tab

Upon sending it to your victim, you can expect this kind of response within 2-4 business days:

Here is a break down of the email, my response to what Naked Cupcakes wrote will be in Red Italics...unless you are colour blind, then it will be in Black Italics:

‘This might be the best e-mail I've ever received.’
(This stalker is good! Here she is very masterly in her reply as she shows me, all at the same time, that I have successfully disarmed her, she accepts my proposal and she is using stalker rule #5 !)

“I'm totally going to respond to it appropriately. My shoulder is jacked, and I'm on some pain meds.”
(You know you are truly successful in your Stalking endeavours when even pain meds and a bad shoulder can’t stop your ‘Stalkee’ from responding back to you…also, notice indirectly how she is still using rule #5 here)

“That being said, your e-mail could be a hallucination. But, if it is, I'm a brilliantly hilarious hallucinator.”
(Wow! Again, nothing but skill here, this is the perfect Triple Axle of rules #3, #4 and #5 …well done!)
Note: be wary of Reciprocal Stalkers who only use, #5.  Although your ego will appreciate it, this can be a Stalker of the lazy kind and that’s not what your looking for in a ‘Top Gun’ Stalker.)

“I am a stalker of the first order.”
(here she assures you of her worthiness and Stalker competency which is very comforting )
“I leave comments longer than my forearm sometimes.”
(she is basically telling you that she will stalk you from the bottom of her heart and she is agreeing to your initial demands that your stalker must be talkative)
“I'm surprised I haven't scared more people.”
(brilliant use of #7 you can’t see it, but trust me it’s there and #9 1/2…this entire paragraph is very well done.)

“You had me at "labia," "
(#2, #6 she got my Jerry McGuire reference and tossed it back at me this shows she could be my Stalker Soul mate by taking an active interest in my movie references)
“and we got married at "labia trimmer." We renewed our vows at "free” “
(wow, this just screams Stalker Love with this incredible Trifecta of #3, #4 and #5 this is truly a winning combination that Naked Cupcakes has perfected!)
“Plus, you're all naked and writey, and your site has "womb" in it, which is awesome”
(pointing out the obvious awesomeness of  someone is a great way to seal the deal and works ‘all of the time, 60% of the time.’)

Excellent! So Upon review, Naked Cupcakes has shown she is a Stalker that really cares.

She masterfully and unknowingly (or so we think) used Stalker Tips #’s 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 and 9 1/2.

This is a most excellent naturally gifted Reciprocal Stalker, a perfect match. I’m going to go ahead and celebrate now that I have found my Stalker Soul Twin!

If you found this article helpful in capturing your perfect mate, send me a shout out and tell me all about it, then we can be BFFSS (Best Friends Forever Stalker Style).

~I surrender to The Writing Womb~

>

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~

>

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~

>

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~
>

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~
>

OMG Make it stop!

I am having a bad day!
First off, the morning challenged me with a tough mathematical equation; ‘Yesterday, a girl woke up at 3pm and had lunch at 9pm…if the same girl wakes up at noon today what time will she eat lunch at?'

Multiple choice BONUS QUESTION;
2 eggs plus 4 ice cubes plus 1 large slab of freezer frost =
A) Breakfast
B) Lunch
C) Dinner
D) You actually have to leave the house today and go grocery shopping

‘Boooo! I don’t wanna go outside!’ I have successfully hid myself away from everyone and everything for like 10 days now! (with the exception of yesterday's Monkey incident; but I didn’t have to leave my house, so that doesn’t count).  It’s a catch 22 thing with me; I don’t want to leave my house (cause of a teeny tiny Agoraphobia issue, that, and the fact that I generally just can’t stand most people) and yet I am bored as hell of sitting around the house trying to write a book that doesn’t want to write itself! I thought being a writer would be like being on a permanent vacation! SIGH!

So, I said to hell with the rules and chose unlisted option E)  Boil the eggs, ration them out for breakfast and lunch and skip dinner so I will be a slimmer me tomorrow. Sounded like a good plan right? Arrrrr (that’s a buzzer sound that indicates how wrong you are for thinking this was a good plan not to be confused with Argh! Which is Pirate slang for ‘fuck’…totally different you guys!).

Sure, I boiled the eggs.  For the third time this week I have tried to unsuccessfully boil fucking eggs! Seriously, no joke, I just don’t get it! I went to various websites that told me all sorts of things that were unsuccessful and I even tried the ol’  poke a hole in the bottom of the egg, which according to some egg Guru is supposed to stop it from exploding (clears throat) ‘LIAR'! ‘You, lady Guru of the egg, are no Guru at all! Maybe your spawn of Satan eggs allow for such culinary success that you claim to have but REAL eggs explode in boiling water!’

This time, however, it wasn’t the Guru’s  fault.  I put the eggs on and forgot about them cause my Bluetooth Wifi crashed and wouldn’t locate my phone which is my modem and my only link to the outside world and the Internet.
OH NO! I panic and think was I safe? Did I use protection? Did some horrendously horrible disease penetrate my computer condom? Is it the Computer Clap? I accuse the computer of being a filthy unprotected Whore who likely turns herself on when I sleep, to floozy around behind MacAfee's back! AH the agony, I am tortured!  

So, I don’t know how long them poor eggs were boiling but let me tell you, it was like they were trying to hatch out of themselves! Remember when you were a kid and there were those toys that grew if you put them in water? You know, it was like a tiny jelly bean looking thing that promised to be a dinosaur or sea horse or whatever and grow 200X its size?

Well, that’s what happened to the eggs! They joined together like some sort of Transformer egg 3 sizes too big and turned into some monstrous gooey disaster that I was afraid to get too close to! I went to go and take a picture so I could show you guys but NO! The battery was dead on my camera and it wouldn’t fucking charge! What the hell kind of Devil day is this turning out to be anyhow?

I toss the eggs into the jungle and think about fasting for the day, instead of going out, but my mouth is watering just looking at that slab of freezer frost.  So, with the most ridiculous amount of effort I have ever had to make, I get dressed, brush my teeth and put on my helmet.

Let the fuckery continue! My Motorbike starts up without a problem and then dies.  It does this again and again and again until finally, it just won’t turn over anymore at all. Hmmm,  full tank of gas …check…serviced recently …check…helmet on…check ’what the hell is the matter with you then?’.

Yes, I call it a Motorbike and not a ‘Scooter’ cause Scooters are those things that old people and the handicapped drive down the side walk on! Plus, I like to think that my 125cc Motorbike is a really awesome Ducati and I am the coolest bad ass for knowing how to drive this dangerous piece of machinery! I even pimped my bike with some crazy dirt bike tires so I look cooler and can fool people from a distance that it’s not a Scooter.

While I was trying to force my bike into submission, huge jungle Mosquitoes smelled my sweet Canadian Bacon-less Blood and sucked me dry leaving huge red itchy welts all over and probably infected me with Dengue Fever!

At this point, I felt like such a huge loser. See, I can be overly sensitive especially when I don’t sleep.  I take things way too personally and have rejection issues, even with the things I own.  First, my brain rejected me, then my Bluetooth connection rejected me, then what little food I had left in the fridge rejected me , and now my motorbike rejected me??? What the hell?  The only thing that hasn’t rejected me today are those damn Dengue having Mosquitoes.

So I sat on that bike feeling embarrassed knowing that my broke assed, nosy neighbours were surely watching me and laughing at my expense (cause they don’t have hydro and I am their only source of entertainment).  I really was expecting one of them to come out from behind a tree, laughing and pointing saying something in Thai that I couldn’t understand but would believe it to be ‘ha ha you a reject and can’t start you bike…such losery!’

So, in a dramatic effort to not look like such a loser I swore all kinds of profanities at the bike as loud as I could so the neighbours would know just how very angry I was and therefore not a loser (cause losers don’t get angry right?) and I stomped up all the stairs back into my house, slammed down my helmet and fumed over the fact that I even made an attempt to leave the house today at all!  GRRRR!

I thought about walking the 10 km’s to and from the store but my feet protested. Well,  I could fill up on toothpaste and ice cubes that could be refreshing. Just then, my fan, the only thing keeping me cool in this sauna of a bungalow, decided to take it’s last breath.  It sputtered and coughed in a real Oscar worthy performance and then….it flat lined! ---------------------

‘FOR REAL????’ I sat there sweating profusely from my eyes…nope those were tears of frustration! Just then, I got a text from a girlfriend I was looking forward to hanging with saying she was bouncing from the country, sorry she didn’t have time for me blah blah blah …’until we meet again’ .

Wah!

The world came crashing down upon my humble abode at that moment!  I reminded myself that I have haven’t slept more than 3 hours a night for 12 days now,  no one cares, everyone back home is so busy with their lives that they don’t send me emails back or call me, no one loves me, I am all alone in a shack in the jungles of Thailand trying to write a book and for what? Can I really handle doing this for another year?

For the first time in a long time, I felt completely lost and cut off from my life as I know it.  I felt like conscious vapour ; highly aware of how invisible I was to the rest of the world.  The sun was shining everywhere except over my head, out of no where, demonic black clouds rained down only on my house, I shit you not! How appropriate I thought! Is there someone with superpowers hacking into my life right now making everything miserable for me? Who did I piss off?

It seemed as though everything I owned and everyone I knew, in some form or another was giving me the ‘thumbs up’ (click here if you don’t get it).

I am now going back to bed to pretend to sleep and maybe that will wipe the slate clean?

BTW: Obviously, I got my Internet back so there’s the silver lining of the day!

~I surrender to The Writing Womb~
>

Vegetarian or Killer of Vegetables?

Hi, my name is Patricia and I am a Vegetable Hating Vegetarian.

I just get so happy when I torture and eventually kill vegetables by refusing to eat them. I mean, look at the picture below don’t I look happy?



Every single time I go grocery shopping, I have a compulsion to buy vegetables I hate, because I think that I should be putting this "healthy stuff" in my diet. Instead, it turns into a sadistic ritual of hunting, gathering and then enslaving these veggies in my refrigerator crisper until they eventually melt into some sort of thick vegetable soup at the bottom of the drawer.

Now, I am a very miserly person so, in theory, that should make me want to eat the veggies before they go bad. I finally acknowledged I had a problem about 2 weeks ago, when I somehow convinced myself, yet again, to buy another bag of lettuce that I knew I wouldn’t eat.



In the first couple of days, I heard  some enthusiastic sales pitches, coming from the crisper.  ‘Hey, look at how crisp and green I am! Don’t you want to eat me before I start to wilt?’ ‘Hey there! Look at how sexy my leaves are, don’t you want to put them in your mouth?’

Now, I like to give my fresh veggies hope, so in the beginning, my reply would always be ‘maybe tomorrow, right now, it’s too much trouble’ and I would slam the drawer shut,  feeling guilty for being wasteful when there are starving people somewhere in the world, covered in horrific clothing from The Gap.

About a week later, the lettuce was starting to get panicked. When I opened the door,  I heard him cry from the crisper “Don’t waste me, please master, let me fulfill my destiny of being eaten so I can evolve in the next life”.

The carrot finally spilled the beans when he said in his deep husky carrot voice “your wasting your breath lettuce! Don’t you know she takes pleasure in letting you rot? I mean look at me, I have been here for a month, I have some sort of blue fuzzy herpes thing growing on my body and strange white twigs growing off of my entire being and she still doesn’t get rid of me! “



“ But if you think I have it bad, look at that poor bastard on the other side of the crisper, rocking back and forth,  now he’s been through some tough shit! You know how he got that bruised head? “



“She beat him! “

“That’s right, he pleaded with her to let him out and she jammed his head in the crisper door and left him there over night. He just hasn’t been the same ever since. It’s like that beating broke his brain and now all he does is just lay there drooling.



“And unless you want to suffer the same fate, I suggest you shut your leafy mouth up!”

I didn’t hear a peep out of the crisper drawer for at least a week. Then this evening, I took a peek to see what was going on in there and they all started to yell at me, they couldn’t take it anymore. I gave some of the vegetables (and one fruit) some hope when I took them out of their clear coffin.

  

Only to sadistically destroy all their hopes when they realized I was just teasing them and using their rotting corpses for a sick little photoshoot, for your viewing pleasure.



After the impromptu photoshoot, I wondered, “Hmmm, whatever shall I do with you guys?”



I took pity on the Dragon fruit and threw him off my balcony to be one with the jungles in Thailand where I currently live. His destiny will be fulfilled tomorrow when the chickens eat him.

“As for the rest of you, if i throw you out now, I will have to take off your packaging to throw you into the jungle and that would require me to touch your gross parts. Sure, I could throw you in the garbage bin but it’s hot and you will rot and stink up my kitchen until the garbage man comes. So, back you go, into your crisper of death, until I remember to check on you again.

Nighty night, just remember, mama loves you!

~ I surrender to The Writing Womb ~.
>