I love to read.  I rarely put down a book.  But it happens.  Usually after I realize it was written by a woman.  Sorry, does that make me sexist?  No?  I didn’t think so either.  It’s just that … well in real life women talk too much.  Really.  You do, and in too much detail.  This is where it bleeds into a woman’s  authoring skills.  Just too many thoughts and feelings for me to process and give a shit about.  So much so, that it sort of, well it pisses me off.  Instead of reading why so and so decided why she was going to go the beach at J Street instead of L Street, I’d much rather know her cup size and know that she is going to the beach.  And lets just hope she isn’t fat and ugly.  Which would of course beg the question as to why a guy would write about a fat ugly girl going to the beach in the first place…

So where is this coming from?  Let me tell you.

This morning I am reading Boobsday written in 2007 by Christopher Buckley and on page 66, 4th paragraph, 8th line down, first word is “mainframe”!  Mainframe?  Really?  In 2007, this guy writes a book about a blogger who is using a mainframe?  Holy shit.

Congratulations Chris, I have put down your book and in my opinion, you have joined the ranks of the women writers who can’t write for shit.  You are a pussy and are to be ever refered to as Christina.  You dillhole. [Note –  I decided to read the next few chapters of this book to see if he really meant to say mainframe.  I am giving him the benefit of the doubt, but only because ‘Thank You For Smoking’ was such a great film.]

Glenn

Mark already did the big announcement about the deed. And I’ve been so unfortunately busy in the last month and a half that I’ve barely had time to think. Anyhoo. Here would be some of the photographic evidence that girls do go wild indeed. Just don’t go telling anybody. For the record, I was extremely well behaved and used the sexy little bouncer for all of my stunts.

Ahh, ya gotta love a bunch of Pirate Chicks along with those who come along for the Pirate Chick ride. Ya just do. They never let a special event go by without celebrating with cake and alcohol.

Becky and Natalie decided that come hell or high water there should be a bachelorette party the week before the wedding.

It was a beautiful evening, not too hot, not too cold. We all met up at Hooters for dinner and a drink. It was nice. Our little waitresses were super sweet, although I must say, I honestly thought I’d see more tits and ass. Not that they weren’t precious in their little Hooters gear, they were. But my 14 year old neice has more boobie and butt than these poor girls had.

Meet Ashley and Felicia:

The Hot boneless chicken tenders were tasty as all hell, my lips were nice and tingly for a while though. The girls decided to get me a cute little shirt to commemorate the joyous occassion.

In general, Hooters doesn’t see many bachelorette parties, but they do get hoards of bachelor parties… So, they improvised and got the Bachelor Party Shirt and turned into a Bachelorette Party shirt that all the little girls in tight Hooter’s shirts signed with loves n kisses.

We decided that it was time to continue on and move the festivities to Coyote Joe where Natalie and Holly had decorated and made it look like a scene from a slasher flick with the “Wild Girls- Caution” tape.

They adorned Diva with a princess tiara which boldly stated that I am indeed the Bride to Be… and if there was any question left due to the tiara being hiddeny by my hair which was erect like a hard penis, then the big Bride to Be button aptly placed between my breasts certainly gave it away.

So, we go in and invade the corner lot of CJ, nothing different there.

Olga made a real honest to God rum cake. It was a Jolly Roger, cuz she knows how we pirates roll.

We love the booty, especially rum laced booty.

Precious came and gave me congratulations lovins when she brought the multitude of drinks over.

It was time to have a little fun. We had games on tap, and honestly, watching them set up the Pin the Bow-Tie on the Bachelor was more fun than playing it.

Amanda gave the poster a hard on when she licked it from thigh to belly-button.

And Steph gave our bachelor a nice sized penis to look at…

Onward and upward we go. We had Do the Dare Cards. I mean the name alone implies that there will be some mischief going on. Let the photographic evidence be known!!

I need to state that, I, as the bride to be, didn’t do anything extreme. On the contrary, I was very well behaved. Four of the six cards I drew from the deck were completed by our sweetheart of a bouncer. God bless you, sugar!

Diva’s cards dared her to:

• get the bouncer to laugh for 100 points. Done!
• get a hunk to give her a neck massage. Done!
• get the phone number of a hot guy. Done!
• get a man to show you a hidden tattoo. Done! (It was on his upper thigh)
• get the bartender to give you a free drink. Done!
• find a guy, grab his ass, and tell him he has a nice ass. Done! (Twice!)

(Steph was witness. Two guys, two butts, double points!)

Here are some photos of the festivities! Enjoy!

Shawna found a baldguy & kissed him on top of his head:

Natalie and Amanda took the cake when they talked one of the big biker boys out of his drawers.

So, today marks the day of an ever so joyous event.  Diva’s bachelorette party!!!  Yay!

Well, our beloved Mark is sitting back, and sniveling, because he has a penis, not a vagina.

No penises at Diva’s bachelorette party.  Only people who are proud owners of a vagina are allowed as we will be greatly misbehaved and no males are allowed to be there to witness such naughty things as will be going on tonight. You´ll have your time to have fun, whatever that means for guys. What do they do on a Bachelor party?

In addition to lotsa drinkin, games on tap include:

Pin the bow-tie on the bachelor, Do or dare cards (which promises to be loads of fun since Robyn will do almost anything if dared), and a naughty scavenger hunt.

Details and photographic evidence to follow.

SLOTH.

I went into sloth-remission last year and got into excellent shape.  I lost more than 70 pounds.  I was wearing slutty tight jeans and looking pretty good in them, so I bought new cloths for me and my daughter from the Girls Clothes store online.  I had enough self confidence that I even scared me a time or three.  I was attracting ample attention from the opposite sex.  I wasn’t the fat Pirate anymore.  I blended in well with the other girlies.  I was becoming a certified hottie patoddie. 

Then…  around turkey day… I lost my motivation or ate way to much turkey with dressing and punkin pie or something.  I started eating everything in sight that even looked like it had a carb attached to it.  I quit going to the gym like I was.  My butt went from being touchably firm back to jiggly like a bowl of jello.  Of course, poured into the jeans, nobody could tell.  But I could tell.

I’m still down several sizes from where I started.  Thank God, because I gave all of my fat clothes away and bought new.  They just don’t fit as comfortably as they did.  I find myself having to hold my breath… ALOT! Didn’t take long before I started to get more and more miserable. 

Now here it is summer.  The season I spent the whole of last fall dreaming of, only to wake up and realize… I had failed.  I’m not beach worthy.  I’m not bathing suit worthy. 

I honestly do know what the problem with my motivation is and I am actively working on a resolution to it.  I couldn’t beat ’em, so I joined ’em.

I have quit with the Taco Bell, Papa John’s and Booger King.  I have stopped sneaking into the kitchen and scarfing down a couple cookies here, a few chips there.  And most importantly, I’m not just spending ungodly amounts of money on a gym membership. No longer will it just be an expense sucked out of my bank account.  No. 

I have started doing cardio and group exercize classes again.  I have started eating healthy again.  For my health’s sake.

I had forgotten how good I felt when I was working out and eating right.  It wasn’t just the ability to wear skanky clothes.  It’s more internal than that.  I liked the way I felt.   I had energy. I had attitude. 

So, here I go again.  Wish me luck.  I have a wedding dress to fit into in 2 months and 19 days…

ON DEMAND!!!!   Yes!

 Every so often I get bored and turn on the boob-tube.  As usual, I am sorely disappointed that I pay SATAN (Comcast blog) a hundred bucks or so a month for 197 channels on which there is not a damn thing to watch.

However, there is a slight redeeming quality to my personal hate of beelzebub.  On-Demand!  Yay!

Now where else will one find such an unlimited supply of good stuff?

My joy stems from the fact that I found TubeTime, and this isn’t the first time I’ve experienced such utter happiness.

Today, I found *sniffle, tear* Fantasy Island, my friends!  How could I possibly  resist?  

Well, what other show can take viewers into the past, into the future, into kinky love affairs? 

But wait! That’s not all, folks!  Your host for the journey is a sexy dude, with orange skin, a white leisure suit, and a midget!

Some freaky crap went on there on Fantasy Island…  Scary, sometime criminal things.  You know how warped folks can be when they are fantasizing. Anyhoo, Mr. Rork, lets these demented people have their freaky fantasy (generally with ill results waiting in the wings), only to step in at the last second and save the day!

At the end of the day, all visitors get a lei and fly off on ZEEEplane. 

Wow.  On-Demand!  You’re my hero.