Y’all!!! I done got flirted with today!

No, seriously. I have been out of the flirtation game for a while now, and if you want the truth? Never was very good at flirting. My big “move” back in the day was pizza and a movie and a “will you rub lotion on my back?”

So, random rather panty-droppingly-handsome dude has a dog behavior problem, I offered to help, somehow that led to….well……I received a very nice penis photo, or dick pic, if you will.

Before anyone says, “but wait?! Your beloved? Won’t he be jealous/angry/whatever?” Haha! As soon as the chat turned flirty I contacted my beloved love muffin and said, “hey, I’m getting flirted with – you okay with this before I encourage anything?” He really IS the love of my life. **Dreamy Sigh**

So, as soon as dick pic made an appearance I immediately began doing the investigation. Don’t even lie, y’all do it to: size? (disturbingly impressive); is it level and plumb? (Yep! Could use that impressive tool as a, well, tool!); grooming (beautifully manscaped like he works in porn!); anything weird in the background? (not that I could see). Well, hot damn. What we have here is a rare mythical unicorn indeed – an attractive penis.

I have always considered myself a connoisseur of penises and in my experience, the really oversized dicks tend to be disappointing. No, really. I’m sure there are exceptions out there (at least I hope so!), but the few really obscenely large penises I have seen are usually unveiled by the dude in a rather, “Tah-Dah!” manner and that’s about all the effort they put in.

So, to recap: I got flirted with, it was kinda hot.

Happy Thursday. ūüėć

Advertisements

I hurt my butt.

I did. I hurt my ass. Specifically, I hurt my left assular area and, sadly depressingly to my dismay, I did NOT do it in any sort of fun kinky way.
I slipped and fell pretty hard a couple of weeks ago which apparently enraged a teeny tiny (I know!? A teeny tiny anything in my butt?! I was also excited.) muscle known as the pyriformis. Lil’ Pyri (as I call it) became lonely in his (don’t know why, but Lil’ Pyri feels like a dude) outrage of me slipping in water and landing on him, that he roped my sciatic nerve in to rock out at an ongoing pain party. I attempted to follow the “ignore it and it will go away” plan for the first week which was incredibly successful at being unsuccessful. I’m now actively trying to make it better and it seems to be helping.

Or it was helping until tonight when I was lying here feeling a knot of sharp pain and thinking about how much worse it had gotten.
I complained. I whined. I bitched. Nothing about me bitching, whining, or complaining was helping to relieve the stabbing agony. At the pinnacle of deep pointy pain, I rolled over hoping to find relief and to my wonder, the pain moved.
My first super smart thought was, “huh, that’s odd”. Then I dug around where the pain had moved to and I found this:

No, this is not a kinky sex toy; this is the magnetic vent clip that I leave attached to my phone as a stand. I left the diet coke can in the frame for size reference.

That’s right people, was lying on the point of a phone stand.

Sometimes, my aptitude for ineptitude surprises and impresses even me.

Love,

H.

Happily married, but I’m still me. LOL

So, feelin’ kinda flirty with my husband and figured I would send a naughty text his way. It’s my own fault, I was just sort of texting stream of consciousness and it’s easy to forget that my consciousness is that of an awkward nerd.

My sexy text:

“Kinda wanna climb on top of you and let pieces parts end up places.”

Now, who can resist that kind of dirty talk?!

I’m still laughing.

snot monster

So, a plague-rat has infected me and now I’m dying. To detail that a little better, my friend’s son gave me his cold and now I’ve turned into a disgusting snot-monster who can’t lay down without coughing. Even worse, beloved manly rough and tough husband appears to be coming down with it as well. While he may be the roughest and toughest manly man ever (shut up, he reads this! :P), when he is sick he devolves. When I’m sick I regress  into cave-dwelling-leave-me-alone-but-now-I’m-lonely level of annoying. The two of us sick at the same time = no bueno. He texted me from work asking if we can cancel the viewing of a potential rental house because he feels crappy too. 

Welp. We’re doomed.  I warned him that if we are both sick at the same time he better use the last of his strength to bring home provisions lest we drown in our own mucus. He agreed, here is the list:

1. soup. it’s what we live on now. I recommend getting plenty of it. chicken noodle and split pea sound great to me (uh. not together). 

2. crackers. because we live on them in soup. 

3. diet coke (we’re low)

4. more juice (because I love you and we will fight over the juice if it gets low). 

5. vanilla coke (cause you like it)

6. popsicles. because they help. obviously bomb pops are the best but any port in a storm. 

7. bread (because toast is nummy too)

8. for the love of my schnoz, tissues with lotion please. 

…and now you know what the next couple of days looks like in my life. 

Love ya!

-H. 

It will be a good day…

Or should I say, it will be a good day, dammit.
The Tuesday¬†following a Monday off has always been a rough day;¬†conversely, I have found most Friday the 13ths to be lovely. Anywhoodle, yesterday was a rough day for no real reason, just found it tough. So I woke up today determined for it to be good. I put on a new (kinda sexy) pair of underwear and a comfy pair of jeans to wear to the office. Unfortunately, once I arrived and was walking up the stairs to get to my office I learned that this particular new underwear is a bit too slippery for denim and my pants keep trying to fall (the fuck) off. As I unlocked the office door and stomped my way into the office, holding my bag with one hand and my pants with the other this thought ran through my head, “well, if there is ever going to be a zombie apocalypse it will happen on a day where I can’t keep my pants on.” This thought made me laugh out loud to myself and reminded me that I wanted to write an apocalypse¬†story (book?) where during the first few chapters our¬†rather well-endowed-in-the chestular-area-heroine spends a significant amount of time finding a bra. Why? Because at this point in my life attempting anything physical (running, fighting zombies, etc.) without adequate support sounds torturous and finding a decent bra during a zombie apocalypse seems like something¬†a normal gal would have to do. Sure, she may have to save the world, but first things first – find a bra.

Okay, extremely random thought completed. Wish me luck with my escapee pants.

Love,
-H.

 

Okay, where’s my (damn) tricorder?

AAAAAAAAGH! Okay, let me start out by saying I am not a doctor. I have never played a doctor on tv. In this lifetime, I have absolutely no desire to ever become a doctor.

that doesn’t mean I don’t find medical crap fascinating.

When I was about 30ish I went through moderate medical diagnostic hell trying to figure out what was wrong with my head (shut up, not in the crazy way) because I repeatedly felt like I a nasty sinus infection. Over the course of a year it was determined I had been having migraines which was then found to be triggered by a dying tooth. That damn tooth was an asshole. Once the asshole tooth had been vanquished, no more migraines.

(*sigh* until lately. Yes, I believe I currently have a new tooth vying for biggest asshole tooth title. But that isn’t what this is about because Shut Up! My bottom right side of my teeth are fucking¬†FINE and I will deal with it eventually *sigh* Adulting is fucking hard.)

Anyway, all of that lead in was to tell you the following: my work skype account had a weird advertisement on the top of it for the past few days:

migraine what

Finally, today I couldn’t fight the curiosity (what the hell is a security transdermal patch?, zombie security?, aaaaah, I must know) and I clicked.

And, I should have known – I searched for migraine symptoms last week and now I’m a target for migraine med ads. *sigh* But, being a medical crap nerd, I kept reading. Hmmmm, a transdermal system? kinda cool, so I read the instructions…thigh or arm, okay….make sure white thing is stuck to sticker thing before sticking it on….yep, makes sense. ¬†wait a second? why the fuck are there batteries…? a button? a light? what in the star trekkedy hell is this? ¬†at first I thought – oh, okay, you wear this every day and then push the button when you have a migraine? nope, it only goes on for four hours.

So, I have no clue why a transdermal patch needs batteries and a button, but by golly they got me to look at it so it may be just pure marketing genius combined with some form of ionization of the meds? not quite sure, but it’s pretty fancy.

I have no idea if this stuff works, hopefully I will never ever have to use it. But I do like buttons with lights so if we could work on making that happen with some of my regular meds, that would be cool! thanks!

https://zecuity.com/getting-started-with-zecuity.aspx

Judge Me.

So,  we have a kitten.  His name is Gerald and he is adorable (and pointy). He loves the dogs and is, by all accounts, good to be a great cat. Cute little bastard,  isn’t he?

image

Having a kitten means you have to put their needs ahead of yours and forgive them when they do those adorable little things like draw blood whilst climbing your bare legs or attack your eyebrows because they hadn’t noticed that there were FURRY CATERPILLERS ON YOUR FACE WHICH MUST BE KILLED! But I realized after cleaning up the third destroyed roll of toilet paper that I can live without skin or eyebrows but I will be damned if I’m going to have to live without toilet paper.  So,  with a little help from my teeny tiny screwdriver I have turned my unused towel rod into √úber Toilet Roll Holder.
Now,  I know it isn’t conventionally pretty…. but I love it. Unfortunately, it gave me another idea involving a a label maker and six different brands of toilet paper to determine if there is a superior brand of wiping paper. That project is still in the planning stages.

image

Kisses,
-H.