I highly recommend Megan Hart’s erotica Friends want me to join them on “Goodreads.” I would, but I worry that they’d get scared off by the smut. I read smut. And lots of it. I could varnish the truth and say I read romance, but really, it’s smut. I’m not dog-earing pages in these books…
A respectful deviation on Wingsdomain Art and Photography’s – Quoth the Raven Nevermore Picture, if you will, a raven. Now imagine that raven on the inside of your skull. Imagine that raven has its claws firmly around your eyeballs. Your optic nerves haven’t been severed… yet… but you can actually feel the claws around the…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=alpOkCbt5SU Bollywood. I want to be covered in Bollywood. I want to wallow in its delicious colour and music. I’ve been on the periphery for several years. I saw Bride and Prejudice, Monsoon Wedding and Slumdog Millionaire. I love when So You Think You Can Dance assigns Bollywood as a dance style. But last weekend? …
David bought me a single serving Bodum. I have a freaking French Press. I’m going to start using he word ‘whom’ from now on. Thing is? In its adorably wee and compact single coffee serving sized carafe, it makes a helluva good cup of coffee. I feel so Cosmopolitan. And pretentious. I am prepared to…
Big time. Really a lot. I mean, HOLY CRAP does death suck! You think you’re doing okay until the deathiversary happens. That day bitch slaps you every time. Four years gone and your heart ruptures all over again – an explosion of cardiac tissue splattering your rib cage and spine. You struggle for breath. A…
In the continuing saga of how Heather is a brain-dead bunny… Apparently, I caused my own withdrawal. Because why? Because I am a moron. I mean, seriously. WHAT. THE. FUCK. There should be a picture of me next to the “Do not operate heavy machinery” warning. Last week? When I tried to circumvent the pharmacy…
I don’t know if it was a byproduct of me still jonesing for my angina meds or the couple of glasses of wine I had last night during dinner, but Sweet Bleeding Yoni – Saturday night’s night-sweats were EPIC. Jenn from The IT Crowd during Aunt Irma’s visit I was UP. All night. Every hour…
Last weekend, my Mom and I were discussing periods. You know, in that mother/daughter bonding/commiserative sort of way. We waxed nostalgic about the days we started – she, the first day of high school… I, the evening after I’d been sexually molested by adolescent youths from my mixed softball team… Mom then recounted, in minute…
Okay, seriously? Peri-menopause AND withdrawal symptoms?!? WHAT. THE. FUCK. Just frickin’ shoot me now. Last week, when I went to the pharmacy to refill my angina medication, they told me the scrip was over a year old and that they had to contact the physician to see if he would okay it. Admittedly, the prescription…
I’m taking baby aspirin. In these wee, tiny, little pills – scattered amongst my morning vitamins. They seem so innocent and nothing at all like blood thinners. Recently, when I maybe, just perhaps, gouged compulsively into my inner thigh, digging for a covert ingrown hair (for the love of Eastern Block Estheticians, can we please…