Monday, March 23, 2009

The Champion


It took me five days to get over that fucking flu. Five miserable, snotty, head aching days. And I know that sweaty bastard has to be the one that gave it to me. HAS to be.

So, before I disappeared last week to smother myself with tissues I’d planned on writing about the aforementioned sweaty bastard that most likely gave me the flu. I was a little hesitant about it. At first I though, “Wow…this probably makes me look like a big slut.” So I put it off.

Now that I’ve had plenty of time to think about it, “Who gives a rat’s ass. I have nothing else to write about…and it’s nothing if not, um, entertaining.” I comfort myself with the fact that I’m not really a slut. There are men out there ten times worse than I’ve ever had time to be. Screw the double standard that will likely never die.

That night I went out with my cousin and his fiancé and another girlfriend of mine. We went to dinner and then to a bar in the small downtown district. I’d usually rather sit home and stare at a wall before I’d go to a bar in my town, especially this particular one. I avoid it like the plague. It’s like a high school reunion every time. Ugh. However, my cousin doesn’t like the city night life like I do and he was paying for all of our drinks so I said, “Why the fuck not?”

It actually wasn’t bad. They had a sort of early St. Patty’s thing going. We went upstairs where it was less crowded to play a couple games of pool. Of course I ran into the usual small town school folks that never leave, (I’m still desperately trying NOT to be one of them.) but it wasn’t so bad.

A guy that my cousin knew well was playing at the table next to ours. He graduated a few years before I did, but I knew him from parties, rumors, and the usual small town run-in. He’d recently gotten back from Iraq, which surprised me. He’d been pretty big into drugs last I heard.

Anyway, he came and said hi to everyone and I could tell he was pretty wasted (but probably only slightly more than I was). When he got to me he shouted, “HEEEEYYYY! JIMMY’S DAUGHTER! WHAT’S UP?”

Yet another reason I avoid small town bars. There’s always one…always…that fucking calls me “Jimmy’s daughter”. I cannot stress just how much I hate being referred to as JIMMY’S GODDAMNED DAUGHTER. As if having the man show up to nearly every party for my entire high school career wasn’t enough embarrassment to last a life time. Not to watch out for me, never that. He was either already there and drunk, passing out god knows what, when I arrived or showed up later. Everyone thought he was fantastic of course. No one else’s dad partied as hard or gave out as many free illegal substances as old Jimbo. He’s a legend. It’s been years and he’s still causing me embarrassment merely by name association. Sometimes when they talk about how cool he was I want to tell them, “Yeah, he’s the coolest! I think it’s great that all of you got to snort my college fund up your noses!” I digress.

I sneered at him. “That’s not my fucking name.”

“I know your name, geeze, Ally...chill.”

We all went back to our games. My cousin started buying shots. About an hour and a half later (I’m estimating), I was lit like a Christmas tree. Everything was lovely! The originally offending party was especially lovely with his military muscles and tattoos. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to sleep with him or not. He’d approached my cousin and expressed an interest I was already plainly aware of, even in my drunken state.

The deciding factor that tipped the scales in his favor? He said, “You know, your dad and I were at (somewhere) once (back when I was still in school) talking and he opened up his wallet for something. I saw your picture and I said, ‘I didn’t know she was your daughter. Nice!’, and he said, ‘Stay away from my daughter’. He scared the shit out of me. He doesn’t live here anymore, right?”

I laughed so hard I spit my drink out, barely missing some poor player.

“No, he doesn’t. We’re leaving soon. Are you coming with me?”

That was all she wrote. He left before we did and I made plans to meet him where I’d left my car. HA Jimmy!

Skipping over the majority of the in transit details, I met the other guy and he rode with me to my cousin’s house. During the drive, we were both more sober and had a pretty decent conversation. Nothing to write home about, but he was a little more intelligent than I’d originally thought. We hung out with my cousin and his fiancé for awhile before they went to bed. I took him to the guest room.

I really didn’t want to complain about another sex partner. I didn’t want it to seem like I’m this really hard to satisfy bitch, because I’m not. I just have really, really bad luck. Evidently. So here it goes.

Before I could do anything he had my arms pinned to my sides and was trying to swallow my entire face. I ended up jerking my head side to side so much I’m surprised I didn’t end up with whiplash.

The sex itself wasn’t so bad...at first. Then the sweating started.

Sweat is normal. I understand that, especially given the acrobatics he was pulling out. But his sweating was not normal at all. He started to get slick. I started to get slick. It was fine as long as I stayed on top, but he kept throwing me around all over the place. It started to drip off his forehead and nose and when he pulled me back under him, it started soaking my hair. I was gritting my teeth and trying to decide if it was funny or disgusting when a giant drop fell directly into my eye. INTO MY EYE.

I froze and opened my mouth to say, I’m not exactly sure, but that wasn’t a good idea. I sputtered and coughed and made him get out and go get a towel.

He was apologetic and wiped my face and his. Against my better judgment, activities commenced. That’s when it got weird.

I love talking shit. Love it. It can be quite sexy. Unfortunately, what came out of his mouth was not. I didn’t initiate the talking. He asked me once if I liked it rough. I said yes and he took that as an OK to turn into the Shump Daddy. (Taken from his last name…how clever.)

He started pulling my hair. Ok. Great. Good. Fine.

“…you like that baby?”

“…uh huh…”

(This is gonna get graphic…)

“Whose pussy is it?”

“What?”

“WHOSE PUSSY IS IT?!”

“Um…yours?”

THAT’S RIGHT! Say its Shump Daddy’s pussy!”

“What!?”

He yanked hard on my hair.

“SAY IT’S SHUMP DADDY’S PUSSY!”

I started convulsing on top of him…with laughter. I was biting my lip so hard, but little noises kept coming out, which he took as pleasure.

“SAY IT!”

I choked it out as best as I could, trying to keep from laughing out loud completely which made me shake harder, which made him think I was about to have a melt down.

“DON’T STOP! RIDE IT LIKE A CHAMPION! YOU’RE A FUCKING CHAMPION! A FUCKING CHAMP! CHAMP!”

I lost it. I stopped and doubled up laughing, out loud this time.

“What’s so funny!?”

I couldn’t stop laughing. He was perturbed. He grabbed my hair in one hand and my throat in the other, not really putting any pressure on it, but the intent was clear. I gasped when he pulled my head back. Which meant game on again, I guess.

He got so excited that he flipped me under him again and, pardon my rough and descriptive phrasing, pounded me so hard if I’d been a nail, he’d have hammered me through a whole stack of boards. You know how guys sometimes do that REALLY fast, vibrating, jack hammer thing? Yeah, it was like that. I grabbed a pillow and pressed it over my face, as much to muffle the laughter as to stop my head from jolting off my neck.

That’s probably the worst of it. It turned out to be about a two hour ordeal. I finally had to fake the most dramatic orgasm I’ve ever faked in my life. And I really, truly hate to do that because then they think they’re great and make other women’s lives miserable. But he was crazy. I didn’t really have a choice.

While he went outside to smoke I started cleaning up the room. The sheets were completely soaked with sweat. I mean SOAKED. They could have just come out of a washing machine they were so wet. I took everything to the laundry room and threw it in the washer. Then I went to the bathroom.

I looked like maniac. My hair was wet and matted, mascara all over my face, bruises starting to show up all over. I combed my hair out with my fingers and put it in a ponytail and prepared to get rid of the Shump Daddy.

Thankfully he went kind of quietly. With a parting, “I really pounded you good, huh?”

I couldn’t answer without having hysterics, so I just nodded.

I went directly home (it was 6am by now) and got in the shower.

The guy had to have been on something other than alcohol. I’m guessing cocaine. Of course I had to tell my cousin and his fiancé about it. They thought it was absolutely hilarious and have been calling me ‘The Champion’ ever since.

Lovely.

It’s that asshole’s fault I got the flu. I know it.

Ah well. Another notch, another laugh and I got 2 ½ days plus the weekend off from work. Still, I’ll be avoiding that bar and the Shump Daddy indefinitely.

Tuesday, March 03, 2009

The New 100

Since I started this blog, I've done the 100 list twice. Some things have changed, so I thought I'd get rid of the old...and make a new. There are still a few things on this list that were on the old ones...but for the most part, I think it's new material:


1. I twirl my hair and/or rub the bridge of my nose when I'm nervous.

2. I procrastinate...all the time. Even right this second I'm procrastinating.

3. My car often doubles as a dumpster. I only clean it when it starts to become REALLY offensive.

4. I am habitually late to everything. And I mean EVERYTHING.

5. Most of my embarrassing moments involve nudity.

6. Everyone thinks I'm a horrible driver. I'm not, but I prefer they think I am. I'm not sure why.

7. The only bone I've ever broken was my right, middle toe. If I ever broke something major, I'd probably make a complete ass of myself...crying, screaming, and generally being a big baby.

8. My bestfriend thinks I tell her everything. I don't. Sometimes I'd like to. But I don't.

9. I've mastered the art of reading (and retaining what I've read) while doing just about anything. I'd probably read during boring sex if I could get away with it.

10. Sometimes I chase my 16 year old sister around and attempt to dismember her. I know it's not very dignified or adult, but I do it anyway.

11. I'm generally a very calm person, despite my blogging tirades.

12. I am probably the clumsiest person that ever lived. I trip over paper clips. My poor daughter has inherited my klutz gene.

13. I once blew up a glass baking dish on the stove. I was trying to make rice krispy treats and I thought you were supposed to put the glass dish on the eye of the stove and melt everything in it. BOOM! Glass, marshmallows, and krispies everywhere.

14. I'm addicted to reality TV. Just typing that makes me feel unintelligent.

15. Sometimes when I read a particularly nasty sex scene in a novel, I look around like I'm guilty. Same for watching movies.

16. My room looks like it should be quarantined. My office is as neat as a pin.

17. I only have phone sex while drunk. I think it's embarrassing and could never say things like that over the phone...but I have no problem saying things like that in person.

18. I dance in the shower.

19. I have a cat that drools. His name is Nugget. I named him after marijuana.

20. I love Jack Daniels. I never drink anything other than Jack Daniels unless there is absolutely no choice. That doesn't include shots. You buy them, I'll take them.

21. I daydream daily.

22. If someone throws up in front of me, chances are, I'll be doing it too.

23. Swimming is the only sport I really like to do. Football is the only sport I can actually tolerate watching.

24. I took karate when I was little...until my mother made me quit and take dance lessons. I hated her for that.

25. Occasionally I Google myself and thank god every time nothing shows up.

26. I'm addicted to coffee.

27. I think Starbucks is ridiculous.

28. I'll wear a pair of cute shoes even if they hurt my feet.

29. One of my favorite places in the world is my front porch. I'll sit out there even when it's 20 degrees....and I hate the cold.

30. I have two tattoos. One is the result of winning a bet with my bestfriend(yes winning). The other I got on my birthday while in Oklahoma. Both are stories I never want my daughter to hear.

31. I always considered myself a movie buff. REAL movie buffs always tell me how wrong I am.

32. When someone asks me if I speak Spanish, I always say "a little". And it's true. I know numbers, colors, months, days, and a few choice phrases. Such as, "Where's my monkey" and "I have a big cat in my pants". Why I remember those phrases instead of the more important ones I learned in three years of Spanish is up for debate.

33. I listen to Barry Manilow's Christmas album every year while putting up the tree...and sing like a psycho. It's my secret shame.

34. I referred to Nip/Tuck as my 'soft porn'.....until I saw Secretary with James Spader. Oooh yes.

35. I have extremely poor eyesight. I'm somewhere around negative 5.50.

36. I'm as generous as I am selfish. If that makes any sense...

37. I'm pretty sure that part of the reason I dislike my father so much is because I'm a lot like him...and he's a sorry bastard. I invest a lot of time trying to be as different from him as possible. There are still uncomfortable similarities.

38. I used to hate wearing high heels, until I saw how great they made my legs look.

39. I seem more vain than I actually am.

40. I would like to put the obligatory "once I got so drunk that I _____" story on here...but I can't choose between them all.

41. I once slapped a man in the face during sex. He works with my cousin and I see him and his friends / co-workers frequently. They nicknamed me the 'man beater'. He deserved it, but they didn't want to hear about that part.

42. When I was in high school and always in the middle of drama (like most teenage girls), my mother always told me that one day I would find a true friend that would be with me for the rest of my life. I met her four years ago.

43. Make up, sunglasses, purses, and panties are my top material weaknesses. In that order.

44. I still "secretly" lust after my daughter's father. (I refuse to say baby's daddy.) He's a complete asshole and unfortunately the best lay I've ever had.

45. Go figure: best lay = knocked up.

46. I prefer the summer to any other season.

47. I love living by a lake. I might as well have been born a fish.

48. I actually enjoy going to strip clubs. Sometimes my friends are a little difficult to persuade into going....so I throw out that it's the only place that's still serving alcohol. It usually works.

49. I love to bake. I take out all the ingredients, bowls, measuring utensils, and what have you before doing anything. Everything has to be lined up just so. Directions followed to the letter. It's only one of three things in my life I'm obsessive compulsive about.

50. The other two are showers and my office.

51. I've been a bridesmaid twice. I don't like weddings in general, but I really don't like being in them. The only good thing about a wedding is an open bar.

52. I took a two week trip to Spain years ago and I've been dying to go again ever since.

53. I've always wanted to write a novel. I've attempted several times to get started and scrapped all of them. I'm afraid it will suck and then I'll have nothing left to dream about.

54. I hate when I take my daughter somewhere (read: birthday party, school event, grocery store) and I get into a conversation with another mother and one of the first questions they ask me is, "What does your husband do?" Bitch, please.

55. I will never marry for financial stability. No matter how many jokes I make about it.

56. My family is a true southern family. I sometimes feel out of place.

57. I wear flip flops in the rain and when there is ice on the ground. I know...I'm a freak.

58. I have a problem with pretending bad things aren't real or ignoring them completely. This gets me into a lot of trouble.

59. I had an abortion. I didn't have sex after that for 11 months. When I finally did, I got pregnant with my daughter. I call that "Fate's way of showing me who's boss".

60. Or...it could just be called, "that bastard lied about the vasectomy".

61. My Mother has always told me what a horrible liar I am. I smile and agree with her.

62. My cousin used to make fun of me for being a "nerd" and a "bookworm". Now I make fun of her ignorance. She usually doesn't get it.

63. Some of my family members are pretty racist. That embarrasses me.

64. The first time I did this list, about two years ago, I'd only kissed one girl. Now, I've kissed four and had a threesome. I was only sober during one...and it wasn't the threesome.

65. I hate wearing my glasses. I've been out of contacts for about 3 months.

66. I don't like cartoon character paraphernalia.

67. You know how there are things people say that you'll always remember, even thought you'd really like to forget? I'll never forget my mother saying, "You're going to sleep with him and ruin it." Or my dad, "The best part of you ran down your mother's leg." Classic.

68. My favorite flowers are sunflowers.

69. At 23, I'm on my 5th car. I'm not sure it that's bad or not...

70. I loved the Harry Potter series. Fantasy novels about wizards, dragons, elves, vampires, and such still get mixed in with my more adult reading material. My bestfriend makes fun of me for this.

71.I once got into an intense verbal fight with a 40 year old stranger about make up. We were both off our tits on wine.

72. I once got so stoned on (I'm assuming) a laced blunt, I had hallucinations that my chest was completely open and I could see my own heart and blood was pouring out of my chest. I finally passed out. Sometimes when I smoked after that, I'd have flashbacks and my heart rate would speed up.

73. I love playing pool.

74. I start projects and never follow through with them.

75. I've had just about every kind of pet there is to have. My mother must have been crazy. In a moment of weakness I brought home a guinea pig for my daughter last year. It lasted about 3 months before I freaked out and gave it away.

76. I don't cry at the parts in movies that other people cry at. When I do cry while watching a movie...it's at a really odd part...and other people are like, "what the fuck". It bothers me.

77. Political conversations tend to irritate me. I'm not sure if that's because of my psycho family, since they argue about it all the time...or some other reason.

78. You know the dreams you have when you're falling and you jerk awake really hard? I love those. I'm fascinated by the body's reaction to dreams. I used to sleepwalk, but I haven't in a really long time. I hate that.

79. I've always thought my memory sucked...and it kind of does. Why then, can I remember lyrics to a million songs...even ones I hate?

80. I alternate between spending a ridiculous amount of time on the Internet to going months without getting on at all.

81. Pickles are one of my favorite foods ever. Not the sweet ones (yuck!), the huge Dill ones in the ginormous jars.

82. I am not what I like to call a "No Crust & An Apple Mom". Those moms and I don't mesh. I feel awkward at birthday parties and school events where they all gather and talk about how Little So-and-So is sooooo smart and knows how to tie his shoes now, etc etc etc get a fucking life. I love my daughter, I'm proud of her little accomplishments, and I tell people about them sometimes... but...there's just something about those women that give me the heebie jeebies. I'm just not like them. I'm more like a "Here, Have Some Chips Mom".

83. My Mother says I didn't get the nurturing gene. I just say I didn't get the treat them like they're 3 until they're 20 gene. You say potato....

84. My hair is naturally curly, but I straighten it the majority of the time.

85. I collect books and postcards.

86. I can imitate just about any accent after hearing it once or twice. That's always been useful when making prank calls.

87. I love those Free Credit Report . Com commercials.

88. Too many fire fighters have liked me for it to be a coincidence. I'm wondering if they have some kind of "Wall of Shame"...or fame...however you want to look at it.

89. I usually break the deals I make with myself.

90. The number of men that I've slept with is

91. Really? You thought I'd tell you that?

92. I once got kicked out of Wal-Mart for playing with the intercom system. They no longer have
those little phones out in the open. Well...I say kicked out. It was more like they came toward us all scary-like, and we ran.

93. I've lived in 4 different cities in this state. I've moved about 9 times.

94. I never make a bet unless I'm guaranteed to win.

95. I'm easily frustrated.

96. I once dated an embalmer. It didn't last long at all.

97. One of the reasons that my bestfriend is my bestfriend...is because she says out loud some of the sick, twisted things I'm thinking but can never say. We didn't like each other when we first met.

98. A lot of the time, I feel much older than I actually am.

99. I'm attracted to all sorts of men. One day it's "A Suit", the next day it's a punk rocker covered in tattoos.

100. Sometimes I toy with the idea of making my blog private. I never have.