Category Archives: masturbation

Product Endorsement…

I don’t usually do product endorsements. Well, unless I was getting paid for them from places like “Pay Per Post”, may they rest in peace. But this week at the beach, my husband and I discovered something that MUST be shared with all couples. I don’t care if you are gay, straight or into horses…you must try this product.

I’m sure by now you have seen the commercials for KY Yours and Mine brand lubricant. Guy says one bottle does wonders for him. Chick says her bottle does amazing stuff to her. When they combine…you hear something combust, or some fat chick start singing opera. Generally, I don’t give in to television ads. They are usually not the predictors of what I intend to purchase. However, the purple and blue bottles got to me and I simply had to know what was in these bad boys that would make sex so explosive.

Let. Me. Tell. You. Something.

This product must be purchased. The stuff in the blue bottle, for the men? It’s hot. Literally hot. Gets hotter when you breathe on it. (Oh, sure. Like you don’t know how I figured THAT one out.) Now true, it tastes sorta like cough syrup, but for the reaction it gave my hubby, it was worth it. He kinda felt like all the blood rushed to his dick and made it throbbier than usual. Yes, throbbier. I can say that. It’s a CP-ism. Now the purple bottle stuff? The stuff for the woman? Wow. If you ever wondered what it would be like to play with yourself using ICY HOT or Ben Gay, then this is the stuff. It gets REAL frosty cold. I mean, icy! Hotband says it tastes like Spearmint, so that’s a plus for the guys.

So, after all the poking, prodding, diddling and such and of course, after the taste test, we opted to see what these products would be like when combined. After all, this is what they are meant for…the big comb-O. I slathered his blue stuff on him and we doused me in my purple stuff and went for it.

Holy. Good. God.

It was like sitting on an ice cube in front of a fireplace. Things were getting hot that should never be hot and other stuff was getting cold without causing shrinkage and there was just temperature issues all over the place! It caused us to make all sorts of unnatural sounds and howl like wilderbeasts in heat.

The downside? The bottles are small, so they go pretty quick. Hotband and I used half a bottle each in one session (mind you, our “sessions” are rather long and extensive. I wouldn’t recommend this stuff for newbies or quickies.) It has a sticker value of near twenty bucks, but it is soooooooooo worth it. Trust a bitch.

I imagine that the stuff would be good for self-indulgent moments as well…though my husband did mention that the cold stuff made him feel like his dick was frostbitten. Just threw some hot stuff on there and it neutralized him immediately. Just some hot stuff…and a little TLC courtesy of CP. *snicker*

So, if you are looking to shake up the party a little and have some good wholesome fun with lubricants, I would highly suggest KY Yours and Mine as a must have for the nightstand, next to the toys.

This one is for the Guys! (and girls)

The front pockets of your pants. They’re deep, right? Jean pockets. Real long, real deep compared to our girly jeans. I thought it was like that to hold a wallet or keys, since y’all don’t have purses.

No.

Hotband tells me “The pockets are deep so you can do a stick and move.”

“Stick and move? What the hell is that,” I ask.

“It’s when your balls stick to your thigh and you have to move them. Stick and move.”

“Uh huh,” I say, not quite convinced. “So you are going to tell me that everytime I see a man with his hands in his front pockets, it’s for the stick and move?”

“No, some guys genuinely like to have their hands in their pockets.”

“So, how do I know when they are bobblin’ the janglies?”

“If one hand goes into a pocket, you see some frontal activity and then, the hand comes right out of the pocket, you have just witnessed the stick and move.”

“Okay,” I say. “And you are telling me other men know about this manuever?”

“Absolutely. Ask Fab or Avi. They can tell you all about the stick and move. Although I think with Fab…it’s more like a stick and move and move and move and move.”

“That’s gross, babe.”

“It’s a fact, sweetie. The pockets are also like that for the ‘alignment’ like, if your shit ain’t aligned properly, you have to do a little adjustment.”

“Really,” I say, completely fascinated, “what else?”

“Well, there’s the genuine itch. So instead of doing a full out Al Bundy, you just dive into your pockets and go at it. It’s the alignment, the scratch and the stick and move. Check out my pockets babe! They are deep for scrotum penetration!”
I am in awe. Total awe.

So, I am posing a question to my homeboys. Have you heard of the stick and move? Is that really why mens pants pockets are so much deeper than a womans front pockets? Do that many men have balls that stick to their thighs and further, is it so uncomfortable that you have to do the stick and move in public places?

Answer this honestly, or I shall permanently commit my hotband. Do it for him. Do it to support the stick and move. Do it for deep pockets everywhere.

(and for the ladies…check out the new contest at Certifiably Shopping You don’t want to miss it! Free stuff giveaway! Check it out!)

You know it’s going to be a bad day – Next Day Edit!

when you wake up to post on your blog at 5am and Blogger insists that you switch over to their former BETA version. Yes. The fuckers held my blog hostage from 5am until just now, 6 am…to “move” my blog. I had no choice. The whores moved my cheese and I am not a happy bitch right now.

Like I don’t have enough stress.

Let’s see, shall we?

Nursing Boards…tomorrow.
Father in hospital. Great.
Esther calls my daughter, my husband, everyone…except me.

I am still trying to figure out if this is a good thing or not.

I haven’t spoken to my mother since Christmas when she made that big todo about my daughter and verbally abused her. Not a word. Not a phonecall. Nothing. It’s been a month and five days. I have to admit, not talking to her has been very positive in stabilizing my Bipolar Disorder. On the other hand, I miss ragging on her in my blog. I’m sure you do too, because there is nothing better than a good Esther story.

She spoke to my husband last night, telling him about my father being in the hospital. He has bad lungs, breathing issues, etc. Gives him the WHOLE rundown about how she saved his life by making sure he went to the hospital! Oy, the things she has to do! (Wow. What a martyr. Imagine that. Having to take your husband to the hospital when he’s sick. The things you do, Esther. You should be annointed as a saint! Bernard, that is.) During this conversation, which was very loud and obnoxious, (as I could hear her through my husbands skull and straight into the living room…without speaker phone, mind you…) I attempted to count how many times she said “me, myself or I”. I think I lost count at 3247. It’s all about Queen Esther, dontcha know.

My husband, being the slick rick that he is, tried to slip it into the conversation that I was taking my nursing boards tomorrow, in hopes that it would make her want to talk to me. She was like, “Oh, okay, well…call dad tomorrow at the hospital.”

*blink*

No, “good luck”. No “tell her do her best”. Not even, “tell the little cunt that she should go fuck herself and I hope she bombs”. Just…nothing.

Esther can deliver a slap from 1200 miles away via phone. Let’s see y’all do that!

Anyway, on the “Countdown to Disaster” we are at T minus 28 hours and counting til I start the exam that will change my whole entire life and the universe as I know it. (no pressure). I have barely studied in the past 24 hours because all advice is against it. They tell you to spend the two days before the exam just relaxing, doing nice things for yourself and lazing about.

So, with that in mind, I haven’t gotten out of my pajamas, masturbated 3 dozen times to alleviate stress and then, went back to bed…sort of like I do after screwing my husband. No cuddling for me, please and thank you. I am a total guy when it comes to sex.

What does this have to do with nursing boards? Nothing. I just thought you’d like to know.

I will probably be adding edits to this post all day. I am still freaked that New Blogger is holding my old blog hostage. I don’t like the way it looks. I don’t like the way it smells. I don’t like anything about it. I would not like it here or there. I would not like it anywhere. I would not like it in my box, or in a deli with a side of lox. I would not like it in a movie, I do not think this thing is groovy. I would not like it with some cheese, I would not like it on my knees. I do not like this Blogger beta, I thought the other was so much greater.

*bet you didn’t know I could put out some bitch ass rhymes, did ya? I rhymed Beta with Greater. I am off da hizzy, yo! Check out my hook while the DJ revolves it. Ice, Ice Princess…Word to your mutha.*

5PM Update: My father is really sick. Really sick. Hospital sick. Can’t breathe right. Chest pain. Couldn’t even speak on the phone. I don’t care if you don’t pray for me about the nursing exam, just please wish my dad well. I don’t really care about anything else right now. *sighs* I need this right now. Truly.

8pm Selfish Bitch Update: That’s it. I can’t stay in this freakin’ house another second longer. i am getting the hell on up outta this joint. I am going to the freakin’ ass olive garden for a shitass load of breadsticks and salad. I am hoping the roughage clogs my ass up so I don’t have to crap in the middle of my nursing boards. That would suck a helluva lot of ass. Then I am going to see a friggin’ movie with Ben Affleck that is supposed to be so bad, I will regurgitate all the carbs from the breadsticks and neutralize the Ph balance in my stomach. I can’t take this anymore! I am ready to smash my skull with the peen of a hammer. Yeah, that’s right. I said PEEN. You don’t know…look it up, bitches. http://m-w.com. Do I have to hold your hand through life??? Geez. i am so scared for my father right now. Very hard to be the normal bitch/princess person when you are freaking over your father. I am listening to an assload of U2 because A) They rock my world. B) Bono’s voice is the last one I want to hear before I die. C) I have excellent memories from every single one of their songs. D) They rock my world. Did I mention that already? Their music also inspires me to stay caaaaaaaaalm. So does valium. Later.

8:15 Holy Friggin’ Chocolate Batman Update: Can I tell you what just arrived at my door??? Hello??? A HUGE ass box of chocolate from my homegirl, Jane from janelovestarzan.com . Omg. Just in time. I am totally going to consume this in one night! Girl, you are an ANGEL. I had to smack my husband in the snout for trying to worm his Israeli ass into my box! (the chocolate box…not the one he is usually trying to worm into). Love you doll!!!!! *choccie kisses*

1:00 am Why the fuck am I up Update: Ate at the Olive Garden. Suxor. Saw “Smokin’ Aces”. Don’t waste your cash. Have printed out my auth to test, the directions to the test site, made a very mellow relaxing CD to listen to, took my crazy meds, packed up some OJ and fruit…and bring it on. I am ready. I will never be more ready than I am right now. So ready, in fact, that if you touch me, I will implode into a big gaping maw of nursing diagnoses and other random medical spew. I am going to go get laid (the ultimate relaxation…he promised I don’t have to do anything! Woo Hoo!) and get some well needed sleep. It is ON like Donkey Kong, biatches! No more updates. Next time I talk to y’all, I will be losing my mind waiting for 48 hours to pass…to find out if I have passed.

I love you guys. Thanks for all your support.

Special love to my Hotband…forever, for all you do, for all you continue to do, for all you are. There is no me without you. You are my rock. You are my whole world. You are my “miracle”. I love you. You’re my number one fan…and I love being your Little Rock Star! Thank you for being the best husband/father/lover/friend/housewife…*L* You inspire me. You make me want to be the best me I can possibly be. I want to be a mirror image of you. My love, you are sweet, selfless, kind…a diamond without flaw. I am so lucky to have you in my life. You are luckier to be in mine. *snorts*

Come on, you didnt’ seriously think I was going to make it through that without ONE snide remark? Oh, you did? Awwww. That’s so cute!

6:07 AM Who Gets Up This Early Edit – Alrighty. D-day. Test time. I’ve had pregnancy tests that made me more nervous than this one. I am gonna put the smack down on this bitch. Hard, yo. Hard as the hotbands morning wood. And if I don’t pass for some reason…it was because of the computer, not my lack of greatness. That’s my story…and I’m sticking to it.

Peace out, y’all. Wish me LOVE. I don’t need Luck!