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I found this chart on The Frisky a few months ago, and it honestly has changed how I reference men. It use to be “Oh he is so hot”, “Delicious”, etc., but now I can’t help but to scream with giggly joy “HE’S A UNICORN!” And boy when I do hit a unicorn, I keep hitting it. Repeatedly. Yum.

You see, I have hit at least 2  unicorns in my life, and you best believe I have proof. Mr. Soup, and Mr. Nelson. And yes, it really doesn’t get better than that. The first thing that qualifies them is their face. Gorgeous eyes, high cheek bones, and a smile that makes you want to jump him on the spot. Next, we have the body. Incredible genes. Solid, fit, and you know those arms can hold you tight, and hold you up. Three, for me it’s that he was a brain. Yes, you must be intelligent to some degree or I will not fuck you. If you can’t carry on a decent conversation beyond sports, beer, drunken adventures, how hot a girl is, and the size of your dick, I am not interested in becoming a jockey. Luckily, these two men have enough sense to carry on a conversation about something else with me. Four, your team player must be able to make the all-star team. If not, you’re fucked (figuratively of course). Five, have the balls to communicate with me. That’s were Mr. Nelson failed. No communication equals an extremely pissed off Nelson who really doesn’t give a shit how great the sex was.

Moving on.

Mr. Mosquito…He’s an iPhone. Even though it’s common, I’ll still show it off. Doesn’t quite make bragging rights, but it leaves me coming back for more. Just a point that even if you have a small package you can still work it enough to please a lady.

Pig, definitely a banana split. There were too many other issues that got in the way of great sex. Damn it. But it was good while it lasted (for a whole 2 years in case you were wondering).

Mr. Bear, Riding Coach. Not really sure what was so great about that whole relationship.

Mr. Slap, before he got into his slapping motions, he was a mere handheld fan. Something to attempt to keep you cool, but still fails at it pretty epically.

Finally, the Graham Cracker Express…Mr. Turkey Sandwich. We can thank drunken thoughts for this one.


The Torture Known As Christmas.

I managed to escape Christmas morning on vacation day five. I missed the wave of the 12 year old, the 9 year old, and the 1 and a half year old. With a 1130AM wake up, I wobbled outside to check my messages and let the dogs do their thing. It wasn’t as cold as it usually is but it still wasn’t pleasant.

100 and some odd messages later, I came back in to dethaw. I was looking forward to the quiet, afternoon ahead. I misjudged severally. I listened to parents bitch at each other. Kids screaming and crying. So much loud noise and commotion. It was way too much to handle.

I read a magazine or two. Relaxed. Napped. Ate a delicious Christmas dinner. Watch those God forsaken Christmas movies. Honestly, I hate them. Too much just blah. They make me sick and annoy me.

The day should have vastly improved after lunch, but it didn’t. We have a storm front coming through dumping a ton of snow in the area. But it doesn’t snow here. Also, because of this lovely little storm Mr. Nelson went home early to the beach. I didn’t get my beers or my “quality time” with him which disappoints me a great deal. But it’s ok. I don’t expect much out of him anymore. Why should I? I guess the upside to this is that I saved on gas. I can go to sleep early and get a head start on tomorrow. Finally, I got an invite to his house at the beach. I consider that pretty ballin’.

The day was lazy overall, but now we got to go shoot the opossums y’all! No really, we do. There is one outside now about the size of a cat.

A Lot Of Things Change In A Year

I woke up on vacation day four to an empty house. I panicked. For those of you who don’t know I have an unrealistic fear of bring left. If I go to sleep with someone in the bed and wake up alone, I panic. When the house is full of people when I go to sleep and empty when I wake up, I am petrified. When I realize that I’m alone and literally can’t breathe. I choke up, my eyes begin to water, my mind races, and fear overcomes me.

Mr. Greek had gone. He had left home, but he did leave a note. After I calmed down, I decided that I was going to rest until Sunshine had come home. Drifting off to sleep, I was later rewoken by Sunshine milling about in the house. My nerves calmed and by normal senses back, I ventured out of the bed to bond with Sunshine. I soon landed myself back in bed.

Given that it’s Christmas Eve, the girls decided to do Christmas then at 11AM. Picture it. Three 20 some odd year old girls piled up in a full size bed exchanging Christmas gifts. Classy. 1 bag of oreos, a Kesha cd, a Barnes & Noble gift card, some knives, and a candle later Christmas was done. We moved onto sex talk.

We gossiped for a while and eventually tore ourselves away from the moment. I motivated and got ready for the day, Sunshine went to sleep, and the other cousin went back to Ma’s. I eventually followed her up to the house, ate, fiddled on the computer for a bit, and continued to think.

I giggled to myself some when I was thinking about one year ago today. I’m still trying to contain my laughter. One year ago today I was rocking a huge hickey and several other markings from the hands (and mouth) of Mr. Nelson. And to think I didn’t even have sex with them then. Christmas came early last year and it was fucking awesome.

Moving on. I made my way to Ma’s to make the commute to the country house where we spent Christmas. Upon leaving the house I stepped out on a limb and texted Mr. Nelson. 5 minutes later I actually got a response. Kind of shocked me. We had a few causal exchanges and then he dropped the huge elephant in the room.

Mr. Nelson: I see. So what made you decide to get in touch again? Not that I mind. Me: I finally stopped being mad to be honest.
Mr. Nelson: Fair enough.
Me: I know it sounds a bit ridiculous but I realized the other day when someone said your name that I wasn’t mad anymore. And I really didn’t see the point in not talking to you.
Mr. Nelson: Well I’m glad you decided that. So what are you doing up in (this place)?
Me: Ha. Me too. I don’t really have any plans minus christmas lunch tomorrow. Probably gonna be bored to tears. Mr. Nelson: Are we back to normal enough to hang out while we’re both in town? Me: I’d like to think so yes.
Mr. Nelson: I mean I’m not holding any resentment so I’d say yes.

And there we have it. We were once fuck buddies and now we are friends again. My my how things can change in six months to a year. So tomorrow we will be meeting for beers. Wish me luck!

I Earned My Nickname.

Ms. EatsPlentyOfCheeseburgers asked me recently to provide the background for all of my nicknames for people. After thinking about this some more, I think this may benefit a few others as well.

***Warning: If you are a male and you know me, you may not want to read this. (Hint. Hint. Mr. Boxer STOP READING!)***

Angel–Ex-boyfriend’s lady friend. She was such a sweetheart.
Grace Kelly–He got his nickname from Mad TV’s “Can I have your number”
Graham Cracker Express–His first name was graham and it just kinda stuck.
Granny–My hateful grandmother on my mother’s side.
HairSwoop–He has this thing he does with his hair. It’s like the Richmond comb over. We call it the hairswoop. It’s just bad, bad, bad, and he’ll be rocking that hairstyle for the rest of his life. Think a toned back Justin Bieber.
Juliet–Her and her boyfriend, Romeo, are tied together at the hip.
Mr. 8.5–You got this one already. 8.5 inches.
Mr. Bear–He has chest fur, not hair, FUR! It’s that thick. Plus, we think that if he gets on all fours, his ass would be about the size of a bear’s ass.
Mr. Breadstick–We got this lovely little nickname from the lack of what he was packing. It was a thin breadstick. One of the biggest disappointments of my life.
Mr. Delicious—Oh sweet jesusssss!!! He is gorgeous. Enough said.
Mr. Greek–Not exciting. He is from a greek family.
Mr. Mosquito–Once again, lacking in the packing. I believe my exact quote to my cousin that earned him this nickname was “If this doesn’t work out, I won’t be disappointed. I was thinking WTF is that, a mosquito bite on your leg!”
Mr. Nelson–His middle name is Nelson. Also where I got my nickname from.
Mr. NotSoHotItalian–Never been more let down in my life. His background was italian, but nothing about the way he looked was. Sadness.
Mr. Slap–He hit me. Only guy who ever has and he’s lucky he’s not dead.
Mr. Soup–He is so hot but the LAX team tells me he is a soupy, old man ass. GAHHH!
Ms. Granny–This would be another girlfriend of an ex. She was 27 I believe. Not old at all, but her mannerisms were that of grandma, or that of a freshman in high school. Based on the way she dressed, it tipped the scales to call her Ms. Granny versus CrazyBitch.
Ms. INeedACheeseburger–She thin, thin, thinnnnn. One of Spangler’s runners. She needs to eat!
Pig–I have never seen someone eat so much food in my life and stay so thin. He literally ate everything. Leftovers. GONE.
Romeo–See Juliet.
Sunshine–That’d be my cousin.

And for the most recent one that I referenced specifically at the beginning of this post, Mr. Boxer. It’s what it sounds like. He’s a boxer, along with being an athlete in several other sports.

Boys, Boys, Boys. (Notice It’s Not Men, Men, Men.)

I’ll admit it. I must have a replacement man before I move on. If I think all the way back to my first boyfriend, Mr. Slap, I easily progress through the men to this point in my life and I’ve always had one before moving on to the next. For a quick progression, there was Mr. Slap first. We dated for a year. Puppy love, high-school bullshit. First man I loved. First man and only man to hit me (don’t worry I hit him back). First man to cheat on me. First man to break my heart. You get the point. Blinded by love, oh yes sweets I was!

After that nightmare of a relationship ended, I went off to a senior military college and fell for one of my corporals. He was a year ahead of me in school and I saw him every day of my life. He made it hell, but I was damned and determined to impress him. Which, by the way, I did. Grace Kelly and I are still friends to this day. More to come on Grace.

After Grace Kelly, I moved on to Mr. NotSoHotItalian. My first boyfriend since my first serious relationship. Yeah, he was a rebound, and I knew it. He didn’t. Dropped the L bomb after a month of dating. I panicked and ran into the arms of Pig. Oh, the pig. Pig became my second serious relationship.  I loved him with everything that I had for two years. Unfortunately, things didn’t work out. We realized that we didn’t need each other in the same ways as before. I do still love him for the record, and I truly do wish him the best. But as I said, we ended, and I snuggled down with Mr. Bear for round one of our notorious relationship. The I hopped on the Graham Cracker Express. Choo Choo! No, literally, I hopped on it and right into bed. Clearly, that ended. Then I bounced right back like the jack rabbit that I am to Mr. Bear for round two. Once again, not a very bright choice.

After Mr. Bear broke my heart (serious relationship number three for the record), I scooted my way right next door to Mr. 8.5. Yeah, everybody remember him…and the size of his wood.  After I was done being gagged by Mr. 8.5, I causally slipped on over to Mr. Breadstick. A serious down grade in the food chain, if I might add. Though I never shagged him, he sure had a hold on me. He broke my heart. Stomped all over it a few days before Christmas, but not to worry. I quickly skipped my way on over to Mr. Nelson (hence where I got my nickname from). After Mr. Nelson and I had our session in the back of his Jeep, and a few other places, I drove myself to Mr. Mosquito. Oh, how I feel about him cannot be put into words (both good and bad). But even as we are attempting to figure out life, I still have Mr. Greek in my back pocket, and I do adore him. He give me what I deserve and treats me well. I just can’t make up my mind about making the jump into a relationship.

Do you see my point? I’m all over the place (as usual). Oh what I am to do with my life?! Easy, stop looking for love. Be myself first! Never settle. BE FREE.

**This of course all inspired by Confessions of a Love Addict. Thank you!**

One of my best friends, R is having a hard time getting over her ex-boyfriend. For the sake of this blog, we’ll call him Mr. Bail. I was a big fan of Mr. Bail when R and him started dating. He was so incredibly in love with her, always supportive, and he broke her out of this protective shell she kept herself in. Generally speaking, even though he’s younger than me, he’s an attractive guy and most importantly, R was very happy and as long as she’ … Read More

via Confessions of a Love Addict