National Coming Out Day 2017

As y’all might have noticed, I’ve been on a long ass hiatus. As much as I missed writing, and regret not keeping up for the past 8+ months, I accept that shit happened beyond my control. 2017 has been kicking my taco! Good thing I’m a bad ass 😉

Anywho, back to #NCOD:

I’ve mentioned my coming out story once or twice, but just to reiterate, you do NOT have to come out if you are not comfortable doing so for ANY reason, and it’s NEVER okay to out someone else, no matter how much of an evil fuckersnoodle they are. If they are truly a bad human, there are plenty of other ways to put their shit on blast without vilifying the community.

Moving right along…

I’ve been asked how I knew I was gay several times, but recently I was asked a question I’d never before considered; why did I ever think I liked dudes?

It wasn’t because I was trying to “fit in” (that’s never been my thing) that made me believe I could one day fuck a cis-dude without vomiting. Ironically, it was my effort to be open minded. I remember being asked out by guys and thinking if only they were a girl, but then I’d think well that’s a silly reason not to date someone! So superficial! and accept.

But as it turns out, (“turn out” #gigity) it doesn’t quite work that way. At least not for me.

Though it took dating dudes to figure out I like women, the keyword here is *I*. This is only MY story, so don’t use it to justify your “derrr how do you really know if you’ve never tried it derrr” bullshit. That’s like asking “how do you know urinal cakes taste disgusting if you’ve never licked one?” In other words, if just the thought of something is nauseating, it’s safe to assume it ain’t for you.

Also, don’t use my story to justify your biphobia. Though *I* identified as bisexual in the past, it was because *I* was confused, NOT bisexual people. Bisexuality isn’t a gateway to anything except being bisexual.

TL;DR:

We’re all different. Homo isn’t short for homogenous.

As always, thanks for reading, and feel free to offer feedback in the comments 🙂

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Valentine’s Gift For All Y’all Namby Pamby Bitchwad Dickwits

The number one complaint readers bring to my attention is “why are you always so angry? Why can’t you write about something positive?”

The answer is because most of humanity (I’m using that word loosely here) sucks.

The second most common complaint is “why do you hate on Valentine’s day so much? Is it because you’re single?”

I may have mentioned my disdain for this goddessforsaken holiday once or twice, and I ain’t fittin to reiterate that shit, so the short answer is I hate what mainstream society considers “romance”.

To me, romance is knowing your SO hates flowers, stuffed animals, and jewelry, and would much rather prefer you wash dishes, fold a load of laundry, or scoop the litter box a few days throughout the year, even when it’s not “your turn”.

Or memorizing my Chipotle order, packing me a bowl, starting the coffee pot, just little things that indicate you’ve been paying attention.

But since y’all want me to write about something “positive”, here are ten things I love, in order from least to most:

10 ) That new pussy-friendly bubble bath

9 ) Duct tape

Replace loose sockets?! What, are you made of money? #DuctTape #RedneckRepairs #Redneckognize

No insurance, no ace bandage; No problem! Use on ankle socks so they’ll slide off easier and you won’t have to waste more duct tape when you shower.

Headache? Aspirin’s for liberals and Europeans.
#DuctTape

8 ) Fiscal responsibility in general. There’s nothing sexier than using coupons on a first date. Even if you don’t have your shit together now, it shows you’re planning for the future.

7) Tater tots, wine, hot sauce, and Big Mama’s pickles tied for #7

This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. #Homemade #pickles

6) Cheerwine, diet Dr Pepper, and diet coke, tied for #6

5) Jamberry and nail art in general

4 ) Coffee!!! And bullet journal.

3 ) Cosmetology and writing tied for third.

2 ) Cannabis *ahem* “alternative shrubbery”.

1 ) Family, whether by blood, or by choice, whether two legged or four, feathered or furry, I couldn’t be more blessed with my tribe 🙂

 

 

Unfucking America; The Adult ADD Guide to Social Justice Activism

They say the first step to recovery is recognizing you have a problem, but if you don’t already know that America is fucked, I can’t help you. Tell whoever is reading this to you that this is not suitable for children and to stop feeding you paint chips.

On to step 2:

Accept that change will be a slow, tedious process of trial and error, and remain patient.

I find this difficult because I have a bad habit of “all-or-nothing thinking”, e.g.; If I don’t have time to finish all the loads of laundry, I’ll most likely put it off for another day and buy some $4 leggings en-route to work instead of just starting a small load of necessities.

As silly as it sounds, it’s a vicious cycle (Ha! “cycle”! Get it? Like laundry cycle? *high fives self*) that (have I mentioned my ADD?) I’ve been in cognitive behavioral therapy for two years to break.

This mindset haunts me in every aspect of my life, including social justice activism, but like my shrink said:

“If you don’t feel well enough to clean the house, then commit to cleaning one side table. If one table feels like too much, then commit to cleaning out your pocketbook. If the pocketbook feels overwhelming, then clean out your wallet, but remind yourself it’s always better to do something, no matter how small, than to do nothing”

Translated to activism:

“If you can’t fly, run. If you can’t run, then walk. If you can’t walk, then crawl, but whatever you do, you have to keep moving forward”

-Dr Martin Luther King

Step 3: As a rabid feminist with anger issues and no filter between my brain and mouth, I put fuckboys on blast just for fun; as a white-passing cis-woman, I can be blinded by privilege, and thus cross the fine line between speaking out against oppression, and speaking for the oppressed, so always be willing to listen to criticism from  people with less privilege than you without being defensive.

Stolen without permission from Fat, Loud, and Not Going Away

Stolen without permission from Unpacking The ‘F’ Word

Step 4: Never give up, never be silenced, never keep quiet. You know what they say about well-behaved women? NOTHING! We’ve yet to win a single right by asking nicely. Set fire to the universe until we’re heard!

• There are plenty more ways to advocate for social justice, and I encourage y’all to add them in the comments, but on account of my ADD and inability to math, four steps are all I can manage 🙂
• As always, thanks for reading!

TL;DR version:

 

Wooden Family Christmas Newsletter 2016 and Photo Dump

Merry Solstice, Loved Ones!

It’s been quite the year!

Firstly; please forgive the author for referring to herself in the third person 🙂

Everyone’s favorite Wooden, Nikki, is still well adept at dropping the “F bomb” in any fucking part of a sentence, which is part of her charm;

Fucking Va Beach. #ClassicNikki

still crazy as fuck, (also part of her charm) and still diabetic as fuck, which sucks 😥

But she’s still employed, somehow NOT back in prison, and best of all, NOT remarried, so we’ll count this as a win.

We can all drink to that!

Why is this a thing? Whyyyy?!

Jr continues to bring shame to the family and will never measure up to his stunning, talented, witty, and humble sister, nor will his eyebrows ever be as perfectly sharpied, but he managed to go another successful week of not pooping his breeches, so there’s that. Please keep him in your prayers. Bless his heart.

Jr Jr and Bubba amaze us everyday with how quickly they’re growing and maturing, which can be attributed to the influence of their favorite aunt.

Ma and Pa Wooden will be celebrating 34 years of marriage this March. Being that their favorite child will be turning 34 in July, this goes to show that if you wait until marriage, the Good Lord will bless you with delivery of a healthy 10 lb baby at four months. Only Jezebels suffer 9 month pregnancies 🙂

Grandma Cooke, and Big Mama and Big Daddy Wooden try to downplay how much they love their favorite grandchild and only granddaughter the most, but they ain’t fooling nobody.

Y’all’s truly,

Pumpkin 🙂

And now the 2016 year end photo dump:

#OilSlickHair

I’m still feminist as fuck 🙂

#NoWaistLine #NoAss #NoFucksToGive

My solution to dad refusing to use “girl soap”.
#FixedIt

#JoanDirt

This is why you don’t wear vans to a mudbog. #redneckognize #CountryDykeCanSurvive

Yep.

Searches that led to here. I have no further commentary.

Pets with henefits
#Punglasses

#Doublefisting #DontJudge

Privacy? Boundaries? What are those? #NoShame

#PommyMommy

Because fuck you, that’s why.

Cat lady porn

Whoever you are, marry me!

It’s okay to be jealous.

30 day compilation

My birthday 🙂

😥 😥 #UglyCrying

#Halloween #PrinceTribute #purplerain #SexyMotherfucker #DarlingNikki

#WakeNBake #420 #NoMakeUp #NoFilter

FYI; both these stores were a profound disappointment

In my draws, frosting a cake at 3 am. #HowIRoll

It was a rough week.

Story of my life.

Vegan rainbow cake.

Why are cat paws so cute?! #SQUEEE #CatLadyPorn

The joys of living in Prince George Va.
I have no time for willful ignorance.
Bless their hearts.

Merry Solstice, y’all!

 

Diabetes Awareness Month; My Advice for The Newly Diagnosed Dia-Bad-Asses

Firstly, I started a beauty blog. Check it out and like my page 🙂

November is diabetes awareness month, but between the election, *sob 😥 * *hits wine box* developing shingles, and running on drag time to begin with, I’m kinda late on this

I may have mentioned once or twice how much T1D sucks giant, sweaty donkey balls, but here are a few things I’ve learned since my diagnosis in 1995, a few months before my 12th birthday, that I hope will help my fellow dia-bad-asses 😉

Someone translate this to GED, please and thanks 🙂

1 ) You will be bombarded with demands to “stay positive”. What they’re really saying is “your misfortune is making me uncomfortable”. Optimism doesn’t put the beta cells back, and you don’t owe it to anyone. It’s okay to be angry. Set fire to the world until you’re heard.

2) Strangers will expect you to educate them. Sometimes it’s out of genuine concern, e.g.; “What are the warning signs of hypoglycemia, and what should I do if you faint?” But most of the time it’s sheer nosiness, e.g.; “Durrrr why are you eating fruit if you’re soooOOOooo ‘diabeetused? Derrr” Tell those fuckwads to google that shit.

3 )Be prepared for the “maybe this is a blessing in disguise” cult.

Maybe a turd in the litter box is an almond roca in “disguise”. Only one way to find out…

4 ) Don’t compare yourself to celebrities with T1D. They have access to the best doctors and newest technologies, the rest of us live in the real world, which won’t stop kicking your ass just because you had a severe 3 am hypo and have to be at work at 8 am.

5) Upon hearing about your diagnosis, disturbed subhuman individuals will ask if you’ve seen Steel Magnolias.

Respond “just the first half, how does it end?” and watch them squirm.

6 ) I’ve been told I’m so sarcastic, I have to announce when I’m NOT kidding, so I’m being dead ass serious here:

Representation matters, and The Babysitter’s Club kept me sane through middle school. Claudia Kishi was my first love, but Stacy McGill knew my struggle.

Off subject, but are people really surprised to learn that Ann M. Martin is gay? I mean, am I the only one seeing these outfits?!

As always, thanks for reading, and feel free to contribute to the conversation in the comments 🙂

 

Election 2016 The Fresh President of The White House

I have a hunch my political leanings are fairly clear (*cough*#ImWithHer *ahem*), and if you’re still undecided at this point, ain’t shit I can say or do to help, so let’s put our differences aside for a moment and share a laugh 😀

We all have that Facebook friend we can depend on for hilarity, and this morning’s offering made me spew grapefruit out my nostrils!

This made my day!

Fresh Prince will forever hold a special place in my heart as my introduction into blasphemy:

Big Mama had a coronary when she saw this!

Since I have nothing better to do, (besides voting, of course!) I now present The Fresh President of White House:

Now this is a story all about how

the election got flip-turned upside down,

And I’d like to take a ballot,

just vote right left there 😉

I’ll tell you how I became president and upheld Obamacare

Iiinnn West Park Ridge Illinois,

Born and raised,

Model UN where I spent most of my days

Feministing, debating, ball busting all cool,

and all pushing for adequate funding to the public school,

when a couple Republicans, up to no good,

started campaigning in the neighborhood!

I lost one lousy primary, and my party got scared,

said “why don’t you stick with law, and do something with that hair!”

I worked hard for a chance, and when it came near

I shattered the glass ceiling without any fear

If anything, I can say that this chance is rare,

But Tim and I got this shit,

We make a winning pair!

I. Might. Have lost the election in two thousand and eight,

but this is too important to leave up to fate!

Took a look at white-house, it’ll be a relief

When all the states are called, and I’m the first commandHER in chief!

We all know how great I am at both of these things.

Shingles, migraine, and cramps on top of T1D, depression and anxiety, eyebrows and nails look like shit, still got my ass to the polls (gigity) What’s your excuse?
I just noticed the sticker’s upside down, I’m also a tiny bit medicated.

The Myth of Killing with Kindness and The Assholery Behind The Phrase

As a realist, I’m often accused of being brutally honest for simply telling it like it is, so here’s a squirrel in a sweater to shelter y’all namby-pamby bitch ass optimists from today’s truth bomb since I’m so adept at myth busting:

From Facebook page Squirrels Make Me Happy

Moving right along…

There are only two reasons why anyone would use the phrase “kill them with kindness”;

1 ) Because you’re a coddled prick who’s disconcerted by the concept of being called out on your bullshit, so you demand kindness even when you don’t deserve it.

2 ) You’re a self-important prick who feels entitled to one’s time, attention, and acknowledgement of your glorious presence, so you demand it under the guise of “kindness”, even after the other party has made abundantly clear they’d rather not associate with you.

So what you’re really saying when you offer the ill-conceived tidbit of “just kill your oppressor with kindness” is “Smile while you let that abusive fuckbrained dicksnack walk over you”, and if you’re the one purporting to be killing with kindness, what you’re really doing is forcing yourself on someone who would rather not be bothered with your horse shit.

“But wait! This person was mean to me first, so I’m being kind because it annoys them!”

You have every right to retaliate against an abusive twatwig, but call it what it really is; “killing slowly and painfully with madness-inducing passive-aggressiveness.”

“But this person was a customer at my job, so I have to be nice or I’ll be fired”

I’ve been there, and to a much lesser extent, I’m there now, so I’m not hating on anyone who’s not in a position to fight back. In this case, “killing with kindness” is really “corporate compulsory kindness”, or CCK, and the reason approximately 87% of Colonial Heights residents have been killed by “kindness” in one of my short stories 😉

Stolen from Writing About Writing

#Therapy* *In ADDITION to professional help, NOT a substitute!

 

“But what would Jesus do?”

If Jesus can turn water into wine, then he can turn bullshit into weed and smoke it.

“But if you don’t have anything nice to say, then don’t say anything at all!”

Key phrase here is DON’T SAY ANYTHING, not “If you don’t have anything nice to say, cloy your opponent to the point of projectile vomiting”, not “if you don’t have anything nice to say, make up shit about them and spread it far and wide until you feel vindicated”, not “If you don’t have anything nice to say, spew a bunch of syrupy saccharine glittery unicorn piss until the one you’re blatantly trying to annoy is visibly distressed”, but “If you don’t have anything nice to say, do. Fucking. NOT! Say anything at all”.

In order for kindness to be a virtue, it must be genuine. If you make a point of chirping “good morning” to your surly coworker until they respond because you get off on their irritation, you’re not being kind, you’re being self serving. A kind gesture would be offering to do something to make their day easier, such as starting a pot of coffee or fetching the mail.

If you’ve been blocked on Facebook, so you “like” and comment shit like “looking good! Hope all is well with you!” on the blocker’s tweets and instagram posts, you’re not being kind, you’re being a creepy stalker. You know damn well your behavior is scary. Especially considering it’s just as easy to unfollow and remain friends as it is to block, kindness would be respecting their wish to be left alone. Maybe a single email to offer an apology, but leave the ball in their court and move on.

To truly carry out an act of kindness, it must be done without expectation of recognition, otherwise, it’s most likely assholery disguised as charity.

As always, thanks for reading, and feel free to share any myths you’d like me to bust in an upcoming post 🙂

TL;DR version:

1 ) The phrase “kill them with kindness” is a tool of oppression used to silence victims or insert yourself into the life of someone who’s done with your shit.

2 ) Don’t be a dick.

3 ) You are never obliged to tolerate dickish behavior.

4 ) If you piss me off, and I respond with silence, then you need to thank whomever the fuck you pray to because that means I’m plotting your death in a short story instead of real life.

Spirit Day, Beauty Blogging, and Brambien (Low Calorie Spiced Cider)

Firstly:

a) It’s #SpiritDay, I’m home from work, which means I didn’t bother to draw on my eyebrows, so here’s a pic of my purple nails instead of a selfie:

b) Go like and share my business/beauty blog page, High Femme 420!

I’m trying to get better at blogging with consistency, but ADD, health issues, employment, and life tend to get in the way. I’m also discovering I have an “all or nothing” mindset, and thus a bad habit of over-thinking, over-explaining, and over-editing. If I feel a blog post isn’t hilarious, poignant, awe-inspiring, compelling, inspiring, and all those other big fancy ass words the critics use to convey fondness, I say “fuck it” and pour myself a drink instead.

Since I haven’t posted a recipe in a while either, why not share my favorite “nighty-night”?

Like most creative geniuses, (HA!) I suffer from insomnia and rely on prescription sleep aids, which don’t always work well on their own, so when I see the “warning” label “alcohol may intensify the effects of this medication”, I accept it as a challenge.

Challenge. Accepted.

It should be noted that I’m not a medical professional in any capacity, but if you’re seeking medical advice on a wordpress site, you’re already fucked. Moving right along…

My sleep aid of choice is Ambien, and nighttime drink of choice is this concoction of hot apple cider, cinnamon tea, brandy, and ambien, which I’ve christened “brambien”.

I love hot cider, but it’s loaded with sugar, and as a T1D, I have to watch my carb intake (I have so many health issues, if I was a kitten, my mama would’ve eaten me).

My solution is to cut the cider with strong brewed cinnamon tea. It’s also more economical, which makes this ideal for holiday parties/potlucks, and cinnamon is naturally sweet, so additional sweeteners are usually unnecessary, but feel free to add a pinch of splenda if needed.

This can easily be made as a single serving for those petflix-n-chill nights with the cats, or a crockpot full for parties or especially rough days, just omit the pills if serving to others.

***Brambien***

per serving:

1/2 cup apple cider (usually found in the produce section this time of year)

1/2 hot water

1 cinnamon tea bag (I use celestial seasonings, apple cinnamon)

pills to taste

slice(s) of orange and/or lemon (optional)

fuckton of brandy (optional, but if using, always add just before serving so the alcohol doesn’t evaporate)

For single serving; heat cider and water in a microwave-safe measuring cup for 3 minutes, add teabag and lemon/orange slices if using, and brew for 3-5 minutes, add booze and enjoy over pills.

For a crockpot full (12ish generous servings); in a large soup pot, heat 1/2 gallon cider and 1/2 gallon water on stove top until boiling, dump in crockpot, and add 10 teabags, and lemon/orange slices if using, and allow to brew on low heat, add brandy just before serving.

 

 

National Coming Out Day 2016

First, I just realized I haven’t written in two months, (fucking ADD) so quick update:

I’m launching a beauty blog soon, so check out High Femme 420, invite your friends, and feel free to send me questions!

I’m trying to build my portfolio, so message me if you’d like to be a victim *ahem* model.

And now on to #NationalComingOutDay #2016:

Been there, done that, here, queer, got the t-shirt.

After the shock of discovering my lesbianism wears off, I’m often asked how my family feels about it, and then met with disbelief when I say they don’t care.

Given that my life is a dramedy/sitcom, I understand why folks expect my experience to be shocking and outrageous, but it was rather uneventful.

They were so relieved I was leaving this dickwad, who was preceded by this dickwad, they didn’t give a flying furry fucksock about me dating chicks.

Then my mom got high on Ambien, and while making 3 am phone calls to procure a chicken coop, (don’t ask) took the initiative of informing the rest of the family that Pumpkin’s a lesbian.

And thank Goddess she did! Otherwise, things could’ve been waaAAAaaayyyy awkward!

So today’s message is for the closeted backwoods youth who don’t feel safe coming out yet;

You are in no way obligated to disclose anything for any reason. Whether it’s an issue of safety, not wanting to be treated differently, or you’re simply not ready to make any announcements, your reasons are valid and you deserve respect.

But there will come a glorious day when you’re loudly and proudly out of the closet, and out of fucks to give, and you’re pimpin’ your cute half-shaved asymmetrical haircut and #RainbowHair all up in the dyke bar,

PM me for an appointment 🙂

and you’ll run into that bitch, the bitch who made your life hell in middle school. The one who accused you of flirting with her, (bitch, I’m gay, not blind) and tried to have you beat up. She’ll try to pretend she doesn’t recognize you, oh, but you know she does. You see the terror in her eyes.

Because you were raised right, and you know outing someone is a dicktastic move, you’ll keep it to yourself, but relive the glory every time homegirl posts about how much she loves her doofus husband and bratty ass fuck trophies #soblessed.

As always, thanks for reading, and if you think this is about you, it is 🙂

Diablog Day 7

If I could make the medical profession as a whole understand one thing, it would be that the rest of life doesn’t give a flying furry fuck about your diabetes, as evidenced by the lack of entries between day one and now.

This week has been crazy busy at work, (Not complaining!) I’ve had a weather-induced migraine nearly everyday, Tonya Harding (AKA; my gallbladder) declared war on my stomach AGAIN, I had to take my dog to the vet for a prepuce infection, (i.e.; puppy clap) and my kidney stone(s) has invoked squatters’ rights and thus refuses to vacate the premises.

TL;DR version; This week has been loads of fun!

I’m already multitasking by balancing my glucometer on my lap, taking an injection, and brushing my teeth all during my 30 minute morning piss, (what the babysitter’s club neglected to tell y’all about Stacey is that T1Ds piss A LOT!) so while the task of recording every reading may not seem like a big deal, it’s a pain in the ass, especially when ADHD is thrown in the mix.

Second on the list of things I wish the medical field understood as a whole is that for many of us, our job entails plenty of exercising, so take that into account before you recommend some bullshit like a “brisk walk”. Even under the guise of “exercise reduces stress”, the only way walking “briskly” will reduce my stress is if the walk is to go buy some weed and/or murder.

If I could make the rest of the population understand just one thing, it would be that posting shit like this makes you a cunt:

First thing wrong with this meme is doctors only say this shit to women.

Secondly, if a doctor got up in my grill like that, he’d earn himself an assful of foot.

“I want you to meditate for 20 minutes, twice a day”

I want whoever created this garbage to shove a live porcupine up his ass, but that ain’t gonna happen either.

“Exercise 30 minutes a day”

HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!

“Avoid processed foods”

COOKING is “processing”. Is this fuckwit recommending a raw pork chop will repair my pancreas?

“Eat plenty organic fruit and veg”

Bullshit. Organic=$$$. And as far as T1D, our bodies don’t give a rat’s ass if our carb intake comes from fruit or cookies. 100 calories of banana has the same effect on blood sugar as 100 calories of cake.

Not saying fruits are bad for us, but the message of this shitacular meme is harmful and misleading.

“Spend more time in nature and less indoors”

Nature wants me dead. Fuck that bitch.

“Stop worrying about things you can’t control”

Oh, you mean like a chronic disease? I can stop worrying about glucose checks and insulin? Funny, because I wasn’t worried about diabetes until my diagnosis, yet I still “caught” it.

“Ditch your TV”

Ditch your… mama’s TV.

Sorry, y’all. I’m tired.

“Come back in three weeks”

It’s officially fuck-this-shit-O’clock.

Thanks for reading, and please feel free to share your frustrations with chronic illness in the comments 🙂