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.


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

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








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 Fat, Loud, and Not Going Away

Stolen without permission from Unpacking The 'F' Word

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?!

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:

And look at what you'll be capable of when the timing is right! #OilSlickHair


I'm still feminist as fuck :)

I’m still feminist as fuck 🙂


#NoWaistLine #NoAss #NoFucksToGive

My solution to dad refusing to use "girl soap". #FixedIt

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

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

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



Searches that led to here.

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

Pets with henefits #Punglasses

Pets with henefits

#Doublefisting #DontJudge

#Doublefisting #DontJudge

Privacy? Boundaries? What are those? #NoShame

Privacy? Boundaries? What are those? #NoShame



Because fuck you, that's why

Because fuck you, that’s why.

Cat lady porn

Cat lady porn

Whoever you are, marry me!

Whoever you are, marry me!

It's okay to be jealous.

It’s okay to be jealous.

My birthday :)

My birthday 🙂

:'( :'( #UglyCrying

😥 😥 #UglyCrying

#Halloween #PrinceTribute #purplerain #SexyMotherfucker #DarlingNikki

#Halloween #PrinceTribute #purplerain #SexyMotherfucker #DarlingNikki

#WakeNBake #420 #NoMakeUp #NoFilter

#WakeNBake #420 #NoMakeUp #NoFilter

FYI; both these stores were a profound disappointment

FYI; both these stores were a profound disappointment

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

It was a rough week.

It was a rough week.

Story of my life.

Story of my life.

Vegan rainbow cake.

Vegan rainbow cake.

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

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.

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

Merry Solstice, y'all!

Merry Solstice, y’all!


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 :)

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 🙂

10 Years Later, No Ragrets

I might have mentioned my dickwad ex once or twice, and there’s not much more I can say about him, but since today is our ten year wedding anniversary, and I’ve been suffering from writer’s constipation* for a few days, I’m gonna try.

I’m often asked if there was ever a moment before walking down the aisle when I wanted to turn around and run, and the answer is yes, but not because I didn’t want to go through with it.

I forgot everyone stands up when the bride enters, and I thought there was a fire. Oh, how I wish I was kidding.

Did I ever have second thoughts before the wedding? Not so much. I always knew we weren’t meant to be forever, but I still felt it was meant to be, if that makes any sense. As much as I bitch about his fuckery, I regret nothing. Those four years helped shape me into the bad ass I am now, writing a blog post at 10:30 on a Saturday, in my draws, with a cat in my lap,and eating Cap’n Crunch straight out the box  🙂

Correction; eating grub-kitty brand “Sgt Crisp”. #BitchesBeBroke


Glad *he’s* comfortable.

That awkward moment when you look happier with a cat's ass in your face than sitting next to your newlywed husband.

That awkward moment when you look happier with a cat’s ass in your face than sitting next to your newlywed husband.

I had severe techphobia at the time, so had I taken the advice of literally everyone, and not gone through with it, I never would’ve moved, therefor I never would’ve taken a job at Kohl’s, where I met my BFF, who taught me how to Facebook, and I wouldn’t have taken the job at Hell Spa, which means I never would’ve been fired and scorned and determined to make sure the whole world knew what a bunch of cunts I worked with**, and thus Hummuscidal Maniac wouldn’t exist.

In other words, what sounds like a tragedy; losing my husband and my job in the same year, turned out to be two of the best things to happen to me.

The folks who tried to stop me, AKA, my bridal party, as I was walking down the aisle. Notice my aunt, third from left, struggling to maintain her composure. She was seconds away from murder.

The folks who tried to stop me, AKA, my bridal party, as I was walking down the aisle. Notice my aunt, third from left, struggling to maintain her composure. She was seconds away from murder.

 If only future Nikki could go back and tell Past Nikki that within five years, she’d bust down the closet door, and come out kicking ass and eating pu cupcakes. (I keep forgetting my grandma reads this.) And though she may not have millions of readers, the one letter you get thanking you for talking honestly about your T1D and mental illness, the chubby teenager who thanks you for teaching her she has a right to feel confident, and the exes who hunt you down to apologize for being cunts, lest their fuckery be immortalized on your blog make it all worthwhile.

Actually, if that were possible, Future Nikki wouldn’t be able to get a word in because Past Nikki would want to know what the fuck happened to her long hair?!

Oh, Past Nikki, bless your heart. You haven't even seen the shaved side yet.

Oh, Past Nikki, bless your heart. You haven’t even seen the shaved side yet.

*Writer’s constipation = writer’s block lasting 2 or more days

** Yes, I know I’m vindictive and carry a grudge, but so fucking what? I have ONE flaw, and I more than make up for it in boobs alone, so kindly STFU.

Porn and Puppies

Sorry about the misleading title, but “conclusion of 30 day writing challenge” sounds boring.

You can catch up on my progress here.

Day 29 was technically yesterday, but I had a shitty connection, so I’ll be covering days 29 and 30.

Mom, Grandma, Aunt Tina, and anyone else related to me, Stop. Reading. NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!






30 Day Writing Challenge, Day 29; My 21st Birthday:

The year was 2004, I was fresh out of a three year relationship with this winner, and determined to have my first one night stand. I was pretty sure I was gay, but the only dude I’d ever fucked at the time looked like a troll doll in a trucker hat and had a 2″ swizzlestick, so I wanted to sample something a little more conventionally handsome* before finding a girlfriend.

It should be noted I’d only been drunk three times at this point; once when I was 10 and didn’t realize the punch my aunt brought over was alcoholic, once when I was 11, and pissed off because I felt I was too old to have a babysitter, so I decided to “prove my maturity” by taking shots of rum, (Mom made me go to school hungover as fuck, but I never had a babysitter after that, so I count it as a win.) and once when I was 20 because I was depressed no one showed up at my Halloween party.

In other words, I was/am a lightweight. I can smoke and pop pills all day long, but get a couple drinks in me, and I start crying, calling people, and pulling my boobs out.

Anywho, I started my day by driving to the local convenience store to buy my first 40, and nursed it until it was time to get ready.

I then dressed in a hot pink, bedazzled, tube dress, and accessorized with a pair of shoulder grazing hoop earrings inscribed with “miss thang”, and glittery silver stilettos.

I wish the fashion infractions ended there, but my mom had ordered a spray tan gun from QVC, and with my natural pale olive skin tone as a base, I looked as if I’d been hosed in betadine.

Being natives of Surry/Prince George county, (I claim both depending on what offensive behavior of mine I’m trying to excuse) my friend and I decided to go all out and start our evening at the fanciest joint around; Olive Garden.

It’s a good thing my dress was lycra, because I was taking a break from my low carb diet, and put away about 8 pounds of breadsticks. I also ordered my first liquor drink; a peach bellini. The server was trying to hit on me, so he bought me a second one.

So far I’m up to one 40, and two weak ass chain restaurant drinks, but being a lightweight, my friend had to drag me down off the table where I was break-dancing to that weird elevator music the O.G. loves to blast.

My friend was not yet 21, so we went to an 18+ bar in Richmond called Catch 22. It was every bit as douchetastic as the name implies.

I must pause here to thank Goddess phones didn’t take pictures or video back then. Moving right along, the bouncer announced it was my birthday, so several patrons bought me shots.

The last thing I remember is throwing my ass on a beautiful, bronze Adonis bearing a striking resemblance to Jesse Metcalf, (I LOVED Passions!)


Turns out sugarbreeches bore more of a resemblance to Cheech Marin. Bless his heart. Also, “throwing my ass” was more like “grinding my ass on his junk like I ran out of toilet paper and had to wipe with the empty roll”.


My friend mercifully cock-blocked me and dragged me outside, where apparently, I took my shoes off, and draped myself across a trashcan, exposing my beige spanx for all the world to see.

No dramatic conclusion, that’s how my 21st went.

*Everyone’s coming out experience is different, I believed I was bisexual for several years, and though I had to experience dating dudes to figure it out, that’s not true for everybody, nor is it true bisexual people are “just confused” or “haven’t decided yet”. Also, don’t conflate sexuality with gender identity. I write about my experience as a cis-lesbian, and I don’t presume to speak for anyone but me.

And now Day 30!

30 Day Writing Challenge, Day 30; Something I’m excited for:

Ladies night with my OG PGHS bitches!!! #ClassOf2001



30 Day Writing Challenge, Day 11; Discuss My Current Relationship Situation

Thanks for stopping by! You can catch up on my #30DayWritingChallenge progress here.

30 Day Writing Challenge Day 11; My Current Relationship Situation:

The last time I went on a second date was January 25th, 2006, and I wound up married.

Does my face even need a caption?

Does my face even need a caption?

And all I got from it was endless blog posts and this mark of a genius:

If I don't laugh, I'll cry.

If I don’t laugh, I’ll cry.

The folks who tried to stop me, AKA, my bridal party, as I was walking down the aisle. Notice my aunt, third from left, struggling to maintain her composure. She was seconds away from murder.

The folks who tried to stop me, AKA, my bridal party, as I was walking down the aisle. Notice my aunt, third from left, struggling to maintain her composure. She was seconds away from murder.

I’ve been single for 5 1/2 years now, and though it’s going well, I have to be realistic; I’m pretty, funny, witty, AND I can cook, so my single days are numbered 😦

Given my track record, I’m probably stupid enough to get married again.

Also given that this is this is my longest span of singleness, the Universe is likely brewing an exceptionally psychotic bitch for me. Like a level red-headed Tiffany crazy.

My assignment for y’all, dear readers, is if I meet an untimely ending because Tiffany emptied my inhalers, replaced my insulin with Sprite, or set me on fire in my sleep, see to it that my tombstone reads “STILL a better love story than Twilight“.