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!!!!!!!!!!!!

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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!)

Jesse

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”.

Cheech

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

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jojo

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Letter to 16 Year Old Nikki

Dear 16 Year Old Nikki,

Put down the metallic gel pens, stop drawing Nine Inch Nails insignia on your flat-form boots, and for fuck’s sake, stop spelling your name with a backwards ‘N’ and drawing pentagrams over the ‘I’s!

gel pens

Now pay attention. I am future you.

To prove I’m really future Nikki, I know about your sock boobs and “cleavage” fabricated by duct taping your nipples together.

Don’t fret, your real ones come late, but they sure as fuck know how to make an entrance!

No socks, no bra, these are allll you!

No socks, no bra, these are allll you!

Firstly, start doing drugs now while it makes you cool and edgy, and not when you’re 30 and it’s just sad.  One day you’ll have to explain to your nephews that your choice in clothing has no pharmaceutical influence. That you wear a wallet chain attached to your spiked dog collar stone cold sober. That’s gonna be a day drinking, (which you should also start now), kinda day.

Speaking of your goth tastes in fashion, your poetry sucks donkey balls, and nobody thinks you’re deep and profound when you say shit like “I dress like I’m dead on the outside because I’m dead on the inside.” In fact, even other goths wish to slap the sharpie eyebrows off your face. But at least those fishnets stockings you’re inexplicably wearing on your arms will keep your “dead inside” warm. <sarcasm font>.

I’m not here to question your orientation; you honestly think you’re bisexual at the moment, and I respect that.

Howwwwever, I am here to question your thought process:

You find boys and girls attractive, and that’s okay.

You mostly date guys, that’s cool.

Where you lose me is how save for this fucker, when things don’t work out with a guy, you move on immediately, but when your first girlfriend dumped you, Your entire universe imploded.

You sobbed in bed for a month, writing even shittier poetry with those fucking gel pens that run out ink after 3 stanzas, and yet, you somehow drew the conclusion “Good thing I like guys too, because I ain’t ever going through this shit again”?!?! Seriously?! It never crossed your mind there was a reason that breakup was so soul crushing when the others were more like “Whatever. I’m gonna need my Manson CD back.”?

Do you hear yourself?!?! No, you don’t, because you’re a dumb ass 16 year old girl suffering, or more accurately, forcing others to suffer, from a wicked case of special snowflake syndrome.

Ooh, you hate boy bands; you must be so *mysterious* and *not like other girls*. Wow, you’re soooOOOooo *mature*.  Is that a cartilage piercing?! You’re so *hardcore*!!! <sarcasm font>

Bitch, you know damn well underneath those ridonkulous pleather breeches, you have on Winnie the Pooh draws. You not only still watch Winnie the Pooh every Saturday, you cry over every episode! Give me a fucking break!

But speaking of your first girlfriend*, 11 years from now, you will run into her at a dyke bar and realize you didn’t just dodge a bullet; you dodged the entire goddamned NRA! Homegirl’s gonna attempt flirtation by slapping you on the ass and trying to convince you to go cat-fishing at 3 am in the middle of February. That will be the day you finally learn there’s no such thing as “what could’ve been”; there’s only what has been.

Speaking of relationships, your parents set an excellent example of what marriage should be. They genuinely love each other, enjoy each other’s company, and strive for each other’s happiness, thus, you expect the same; to marry young, and skip all this dating bullshit. Not because they’re pressuring you in anyway, but simply because this is what’s normal to you, and us humans like the familiar.

Hate to break it to you, but your parents are freaks of nature and they set you up to fail spectacularly in your expectations of matrimony. Yeah, they married young, and it worked out, but they are the exception to literally every rule ever. There’s no reason to even think about marriage for another 10 years or more.

But because you’re stubborn as fuck, you don’t listen to future Nikki. You get hitched at 23 even though you’re not even pregnant. You’ll have that wedding you keep daydreaming about, just not with your dream spouse.

But take heed, for four years later you will cannonball out of the marriage, and out of the closet, kicking ass and eating pu *ahem* cupcakes. Future you keeps forgetting your mom and grandma read your blog.

Don’t worry about what a “blog” is just yet; it’s not important.

Oh, and those family members whom you can’t *possibly* tell you’re gay won’t give a single flying furry fuck. This is mostly because your husband is a prick and they’ll be relieved you’re leaving him. They wouldn’t question if you announced you’re only dating elephants from now on.

Also great news; you’ve been right since as long as you can remember about not wanting kids, and you remain childfree 🙂 You only become more feminist throughout the years and you keep your last name throughout your goddess forsaken marriage! #FuckPatriarchy (the pound sign will make sense in time.)

You hate politics now because everyone’s whining about where President Clinton puts his wang, but from the time you turn 18, you will not miss a single election. You will educate yourself about the candidates and become politically active, just like those volunteers you cuss out when they call. Karma’s a bitch, shug. Oh, and needless to say, but you’ll be a liberal democrat 🙂

Now let’s talk about career. You have your heart set on becoming a cosmetologist right away, but the timing is not right. You will find yourself behind the chair eventually, but before you can do that, you need to lose your first salon apprenticeship in order to realize you love writing, and when you’re not trying to find words that rhyme with “death” and “castration” , and learn to just be Nikki, others actually enjoy your writing. Real OG Nikki is so funny, even bitches who don’t like her laugh at her jokes!

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

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

On that note, it’ll be another 6 years before you learn “OG” doesn’t stand for “Olive Garden”. It’s not your fault; you don’t have cable and you live in a county where cows outnumber residents, with one stoplight, 1/2 a sidewalk, 87 churches, and 4 last names.

Nothing will ever go your way, no matter what you do, but it doesn’t matter because you’re a bad ass just like your foremothers, and you laugh in the face tragedy before telling it to fuck off.

Sincerely,

32 year old Nikki

*I will NOT disclose her identity; don’t even ask!!! But I will say she went to a different school, so it’s probably not who you think it is.

Fat-Shamer Hell, Part 1, and Brown Rice Risotto

First of all, since two years of writing this blog has yet to make me a billionaire, I’m doing Tarot readings now. I ask for a $10-$20 donation (depending on how far I have to travel) to the HNPHBOT (Help Nikki Pay Her Bills On Time) Foundation. Also, please “like and share” my page on Facebook. Thanks!

Moving right along, I’ve encountered several fat shaming trolls over the past few weeks on various sites, so I’m giving them each their very own spot in fat-shamer hell. This is part one of what is at the moment a three part series, though I have a feeling it may turn into four or five.

A couple of weeks ago, I stumbled upon this gem at the Huff Post titled 22 Things You Should Never Say To A Skinny Person.

Right, I’m sure life is sooooo hard as an underweight, Caucasian, college educated, cis-gender woman, but I digress… and don’t even get me started on that stupid stock photo, WTF? Is the model smelling her finger? Ew.

I felt compelled to offer commentary so I wrote

“Body shaming is never cool, but really, there’s only like five actual complaints on this list reworded to make 22, also, I’ve been on both ends of the spectrum and being fat is waaay worse! Skinny people are not moo’d at while grocery shopping, their health concerns are taken seriously by medical professionals, they don’t have to shop in specialty stores and in general are viewed as attractive and disciplined, so count your blessings”

And then some cunt who calls herself “Thewirah” (WTF?) had to weigh in (spelling and grammar errors left intact):

“I have always noticed that you can’t tell a woman or a man that she/he is overweight but that it’s okay to shame skinny people.”

Lordt, give me strength!

I replied:

“Do you want some french cries to go with your waaah burger? It must be soooooo hard being able to shop anywhere you want, having doctors take you seriously, getting random compliments, etc.. Skinny shaming is not cool, but it’s nowhere near as prevalent as fat shaming. Get a grip, we all have issues.”

To which this twatwaffle responded:

“It doesn’t feel any different. Skinny people probably get more comments than fat people do (because openly shaming fat people is frown upon).”

Jumpin’ Jehovah’s Witnesses and Dale Earnhardt Sr, this cunt is trying my patience! I took a breather and responded:

“No not really, I’ve been on both ends of the spectrum and being skinny is waaay easier than being fat. Magazines don’t run articles on “disguising your skinnyness”, there are no ads for weight gain diets (at least not for women), skinny people who wear skimpy clothing are not told to “cover up”, in general, society feels that fat people don’t have a right to exist and if we *must* exist, the least we can do is cover our disgusting fat bodies and not eat in public.”

But this fuckstick just doesn’t know when she has lost an argument:

“You don’t know what you are talking about. Skinny people get similar reactions when they take their clothes off. At least fat people are seen as hedonistic, not sick.”

Seriously? Is this cunt for real? I’ve had it at this point:

“I’m not going to apologize for having the right to exist nor will I continue to encourage your pity party. I’m going to keep enjoying my life (much to your chagrin) and you can keep reveling in your misery of being a skinny White girl living in a first world country. Bless your heart.”

Then two more “underprivileged” individuals felt the need to offer their insight:

From “Quinfish” (Is there a shortage of usernames?):

“Really? Being told that because of how you look you must be mentally ill isn’t insulting? What about being told that you look like a boy or that you are not a “real woman?” People should not comment on other peoples bodies. Period. If you don’t like it don’t do it to someone else.”

I replied:

“I’d rather be told that I look like a boy than be moo’d at, but body-shaming is never cool, read my previous comments so you don’t miss my whole point this time.”

This douchebaguette at least had the good sense to realize that she just couldn’t match wits with me and left the conversation, unlike Miss “ukelaine”, who wrote:

“That is the whole problem that they DO NOT run articles to help skinny girls and they DO NOT have ads for weight gains for women, we are on our own !!
Look in the Supermarket, Low Fat / No Fat everywhere you go, I love yogart, try finding one that doesn’t say low fat or no fat, I just want a REGULAR yogart !!
There is no stigma to many about commenting on a person being skinny, where as, they may think twice about saying to someone’s FACE that you are too Skinny and need to EAT.”

Wow. My brain is imploding. I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt and offered her some advice:

“I thing part of your problem is that there’s no such thing as “yogart” try looking for “yogurt”. But yeah, there’s a serious shortage of junk foods in this country and fast food restaurants are hard to come by. It’s tough out here for a first world citizen! Good luck!”

But she couldn’t leave well enough alone:

“Yeah, I”m sure my incorrect spelling of one word, will make all the difference to my weight !! LOL”

Huffpost removes comments containing profanity, so I responded the best way I know how:

“Bless your heart”

Again, body shaming is NEVER okay, but I must say, skinny people who feel the need to whine every time someone shares a “Real women have curves” meme on Facebook need to get a grip.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t agree with this sentiment, but let me offer you some perspective.

There are thousands of memes and entire websites dedicated to making fun of fat people, and you’re getting your drawers in a twist over one fucking meme that excludes you?!

You sound about as ignorant as that stupid ginger twatwaffle who sued because she couldn’t get into her dream school.

She got denied by one fucking school and immediately started blaming the “colored folks”.

Part of being a grown up is recognizing your own privilege and if you happen to be a part of the majority 99% of the time, then you don’t have a right to bitch the one fucking time you are left out.

So if your biggest problems as a skinny person are being accused of having an eating disorder and being told to eat, then just be happy that you’ve never been asked by some punk-ass working at Macy’s if you’ve “ever heard of Spanx?” (Yes, that happened to me, and the little bitch even had the audacity to start giving me directions to Nordstroms, as Macy’s didn’t sell them!), waitstaff don’t glare at you when you select fries and tater tots as your two sides (I fucking love potatoes! Your job is to deliver my fried starchy deliciousness, not judge me! That’s a guaranteed tip-deduction, assface!) *cough* galaxydinerincarytownva *couch* *ahem* and chances are, doctors don’t even ask you about your “activity level”, so seriously, GET A FUCKING GRIP!

*Boca burger 🙂

And now the recipe.

I think part of why body-shamers are such bitter dickholes is on account of the lack of sex and carbohydrates in their lives as both of these are proven to increase serotonin levels and low serotonin is the leading cause of douchewafflery.

I can’t help them with the lack of sex in their lives as nobody wants to fuck someone who’s going to spend the entire fuck session calculating calories burned, but I can offer a recipe rich in complex carbs that will boost serotonin thereby making them slightly less insufferable which hopefully will lead to a sexual encounter.

One random thing I miss since going vegan is Olive Garden’s shrimp risotto and this recipe quells my craving magnificently. As I’ve said before, I only publish recipes that are approved by my family of carnivores and this dish is requested at least once a week.

I insist on using brown rice because white rice varieties require standing by the stove and adding broth one cup at a time until it’s all dissolved and constant stirring whereas brown rice is more “set it and forget it”. Also, brown rice is more filling and better for you.

Although this recipe is time consuming, very little of it is hands on and I wouldn’t publish it if it wasn’t worth the effort.

I prefer the combination of mushrooms and peas, but you can use whatever you like and/or have on hand. Asparagus, squash, zucchini, diced tomatoes and spring onions are all tasty add-ins.

Brown Rice Risotto:

2-4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil, coconut oil, Earth Balance or a combination of  these

1 small sweet onion, finely diced

salt and freshly cracked pepper

3-4 cloves garlic, minced

2 tablespoons dry white wine and/or lemon juice (Don’t leave this out! I prefer to use both)

1-2 minced portabello mushrooms (optional)

1 cup brown rice

4 cups vegan broth (I like vegan not-chicken broth, but this can be hard to find, vegetable or mushroom broth work too, just don’t use plain water! You will be sorely disappointed!)

1 cup frozen peas (optional)

1/4 nutritional yeast (optional, but sooooooo tasty!)

more salt and pepper to taste

Heat oil in a large skillet with a lid (I use a paella pan) over medium heat, add onions, mushrooms, (if using) salt, and pepper and saute for five minutes, add garlic and saute for three more minutes, add wine and/or lemon juice and cook until evaporated (about two minutes), add rice and saute for three minutes (adds a toasty flavor), add broth and increase heat to high and bring to a boil, once boiling, reduce heat to low, cover, and simmer for 1 hour, stir in peas and nooch and add more salt and pepper if needed.

Serves 4-6

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