Give Me A Sign

It occurred to me after taking this picture how truly warped my life has become. I was driving to my parents house, my car inching along on Route 93, barely making progress when this sign caught my eye. Without any regard to my personal safety, the safety of those around me and knowing my actions would be most likely rewarded with yelling and creative hand gestures (Boston drivers are notoriously “gesture friendly”), I stopped my car, rolled down the window, stuck my hand out and took this picture. Why, do you ask? Because I just had to share it with you.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

Press 1 For #1, Press 2 for #2

Lately, I have become a raging eco-manic.  I compose and recycle.  I keep the heat turned down to 57 degrees.  I plan my errands so I do as little driving as possible.  And....I recently turned my beautiful dining room into a potting shed so I could grow all my vegetables from seeds.  Now, I have trays of seedlings stacked on every level surface.  It's well over 100 plants now.  Still not sure where I'm going to put them all once they're ready to be planted.  How many tomatoes will be produced from 20 plants........? Hmmmm.  That's alot of salsa.

I've also done my part being eco-friendly in the bedroom.  Remember my post on going green.  I've just ordered one of those solar powered vibrators.  I am shocked at the number of batteries we use.  One of my "tools" takes 6 AA batteries and doesn't last long.  A lot of coin for a few orgasms.

I realize its important to save the planet, save the whales, save the polar bears and all that stuff.  PETA and I might be friends if it wasn't for my love affair with bacon cheeseburgers and my affection for my great-grandmothers vintage coat with a mink collar (I still say she was the one who killed him).

Sometimes people go to extreme.  Take for instance the toilet at the Hot Chocolate Sparrow in Orleans:

(You should have seen the look on a womans face when I walked out, laughing hysterically and holding my phone.)

We no longer have the rule "If' it's yellow let it mellow, if it's brown flush it down"   We now have a specific button for #1 and #2.  Awesome.

Kudoos to the 'Sparrow for being eco-friendly.  I bet that #2 button gets used alot.  It is a coffee house and we know what coffee does!

Don't forget!  I've fixed things on Facebook!  Come and get me!  I post more fun filled facts, naughty tidbits and update through-out the day!  It's better than Farmville, Mafia, that Fishtank thing, and all those other things combined!

Pole Greaser Wanted

Ever since my horrid appearance on Craigslist, I've kept an eye on the postings.  At first, it was to check the site for any mention of my name or blog.  Then, I started reading the postings.  Now, it's escalated to a thrice daily check of the Rants & Raves page for the ultimate in entertainment.

It is amazing the anger, effort and thought people put in to these postings.  Some postings are many paragraphs long and full of venom.  While I can understand the need to vent your furstrations, I cannot understand why people randomly write crap about people they don't know. 

Ironic.  I write random crap for people I don't know.  Most of you I would love to meet.  A few of you....mehh.  We may need to meet in a public place.  I shall employee 5 body guards and you shall talk to me in a walk-talkie.  I love me some fans.  But, a few of you....well, lets just say we'll be good friends on the internet.

I was scrolling through and came across the most interesting post:

Seeking a woman who is a good pole greaser to grease my pole. My pole is hefty and it will be in need of regular greasing to keep it in best of shape, so this could be an ongoing opportunity. This is a non-union, internship position, so there is no pay, but there is good experience, and it will look great on your resume. If you are eager and perform well, I'll make you a star.


The position can be demanding, and you should be ready to work at it for some time. So schedule plenty of time for it. You can take care of my pole at my location or yours. A good job could be rewarded with a fountain of surprises.

Applicants should send their picture and availability, as well as describe the attributes and talents that make them the best qualified pole greaser out there. A love of pole greasing will move you to the front of the line.


The position is open immediately. A tryout could be required.

Although I am an expert pole greaser, sadly, there is only one pole I'm in charge of greasing these days. If an of you can help out this poor man, check out Craigslist.  I hate to see a furstrated lover out there; especially he is such a creative writer.

For All Of You Searching For Me On Facebook

Alright, the Facebook drama will now be brought to a close.  I've received tons and TONS of email complaining they can't find my page on Facebook. I have finally figured out why no one can find me.

I didn't set up the page correctly. Duh to me!

Sooooooo.....here is the link to the new page.  FACEBOOK.  It's also set up (correctly) on the link to the left of the page.

For those of you with amazing Spiderman like computer skills who found me I would be very grateful if you could switch over to the new and improved page.  I will be posting to both pages for the next week or so, just to complete the transfer.

Love and good sex to you all this weekend!

I See The Naughty In EVERYTHING!!

Clearly, I have a problem.  I was looking out my office window, saw this truck and ran out to take a photo for you all.

If you are a faithful reader, I know you have the twisted mind capable of finding the naughty in this photo.  If not, drop me a line at utterlysinful@gmail.com.  I will patiently explain it to you.

Random Wednesday - Tuesday Was Detox Day

I grabbed my husbands crotch the other day and asked him if he got excited.  He say no. But thinking about his new Fender Strat was giving him a chubby.  I have been replaced by a guitar.  That's just fine.  I will replace him with a new toy.  So there.

I once dated a guy who liked the act of a blowjob, but didn't want me to "finish".  From what I've heard, that's suppose to be uncomfortable.

I have read way too many conspiracy theory books.  I'm just finishing up "The Rule of Four".  It's getting to the point where I think I see things in paintings.

Thankfully, after the Great Gray Boob issue from Saturdays sweatasic day at the track,  the undersides of my breast have returned to their normal color.

Don't you hate when you're asked for a nice photo of yourself, you look in your photo library and all you have is pictures of you grabbing your breasts, other peoples breasts or pictures with your fingers in your nose or making some sort of rude gesture?

Have you noticed that balls are always slightly cool? I find it strange. The penis is warm, but the balls have a lower temperature. Of course, this does not pertain to sweaty balls. It's such a brain teaser. I've really been working on that one for awhile. I'm gonna have to Google it.

There is way too much cake, chocolate and other dessert type items in my house right now.  I'm suppose to be detoxing, not deciding if I should have one more sliver of cake or a Lollycake.

Okay, I've gotten to the bottom of the balls issue.  The balls are cool because the sperm have to be kept at a temperature lower then body temp.  I feel strangely unsatisfied with that answer.  I was hoping for something more interesting.

Later, lovers.

Bristol Day 3 - 5 Corndogs, 4 Drivers Wrecked, 3 Pounds Heavier, 2 Overweight Lovers and 1 More Day Left

I am a glutton. A corndog swillin’, pulled pork scarfing, Southern style glutton. I have eaten everything from here to the Bristol Motor Speedway.


Okay, not everything. But, my breakfast/lunch did consist of 2 corndogs (one was a foot long), a “Burger Q” – a pulled pork sandwich topped with coleslaw - and a banana. I know the banana stands out and I think I should get credit for trying to be healthy. I have drunk at least 12 gallons of ice tea or lemonade. It’s EVERYWHERE!

TH ate a gigantic turkey leg

I was sitting next to him, gagging as he ate it. I had already emptied my trough and the sight and smell of that enormous meat stick was totally gross.  The corn dog was not tasting so good as it was traveling back up my throat in the form of a burp.

The weather today wasn’t as warm as yesterday. So, all the fashion victims and Wal-Mart shoppers were bundled up against the cold and damp weather. I was unable to get any shots of any NASCAR fashion. But, the Easter bunny was sitting a few rows down from me.

It takes a very secure man to wear a hat like that.

It was a long, slightly damp race in which none of my favorite drivers did well and a few of them tore their cars to shreds. Of course, the driver who I can’t stand won the race. It’s tragic when you fly 2 ½ hours and spend an obscene amount of money to watch the biggest douchebag in the world win a race. But, if you’re not NASCAR fans, you probably don’t care about that. You’re probably reading this thinking, “What the fuck is she babbling about and when is she going to talk about sex.

Well, lovers, there will be no hot sex tonight. As they say in the sound, "I'm as full as a tick".  We ate at the Chop House again. Remember what happened there yesterday? Well, tonight’s version is a little bit tamer.

The husband decided to go big and order the same thing as last night – gigantic sirloin and mashed potatoes. I was picturing myself naked after last nights filet minion orgy, so I eased back and ordered a small salad with sliced filet on top. Still totally awesome and still brought about a small food orgasm? Shall we call it a foodasm? Anywhoo, I still ate my face off. No asparagus this time. (This morning was sooo stinky). Our waiter, Sean, was a mad man with the ice tea. I would barely take two sips from my glass when another appeared at my elbow. So, I would drink more and more would appear. It was very unnerving and kinda like being pressured. Soon, I’d drunk nearly 6 glasses – these were big bar glasses filled to the brim. We’ve been back to the hotel for an hour and I’ve peed 3 times. For once, I’m spending more time in the bathroom than TH. (He’s in there now, by the way)

Have you every looked at two people – obviously a couple – and wondered how in the world do they have sex. As I was waiting in line for another corndog, I noticed two people sitting at a picnic table having lunch. The woman looked as if she weighed at least 300 pound and was barely 5 feet tall. The guy was at least 6 feet tall and easily weighed 350-400 pounds. How do they have sex???? How is it possible??? This is something I need to find out. I was fascinated. That brain teaser kept me busy for the full 10 minutes I had to wait in line. Then I got my corndog and was distracted with making myself fat.

Have you ever looked at a young guy (18-20 years old) and wanted to tell him if he don’t change his look he will never get laid? There was a kid sitting a few rows down from me. He was wearing a t-shirt with a picture of Scooby Doo, black khaki shorts, and black sneakers with red socks. Totally. HAWT. He was jammin’ to his iPod for most of the race and kept punching his friend in the arm during what I guess must have been a drum solo. I kept waiting for his friend to punch him in the nuts. He then proceeded to play air drums for most of the second half of the race, as he downed beers and ate pork rinds (I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried). I tried to get a picture, but some dudes beer gut kept getting in the way. I wanted to go up to him, yank his earphones out and let him know he’d never get laid if he kept acting and dressing that way. He was an embarrassment to his sex. He was also an embarrassment to the Gods of Rock. Thou shalt not play air drums if thou is dressed like a geek reject.

We fly out of the Redneck Land tomorrow at 1 PM and I will be back – safely – in my home on the sandbar by 7 PM. I’m pretty sure nothing has rubbed off on me and I’ve only gained a few pounds. I will be detoxing heavily on Tuesday.

I'm also trying not to kill TH.  He has gotten that new McDonald's Filet O'Fish commercial jingle stuck in his head and has been singing it for most of the weekend.  He just found the song on his iPhone and has played it twice since we've been back to the hotel room.  Now it's stuck in my head. If he does it again, I'm hiding his iPhone which I have now dubbed his pacifier.  He spends more time on that thing than any teenage girl.  It's prettty pathetic.
 
Speaking of fish, we saw this on a truck in the race track parking lot.
 

 
That rubber fish is suppose to be jumping out of the car window. AWESOME.
 
Oh, and I'm eating cheesecake with caramel sauce right now.  I really time for me to go home.