Posted by: justmiss | April 22, 2009

What would happen

So it seems that this guest posting thing has taken a life of its own. I’m getting stuff from people I adore and it’s stuff that some don’t feel comfortable sharing on their own blog. And I get that. And I adore it. Obviously this place is anything goes and I am so very much ok with that.

Today’s post comes from a very dear friend who has also asked to stay anonymous. I respect that for many reasons. She’s being real, she’s backing her words, but she also respects the fact that people can get hurt in these situations. If you read here often, you know that I have been here with her and I believe in ownership. Believe me, if done right, you can get in and out of these situations alive. I’m living proof.


 To be honest, when Miss asked me to guest post, I was scared shitless.  Of course, I was excited.  But mostly panicky.  Because the bar over here is set pretty high.  My little corner of the internet is located in that hard to clean spot behind the toilet.  But here, everything is pretty and shiny.  I didn’t want to mess it up.  So I waited for a few of the other guest posters to come through, hoping that I’d then have some idea what to talk about.  Actually, I was hoping that they would lead me off on a rabbit trail, so that I could avoid going where I need to go.  But instead, the previous posts inspired me to be pretty fucking honest.  (Well, as honest as one can be while still hiding inside of the computer.)  


So here goes… How I Hear It, Special Guest Blogger Edition



I stand there, waiting for you, but I want to run away.  It’s been such a long time.  Back then, I was younger, prettier, thinner.  That’s how I want you to remember me.  Because I’m no longer that beautiful girl that you said you’ve thought about for all these years.  My phone rings.  I’m so scared you’re calling to tell me you’ve changed your mind.  Instead, I hear a smile in your voice as you say, “I see you.  And my god… you’re still gorgeous.”  It makes me want to cry.   


Electricity, eye to eye
Hey don’t I know you
I can’t speak


My heart is pounding.  I can’t breathe, the anxiety is choking me.  I don’t know what to say.  I look at your eyes.  Even after all these years, they still look the same.  Sitting beside you, scenes from that night flash through my mind.  We stood on the shore, watching the waves.  You put your arms around me… those big, strong arms that I’d admired for so long.  It was November and the wind was cold, so bitterly cold.  But it was warm against your chest.  I liked it there.  And it scared me.  It was too soon, my heart was still raw.  I wasn’t ready to be vulnerable again, so I pushed you away.

Stripped my senses
On the spot
I’ve never been defenseless
I can’t even make sense of this
You speak and I don’t hear a word

So much time has passed, yet you still remember everything, even what I was wearing.  It’s so hard to believe that you haven’t forgotten about me.  It’s even harder to believe that someone thinks I was actually worth remembering.  My heart swells.  And then it aches.  It’s been so long since my heart has been engaged, it isn’t used to feeling this way. 

What would happen if we kissed
Would your tongue slip past my lips
Would you run away, would you stay
Or would I melt into you
Mouth to mouth, lust to lust
Spontaneously combust

You tell me how badly you wanted to kiss me when we stood on the beach.  And how badly you want to kiss me right now.  You understand when I tell you that I can’t.  Oh, I desperately want to, but I just… I just can’t.

The room is spinning out of control
Act like you didn’t notice
Brushed my hand.

I’m so conflicted.  I feel like I’m going to throw up.  I watch your hand as it softly strokes my arm.  You’re trying to help me relax, but it’s not working.  You feel guilty because I’m so tense.  But it isn’t you that’s making me uncomfortable.  I’m so afraid of so many things…

Forbidden fruit
Ring on my finger


I want to put my hand in yours, to show you that I feel something too.  But every time I move my hand, it’s there… the reminder of the vows I made to someone else. 

You’re such a moral, moral man
You throw it away, no question
Will I pretend I’m innocent

You have so much in your favor.  You’re attractive, smart, stable, and funny.  And single.  I don’t understand why you are wasting that on me.  You once told me that reconnecting with you was fate.  “Now you have the opportunity to have what you’ve always wanted, or see if you can be happy with what you got.”  I’m not happy with what I have, but it was the choice I made.  God knows I’ve tried to make it work, He’s seen how hard I’ve fought.  But I’m tired.  I can’t fight anymore.  I wonder if “’til death do us part” includes “’til the death of my heart.” 

What would happen if we kissed
Would your tongue slip past my lips
Would you run away, would you stay
Or would I melt into you
Mouth to mouth, lust to lust
Spontaneously combust

You play that song again, the one about the guy who never gets over the girl.  You sing the lyrics and I die a little inside.  As I watch you drive away, I know that I’ve made a mistake.  I don’t feel guilt over spending the afternoon with you.  None at all.  My only regret is that I didn’t let you kiss me.

I struggle with myself again
Quickly the walls are crumbling
Don’t know if I can turn away

Months go by.  I finally work up the courage to see you again.  You warn me that this time, you won’t be such a gentleman.  I laugh, but secretly, I hope you aren’t joking.  This time when I see you, I don’t let my apprehension get between us.  I don’t fight it when you caress my neck and run your fingers through my hair.  For the first time, I’m letting myself enjoy how good your arms feel around me.  Oh, you smell so good.  I press myself closer to you, trying to forever capture your scent.  Maybe if I take in enough of it, I’ll be able to take it with me. 

What would happen if we kissed
Would your tongue slip past my lips
Would you run away, would you stay
Or would I melt into you
Mouth to mouth, lust to lust
Spontaneously combust

You interrupt me, mid-sentence.  I’m startled by the unexpected feeling of your lips, and my cheeks flush as your tongue brushes against mine.  My heart is pounding, my body trembling.  I have to stop to catch my breath.  You try to say something, but your words are incoherent.  The euphoric intoxication is clearly written on your face, yet I have to convince myself that it is there because. of. me.  It’s so hard to accept that someone has desired me so badly for so long.  I’m speechless.  I want to say something, but my voice refuses to work.  You pull me close again, but you stop before reaching my lips.  I can see in your eyes that you want to keep going, but you’re unsure of how I’ll respond.  It takes me back to that night, eight years ago, when you held me on the beach.  But this time, I don’t make the mistake of pushing you away.

Posted by: justmiss | April 20, 2009

Portrait of a Young Woman

Oh Karen. When I asked Karen of A Day in the Life… One Glass at a Time to guest post for me, I knew she wouldn’t disappoint me. What I was NOT expecting was to receive her email in the middle of dinner with another bloggerand her wonderful family, and to have tears spring to my eyes, all during a moment where I was already feeling so loved, so lucky, and so happy (which may have been with Vodka’s help but I dont think so) after feeling pretty shitty less than an hour before (which I KNOW was with Vodka’s help). Karen, I can never eloquently explain what your words mean to me. They were just what I needed and you will forever be a source of happiness to me. Thank you. Thank you so much.


When our Miss here asked me to guest blog, my reaction was, “Who me?  But of course, whoot!” I can let the “fucks” fly and change my crap to “shit” and people will rejoice, and even embrace it.”  

But then the pressure mounted.  Uh, heh, Miss has a discriminating audience who are used reading hilarious posts, poignant posts, and seeing her beauty in form (do you know a more gorgeous gal?)  and even more so in her words.  Me, well I’m certainly past my prime.  Miss, she writes the truth, never shying away from it.  She reviews pretty vibrators.  I review Swiffer dusters and because I don’t clean, I feel like a fraud. 

Um-kay, so how do I fit in here?

Not that I’m a liar. It’s just that in my own little part of the blog universe, things tend to be a little sugar-coated.  I wear my momblogger hat well, and ramble ad nauseum about my children and barf and shit.  Not always the most interesting stuff. 

So for this honour, I looked to myself for inspiration.  I asked myself to be open and honest. 

I looked in my old diary. 

I found it the other day while sorting through my daughter’s clothes in preparation for the change in season.  Buried under last year’s size 3T summer shorts and t-shirts was my diary entitled “A woman’s notebook: being a blank book with quotes by women”.

What I found inside was a fascinating evolution of a love affair, in my very own words. 

Years 1 – 3:

  “I’m not denyin’ the women are foolish: God almighty made ‘em to match the men”– George Eliot

“It is such a unique feeling to be so happy.  I’ve spent so much of my life being anxious, worried and nervous.”

“I want to melt with him”.

“I don’t want to lose this.  It’s something good that I have to work to keep.  I’ve resolved to do this.


Years 4 – 5:

Love’s a disease.  But curable.  – Rose Macaulay, English writer.

The pain of love is the pain of being alive.  It’s a perpetual wound – Maureen Duffy, English writer.

“I know he loves me.  I just hope it’s enough for me.”

“If he’s not the one then we should end it now before it gets much, much worse.  He’s never going to find anyone as devoted to him as I am, but it looks like that’s not really what he wants.  That’s the whole shame of it all. “

— Me.

And that was the last entry, written over 18 years ago.

Damn I was good.  A bit cliché, but good.

Reading these entries made me cry.  Even though I married the guy and we’re sharing a great life together, reliving this makes me want to smack him. For him to inspire such glorious heights of passion and then such depths of sorrow…but I won’t.  He just made me a really nice steak dinner with a lovely glass of red wine.   Yeah, he’s still got it.

Maybe I’m PMS’ing (and just so you know, Always, your review is next).  But that’s not it. 

It’s the power of the word. 

And this is what I find here, on Just Miss.  This is what draws me back, time and again. 

Keep it passionate.  Keep it real.  

I know you’ll find the right guy who’ll make you an even better steak dinner.

You’re beautiful inside and out.

Posted by: justmiss | April 17, 2009

Glass Houses

Today’s guest post is being posted anonymously. I must say though that the topic is something SO important to me, abuse. I can’t begin to explain right now but some know. Mental abuse happens in front of my face, to people I love dearly, almost every day. It breaks my heart to see people I care for in pain. Please love on my guest poster today. She is stronger than I am, and beautiful and full of love.


Four Months ago:


coward adjective : one who shows disgraceful fear or timidity AKA me.


Come look at my glass house.  Peak your nose at the window.  You will see the manicured lawn, the polished floors, and kids running around without a care.  You can also see me laughing, smiling and looking as if I have my shit together. 

Come look a little closer and listen to the conversations:

“You’re a fucking loser.”

“I gave you your hobbies.  You would have nothing if it was not for me.”

“No judge in the world will give you the kids, you have nothing, and you came from nothing.”

Welcome to my world. 

Excuse me while I put on a smile and pretend to the world that everything is okay.  Let me read the next scripted act as if I was in a never ending Broadway play.  

Because we all know perception is reality no?

Oh you didn’t, let me correct you then.  If you pretend everything is okay, then everything must be okay right? 

Yeah, that trick only works for as long as your mental health will allow.  Then you lose your shit and become depressed and find yourself popping Xanex to get through the day.

Present Day:

self respect noun a proper respect for oneself as a human being

I nearly threw myself a parade with banners, streamers and media coverage when I finally woke the fuck up and realized that I was not doing anybody any good by being a door mat. 

I heard myself say to a friend “Why do I deserve to be happy?  As long as the kids are happy that is all I care about” 


Was I fucking kidding myself?  Did I really just admit out loud that his happiness is more important than mine?  Did I really just make excuses for his insecure high school behavior and comments?

That was when I started to shed the skin of the insecure 12 year old girl that always felt like she was never good enough.

sacrifice noun destruction or surrender of something for the sake of something else b: something given up or lost That one word can mean so much. 
Everyday we make some sort of sacrifices.
Whether it is sacrificing sleep to get the last load of laundry done or making a sacrifice that will be a huge life altering decision, it all comes down to the power of choice.  Something I have learned over the past few months. 


I chose to stay powerless.  When you give someone your power, 9 out of 10 times they will take it and run with it.

I sacrificed my being more than I ever dreamed of for my marriage. 
I sacrificed it because I thought that if I gave up the things that made him so insecure it would make my glass house perfect.

The irony of it all, I hated living in a glass house.  Having it fall all around me was probably the best thing to ever happen to me.

It made me wake up and realize that I deserve to be happy.
It made me realize that HE needs to see that I deserve to be happy.
It also made me realize I have some pretty awesome friends who will hold my hand the entire time.

If you walk up to my glass house now you will see the smudges. 
You will see the cracks in the window.
The floors are not polished.
And the kids probably need a bath.
But we are trying at love again.

It may not be the ideal relationship.
Who knows, it may not ever be.
I am doing the right thing by trying to make it work?  I still don’t have that answer. 
I need to take the gamble to see if we can work, and if I can stand on my own with him.
Only time will tell the outcome.

Mental abuse is something no one should ever go though.  Ever. I will no longer be a coward.  I will no longer fear my husband. 

And he knows that now. 
I lost so much of me over the past three months that I know I will never get back and that makes me sad.

But had I not lost it, I would not have found my new skin.  And the new skin feels tight and hard to manage, but holy hell does it feel good.

Posted by: justmiss | April 16, 2009

Fuck Thy Neighbor With Thine Mental Penis

My very first guest post comes from someone that I think is kick ass and awesome. I’ve been reading her blog for a looooooong time and I’ve been lucky enough to have hung out with her quite a few times. And two of those times I gave her money to hang out with me. Draw your own conclusions. Seriously, read Jessie if you aren’t already. Pretty much every day is like this…


Well hello there. I’m Jessie Terwilliger, mostly known to you as David’s Doll. Miss asked me (frantically) to guest post for her, and the funny thing is that one of my regular readers asked for me to write about a specific topic today too. So with all the pressure of guest blogging for someone, trying to make new friends and impress the hell out of the new audience without looking like a douchebag, I’m just going to post the entry that would have gone on my blog today over here for you all to enjoy.

A few things you should know, Mustang Sally is my neighbor who is a hot Romanian sex goddess who speaks broken English. David is my humble and awesome man child of a husband. Steppy is a pretty boy cop who I pal around with who is painfully in love with me.

Let’s do this thing!

So Leah wrote to me today and said:

Just read your post about Sally and it got me thinking about the issues I have with my neighbour.
So do you take requests?
By that I mean, could you do a blog on how you deal with bitchy neigbours/mothers and their evil children?
I would love to start showing my neighbour who’s boss and put her snotty little kids in their place in the nicest of ways of course.
So in other words, I need a Jessie standing on my shoulder to tell me all the clever things to say.

The trick is Leah, you have to be very straight forward. No beating around the bush, no “well ums,” you just have to spit it out and let them choke on it. By that I do not mean that you should spit on or choke your neighbor, I do not advocate violence in any form unless of course you’re the owner of a tall can of mace and you’re a bit trigger happy, but that’s not the point.

The point is that you have to have a mental penis. Slap that shit out on tables (figuratively) when reading people the riot act. Command with it. Just imagine having a big veiny gruesome cock down there, possibly to replace the flaccid one that you already own, and just OWN your words when you say them.

Here, let me show you. This might not entirely relate to Leah’s situation but this story will show that you have to stand your ground and just let these people have it with both barrels.

The debacle with Sally continued yesterday evening. She knocks on the door and is oh so sweet. She’s telling me about work and a boy toy whose head she is messing with and she says, “So the book you are reading, I get that email from the Goodreads with your updates in it…I was wondering about this Open Marriage book you’re reading.”

“Yes I am reading a book about open marriage, I’m reviewing it for the sex toy website I’m in with.”

“Well…is just that I googled open marriage and I see what is all about now…so…are you and David going to try to do that kind of thing?”

“Not necessarily, no. Not like we’d actively pursue that, but the author’s ideals are very similar to ours in that humans weren’t really built for monogamy, and we already have the kind of relationship where if whoopsie, someone made a mistake, as much as that really sucks it’s not like either of us would lie about it because we feel that honesty is a big big important issue in marriage and this particular issue is what a lot of marriages lack today.”

“Oh. So you are sucking Steppy’s dick?”


“What? Did you not hear a word I just said?”

“Is just that he is here a lot and he is so nice to you.”

“So that automatically puts his dick in my mouth in your eyes?”

She shrugs innocently. “Other places too.”

“No Sally, there’s nothing going on between Steppy and I. It seems that we keep having this same conversation week after week. No. There is nothing going on.”

“Why not?”

“What do you mean why not?”

“He’s there,” she says as if I’m completely missing the point.

I shake my head at her. I don’t lose my temper, I just say plainly and a little louder than casual conversational volume “I don’t fuck things just because they’re there, Sally. I occasionally fuck things that come in the mail but that’s kind of a gig I’ve got going so it’s unrelated.” Distract them by giving TMI, because this shows that you’re not ashamed to talk about anything they might bring up. And don’t be. But be sure to keep a straight face or they wont take you seriously. Your bark has got to match your potential bite.

She leaves me with the words “is a waste,” and turns to go back into her house.

“It’s not a waste because he and I are close friends and despite the fact that he has strong feelings for me he knows that I need a brother more than I need a lover, so we leave well enough alone. I wish you could find a man to hang out with that you didn’t feel like you had to fuck Sally, someone who will still love the crap out of you even if you don’t feel the same way back.”

She goes inside.

And bitch has been put in her place.

See what I did there?

Sally is intimidating as hell, I admit. I still think she’s going to kick my ass one of these days or just throw her door open one day when David is coming up the stairs and make the fuck out with him before kicking him in the nards and telling him to stop making so much noise when he comes home. But being firm with her seems to work wonders.

Here’s another example that involves her and my children. Wade was out playing in the grass and he came running home crying because he got hurt. I get up to meet him at the door and Sally comes out. She says, “Wade before wasn’t so, you know, wussy. What did you do to him?”

How many things are wrong with that statement? Oh let me count the ways…

No, don’t.

Just say, very firmly, “he’s three years old.”

“Yeah but he did not cry so much before.”

“He’s three years old.”

Same thing with the neighborhood kids who stole our Nerf guns, those little assholes, I told them straight up that they stole them from a five year old and to be ashamed of themselves. I don’t care if their mothers don’t approve, I’ve evicted moms of little hellions like that. Straight up.

David’s pretty good too. A way older kid comes to the door and says “Is your son home?”

David looks at the kid and says “Do you even know his name?”

“Um…no but he’s my friend.”

David stands there for a minute. “You’re a little old to be playing with my kid.”

“Uh…okay, sorry.”

Mental penis people, mental freaking penis. Ram it up people’s asses if you have to, but always remember that it is there if you accept it as your savior. Okay, if not a penis, then a huge can of mace that will fuck someone’s shit up. Whatever visual works for you.

Told youuuuu. Now go add Jessie to your readers. Go!

Posted by: justmiss | April 15, 2009

“We were on a BREAK!!”

Tell me you did not just hear Ross in your head.

Ever hear that phrase “sick and tired of being sick and tired”? That is so me right about now. I’m so tired. I am worn down emotionally. It’s a culmination of things that have been building up inside of me and I just need to slow down. Steps need to be taken backwards and things are in the process of being re-evaluated. Hopefully they are for good, not bad, and I hold tight the hope that I won’t end up losing something uniquely important to me when all is said and done.

Whenever things in my real life feel like they are crashing or sliding, all my inspiration goes with it. I know that if I open this blog up and start spilling words onto these pages, I’ll end up saying something I really shouldn’t. I don’t have much of a problem being a bitch, I really don’t. But I refuse to make insinuations and assumptions that could hurt someone that I love so it’s best that I take steps back.

But, never fear. I’ve called in some favors and I have some really excellent guest posters coming up. I know everyone says that, and then their stats drop, and no one visits because guest posters are like STUPID, but not here. I wouldn’t post crap on my blog, unless its my own crap. And you read THAT.

I’ll stick my head in occasionally and make sure these guest posters aren’t tearing up the place. They be some crazy ass bitches.

If you’d be interested in guest posting, just let me know. I mean you read here, you can’t suck all that much.

I’ll be back once every day doesn’t feel like a mind fuck. Plus you know, you can see me curse on twitter if you’re into that sort of thing.


Posted by: justmiss | April 10, 2009

Her Legacy

As most, if not all of my readers already know, our world lost a beautiful and innocent soul on Tuesday, April 7th. Maddie Spohr, daughter of Heather and Mike Spohr, passed away after being admitted to the hospital earlier in the week for a cough.

She was 17 months old. At only 17 months, she was full of life, of spirit, and of joy.

I had the pleasure of being a guest at the Spohr’s home less than a month ago. Heather and Mike opened their home to a bunch of crazy ass bloggers. There was booze, there was good music, and there was no short supply of laughter at ANY time. I hadn’t met Heather, or even read her blog before then. But in meeting her and her husband Mike, I automatically liked them both. They are wonderful people. And the two of them reflected in their daughter. She wooed the whole room with her big blue eyes. She is, hands down, the happiest baby I have ever met.

When I read the news of Maddie’s passing, I literally felt my heart break a little. I sat and sobbed for a long time because I just could not understand why something like this would happen. It made me angry, it physically made me ache. It was so hard to comprehend.


I literally had stood in Maddie’s beautiful purple room and thought what a lucky little girl she was. I sat and listened to her daddy Mike brag about what a fighter she was and how she had defied so many odds in her 17 months. I watched as everyone loved on her, and she fought so hard to stay awake and be a part of the action as most kids do. She snuggled with her Dad for quite some time before walking over to her OWN chair, and falling right to sleep. The girl had important things to dream about.

I’m here telling the story of the day I met Maddie because the next time I make a memory of her, and of her mom and dad, I will be at her memorial services.

And that makes my heart hurt.

In the last 3 days, my faith in the humanity of people has been restored. I have sat here and watched a community come together, all in the name of this little girl. I have never seen anything like it. Instead of complaining about medicine ads, or Walmart, or other mundane things as bloggers so readily like to attack, we have come together and figuratively put our arms around Heather and Mike at this time. In 3 days, there has been over $22,000 donated to the March of Dimes. $22,000 in 3 days. There have been hundreds of posts written in Maddie’s honor. People have vowed to walk in her name at relays around the country. At this time, people are dipping into their couch cushions piggy banks and donating now directly to the Spohr family to help cover funeral costs. Food for the family has been arranged for the next few weeks. People will dress in purple on Tuesday as a show of support. Many will release balloons in memory of Maddie.

And we have only just begun I think.

For all the people who are sitting at their computer screens across the country, tears falling for Maddie, this is their way of helping. This is their way of supporting Heather and Mike during this incredibly hard time.

Because no one should ever, ever have to say goodbye to their child in this way.

It humbles me. On Tuesday, I will stand with friends, some of which I have never met, some I have only met once, and together we will mourn and celebrate the life of this little girl. On the 25th of April, I will walk with many of these people again, along side the Spohr family, in memory of Maddie.

To anyone who has shown any support of the Spohrs, to anyone who has hugged their babies a little tighter in light of this, to anyone who has wiped their own tears away… Thank You.

It is because of all of you that Maddie has left something in her wake. Her legacy. Had she lived, she would have done amazing things. That much I know to be true. Now, with her passing, she has achieved this, just a bit earlier than planned.

Rest peacefully Sweet Madeline. We’ll handle the rest from here.

November 11, 2007 – April 7, 2009


There are so many places you can find information about upcoming services, ways to donate, walks, and all the ways people are honoring Maddie. Two of those resources come from two ladies I had the pleasure of meeting the day I met Heather, Mike, and Maddie. They are amazing, and both have done wonderful things for the Spohr family.

Please go visit the Undomestic Diva for almost every single thing you might want to know.

As a community, we have raised so much for the March of Dimes. Now Heather and Mike are faced with the financial expenses that come with such tragedy. Please, if you have anything to spare, please donate it directly to this family. You can go to Megan’s site, AMomTwoBoys for easy links to the paypal accounts set up for the family. She also has links to some wonderful buttons that honor the memory of Maddie as well as ways to donate.

Posted by: justmiss | April 6, 2009

The tale of the bloody metal door thingy

Two things about me, to start.

One? I am very easily distracted.

Two? I think that I am ok in a crisis.

That said, tonight I made one of these statements true, and the other really, really false.

Since I was out of the house all weekend with friends, when I got home, the first thing my dad asked was if the hamster was alive. This happens most any day after I am not home for the night. It’s like my dad’s thing. I always say yes, even without checking. My eyes always scan the cage when I walk in the room and if I don’t see her lifeless body, I consider it a win. I did just that today when I got home then I went to finish watching the Dodgers blow out the Padres on their opening day. *ahem* Then we watched CSI (boo WTF) and in between that and a new Ghost Hunters episode, I went to get my laundry to start. For whatever reason, I decided to try to wake up the hamster while I was getting my laundry ready. I went to the cage and opened the door and heard a little scream.

Her little itty bitty foot was stuck in the joint of the door.

[insert me freaking out here]

I probably scared my mom half to death when I ran out of the room, half way into the kitchen and yelled “HAMMY’S FOOT IS STUCK IN THE DOOR OH MY GOD!!!!” and ran back to my room.

Heh. Yea. That’s me handling a crisis well.

Of course my mom is cool and collected as she gently helped unstick the hamsters tiny little itty bitty leg, which, I might add, was all bloody and raw.


I SO did not take a picture of her stuck. I’m not pure evil. But this is where it happened.

So I threw on a pair of thick socks, ON MY HANDS, and picked her up. Hell NO I wasn’t going to let the little bitch bite me. Been there, done that. I held her while my mom cleaned her little leg up. This hamster is very vocal and always has been and she makes this creepy ass noise when she’s pissed. Which was a clear indication that she was probably ok.

Either way, I cleaned her cage while my mom held her and freaked out all the other animals residing here. Especially the white dog. She flips for the hamster. We had a bad thunderstorm and I happened to be uh, out and the dog came in my room, jumped on the bed, and knocked the hamster cage OVER. She is obsessed with the little critter. Annoyingly so.

Did I mention my mom held the hamster in that tupperwear there?

I honestly have no clue how she ended up stuck. Or how long she had been there. She’s running around and such, but dragging the stuck leg behind her. It’s creepy as hell. I hope she doesn’t die because I so don’t want to have that conversation with my kid. We had a rabbit once who’s leg basically broke in half and it died. That was traumatizing.

Maybe I shouldn’t have small pets.

Not dead. She was actually in this position cleaning her little wound. Poor dear.

Posted by: justmiss | April 1, 2009

A tickle? Or a prick? (It’s neither actually)

Wow. April already huh?

What do you say we start this month off with a bang? Or, more specifically, a solo bang?

(How do you feel about that euphemism? I’m not that big a fan but I’m still using it.)

Since I’ve been flying solo for quite some time, I’m a little hard up. The right combination of words, thoughts, a few images of a hot guy and you can consider me done for the night. Safe to say it’s not taking much these days.

Put into play my collection of toys and what nots? You can find me with a smile on my face most nights.

Enter The Prickler, front and center.

pypicMy new best friend

I’ve never played with glass before. It was kind of intimidating. Then why did you pick it Miss? Well because Miss likes a challenge, that’s why. And I like to be able to say I at least tried it. And tried it I have.

The thing about this glass dildo is that it has given me a different experience each time I’ve used it. The first time was amazing. I highly enjoyed how cold the glass felt and how smoothly it slid in. It warmed up very quickly and the raised nubs on the end rubbed perfectly on the now not so infamous g spot.

The second time, I wasn’t as successful but I wasn’t quite ready to blame the Prickler just yet. I just needed a bit more practice and patience and time and soon it was hard to choose anything else to get myself off.

Just to be thorough, I went ahead and jumped in the shower before writing this, just to allow the Prickler to make it’s final impression before I wrote this review. And I hadn’t used it in the shower yet! So bonus. While doing the necessary things one does in the shower, I recalled some fantastic memories of showers past. And I don’t mean the solo kind. (Think me on my back, one leg thrown over the edge of the tub, the other leg thrown over his shoulder, hips off the bottom of the tub… and once he’s done, hearing that satisfying crack of his knee caps as he stands up… Yup, that and the recall of that soft skin… that’ll do it every time.) By the time I was ready to play, I was ready to play. Let me tell you… hot water. Pyrex glass dildo. The sliding. The steam. All these elements added up to an almost perfect orgasm.

If any of this has peaked your, uh interest, I suggest you hustle over to Eden Fantasys and pick one of these beauties up. For $30.99, why wouldn’t you? That’s like the cost of a blueray DVD, or whatever crazy newfangled things you kids are into these days. Just go. Believe me, I would not lead you in the wrong direction, especially when it comes to sex and toys. That’s the stuff in life I take seriously.

Priorities kids. Priorities.

Posted by: justmiss | March 26, 2009

People Forget

People forget. They forget your name. They forget where you came from. They can’t remember how you met. They don’t remember your mom’s name, or that your favorite color used to be purple before it was green.

People forget. They walk away for a little while and they forget who you are. They forget that one time, when you went to the beach together, and you stood in the waves holding hands and laughing. They cant remember that day you rushed to a store before it closed because they really needed something from there, but couldn’t get there. They forget making plans that you looked forward to with your whole heart, that you believed because you wanted it to be true, when to them, it was just a daydream.

People forget. They forget what you meant to them. They forget that you used to spend hours laying in bed, talking about your life, giving them pieces of your past. They forget what happens when you reveal your weaknesses, how exposing your soft underbelly was a risk. A risk you were so sure you were willing to take for them. People forget the sacrifices you made, the things you put to the side, the ledges you stood on, just for them.

People forget. They forget how they laid their head in your lap and just cried, all the while you were rubbing their head and gently talking them through their tears. They forget how they held you while you sobbed in their arms, how just by holding you, they held your world together.

People forget. Is it because they are selfish? Is it because they believe they aren’t the same? Or is it because you weren’t worth remembering? Maybe it’s you that isn’t worth a second thought. Maybe people forget you because you just blend into a blur of memories that mean nothing. Maybe you haven’t been memorable.

People forget. But maybe it’s just better this way.

Yea she is beautiful
But she didn’t mean a thing to me…

Story of my life.

Posted by: justmiss | March 20, 2009

I’m just…

… completely overwhelmed.

In my last post, I went on about how last year, my birthday just didn’t feel special.

You all must have been listening.

I can’t even begin to explain how blown away I am by all of you.

Starting on Tuesday, my birthday took on a whole new meaning. Between Tuesday and last night,  I was treated to dinners, drinks, and some of my favorite things.

I got the chances to dress up and feel beautiful. I got to eat amazing food I’ve never had before, drink delicious wine, see a kick ass blue’s band play AND chill with the band itself.

And yesterday. From two hours before midnight (from the other time zone lovers) and well into the day, I received emails, comments, twitters, DM’s, text messages… you name it. All wishing me happy birthday, a beautiful day, and positive thoughts.

I just have to thank a few people here, and I hope that you don’t mind that I didn’t link. There are far too many of you. And that in itself is overwhelming.

To my Maria… I can’t begin to describe what you’ve meant to me these days. You are my voice of logic when I am acting like a certifiable asshole. You make me laugh in ridiculous ways. You laugh at my incredibly stupid jokes. You made me cry when you wrote for me and you made me laugh in the same instance. I fucking love you, bitch. You are and will forever be my female nerd counterpart. And thanks for the Flickr pro too bitch.

To my darling Nicole… You’ve been so supportive of me during the hardest times of my life, always holding my hand, always showing me the brighter side of some of the dimmest looking outcomes. Hearing from you and the Princess and hearing her sing happy birthday to me made me cry (again). It was the perfect treat. Thank you for allowing me to be part of your life. Even if I am “that girl from the internet who wants to steal yo cash money.”

To Terra… my beautiful Canadian lovah. The flowers you sent me are breathtaking. I love explaining to my co-workers who sent them and what you mean to me. I’ve explained it a lot. We’ve gone down some crazy roads together and you’ve always been there, holding my hand. You’ll never know what that means to me.

To the always lovely Kim… You gave me such a perfect gift, I can’t even begin to explain. I love nerdy and funny shirts. Your gift card came at a perfect time. I love you for thinking of me and for being MY friend even with your life happening around you at such a pace. You will always mean something special in my heart.

To Colleen… I don’t know what gave you the impression that I love to eat, but good job! You are amazing and are such a good friend. I can’t wait to buy you a drink and give you a hug when we meet.

To Ashley… Getting your home made card in the mail was an unexpected but SO appreciated surprise. To know you took the time to make it for me, I’m just so grateful. You are probably the sweetest person I’ve ever met online and I am SO glad to be your friend.

To Mishi and Patrick… You guys both gave me something that no one can ever take from me. The gift of music. You know how much of my life is involved in music and you, in turn, shared some of it with me. I can’t thank either of you enough.

To Jessie and Elly… Jessie thank you for the new header. I’m fighting with it to resize but once I get it, I’ll display it proudly. You are a kick ass woman and I’m happy that we are friends. Elly, I DO want to take you up on your offer. You are such an astounding person, I do hope to get to know you better!

To Sarah… You are a wonderful person with a huge heart. Thank you for your words. I can only hope that one day we can meet and I can give you that hug you deserve. Thanks for helping me get dressed on Wednesday. 😉

To You (you know, the one that everyone keeps doubting and I keep denying existence?)… You blow me away. You’ve shown me what happens when we take risks, tempt fate, and what taking chances actually means. You’ve given me movie moments, made me feel beautiful and funny, and you’ve improved the quality of my life, you do every day. You always say you’re lucky, but I’m going to have to say that I’m the lucky one here, for having you in my life. Despite what you may believe to be flaws, thank you for being you. I could not ask for more. (And I ain’t telling you bitches shit. Just smile and say aww ok?)

Seriously. If I think too hard about the last couple days and what you all have done for me, I start to cry. Not that I doubted any of you, but it is all very unexpected. That’s my own self worth talking, or I suppose, lack there of. I don’t see myself as worthy of the love and friendship you all have given me. Especially because I can be quite the bitch.

I don’t deserve any of you.

But I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

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