I got a bar to run.
Ivy...
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
The bitch moved me!
So, yeah... my blog got moved. Apparently the boss thinks I need to be over on her other blog. Check me out there if you care. If not, fuck ya... I don't really need you anyway.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
You left him where?
WHAT'S UP?
It's been a long time, I know. You all must just miss me! G'head you can admit it...Like a hole in your heads, right? Yeah thought so...
Anyway... I have a story I want to tell you. I was seriously thinking about telling you about multiple orgasms... or, the lack thereof... BUT, I decided Nahhh... Maybe another time.
So here's the story...
I remembered it the other day and I had a good laugh over it.
When I was --hmm, 17, I took a trip with my father...and my boyfriend at the time. Yes, yes, I know what you are thinking... IVY, you had a boyfriend and he wasn't someone else's boyfriend? YEP, I sure as fuck did, however it didn't last very long...LOL
Ok, so I took a trip with my father and my boyfriend to Rochester, NY. Charlie was my boyfriend... Let me tell you a little bit about sweet Charlie. Yeah... Long hair, work boots, flannel, jeans, truck, leather motorcycle jacket...oh, and brush in hand... Yeah, I said brush... He was strange and well, it was the 80's, so there ya have it.
Anyway... Charlie LOVED me. Fucking hell did he fucking love me. He followed me everywhere, was jealous ALL the time and DROVE me nuts. He seriously annoyed the piss out of me.
Now, Rochester, NY is roughly six hours from where we lived. We were heading up there for my cousins college football game. The drive up was fine, we saw the game and that was fine, too... Oh, and let me mention, Mom was there and they (my parents) were separated at this point and she drove up with all my cousins, aunts and uncles etc...
So, we're walking back to the car and I decide I'm gonna sit in the back and take a nap.
Charlie, sweet Charlie, looks at me as we're getting in the car and says, "Remind me later I need to tell you something." And I say, "Oh, is everything okay? Are you upset with me?" Ya know... like a good little girlfriend... [Insert batting of eyes]
He replies "Nah, nah, it's fine. I'll tell you later."
So, we get in the car and Dad looks at him as we're pulling from the parking lot and says, "Why are you fucking with my daughter?" HUH? WHAT? And Charlie says, "I'm not."
So begins the tennis match…
"Yes you are."
"No I'm not."
"Daddy, please... it's fine."
"Shut up, Ivy."
"I want to know why you're fucking with my daughter. She now has to sit in the car for six fucking hours and wonder what it is you need to talk to her about."
Let me just say that my father grew up in Manhattan and ran with some rough crowds... You know... "friends." Anyway, he kinda sounds like Tony Soprano when gets like this... *shiver*
So the yelling begins... more of the tennis match and Charlie, the fucking moron says, "Stop the car I am getting out!"
This all happened in under 3 minutes. We weren't even a half mile from the college.
My father, being the bastard that he is, stops the car and says, "Get the fuck out!" Charlie says, "Come on babe." So I go to get out too.
My father turns around and slaps the death grip from hell on my arm, "DON'T YOU FUCKING MOVE!" And, yeah, I don't move 'cause I don't want to get my ass beat.
He drives off...
The mother fucker drives off and leaves my boyfriend there. Of course, I am freaking the fuck out. Needless to say the drive home, all six dreadful hours of it, was hell. Lots of yelling from him and lots of crying from me. Hey, I was a kid.
Now, let me tell you what the idiot does. Remember, I said we weren't even a half mile away from the school, right? So, instead of turning back the way we came, ya know, from the parking lot where my mother is still located with my family, the idiot heads in another direction.
Here's the mental image: Long hair, work boots, leather jacket, flannel underneath and, OH yeah - the fucking brush in his hand. He starts crossing the football field… Some jock calls him an asshole or something like that and Charlie decides to throw down with the guy... Then, he gets arrested.
Fast forward six hours, my father drops me off at home and I go into the house. My mother is there, she somehow beat us home, and I go in and begin crying hysterically; telling her the story. Of course, she is furious with my father because he deserted a minor six hours away from home. She called him and sliced into him too... Not that it mattered.
Apparently, when Charlie got arrested, his father was called and had to drive six hours to pick his ass up and then drive back home again. What fun for him... All because idiot wouldn't tell me something then and there, and then said "Let me out of the car," to a crazy man and then didn't run to where my mother was so he could get home. Moron.
Wow I tell ya, I know how to pick em'.
Ya know what he had to tell me? That one of our friends we thought had died, out in California somewhere, turned out to not be dead. It was just a rumor. Yeah, that surely was something he had to wait to tell me... Fucking idiot!
So, there's my story. Nothing fancy, sexual or scary... Well, kinda scary I suppose.
Have fun folks!
Don't do anything I wouldn't do... Which, of course, is pretty much everything.
Ivy
It's been a long time, I know. You all must just miss me! G'head you can admit it...Like a hole in your heads, right? Yeah thought so...
Anyway... I have a story I want to tell you. I was seriously thinking about telling you about multiple orgasms... or, the lack thereof... BUT, I decided Nahhh... Maybe another time.
So here's the story...
I remembered it the other day and I had a good laugh over it.
When I was --hmm, 17, I took a trip with my father...and my boyfriend at the time. Yes, yes, I know what you are thinking... IVY, you had a boyfriend and he wasn't someone else's boyfriend? YEP, I sure as fuck did, however it didn't last very long...LOL
Ok, so I took a trip with my father and my boyfriend to Rochester, NY. Charlie was my boyfriend... Let me tell you a little bit about sweet Charlie. Yeah... Long hair, work boots, flannel, jeans, truck, leather motorcycle jacket...oh, and brush in hand... Yeah, I said brush... He was strange and well, it was the 80's, so there ya have it.
Anyway... Charlie LOVED me. Fucking hell did he fucking love me. He followed me everywhere, was jealous ALL the time and DROVE me nuts. He seriously annoyed the piss out of me.
Now, Rochester, NY is roughly six hours from where we lived. We were heading up there for my cousins college football game. The drive up was fine, we saw the game and that was fine, too... Oh, and let me mention, Mom was there and they (my parents) were separated at this point and she drove up with all my cousins, aunts and uncles etc...
So, we're walking back to the car and I decide I'm gonna sit in the back and take a nap.
Charlie, sweet Charlie, looks at me as we're getting in the car and says, "Remind me later I need to tell you something." And I say, "Oh, is everything okay? Are you upset with me?" Ya know... like a good little girlfriend... [Insert batting of eyes]
He replies "Nah, nah, it's fine. I'll tell you later."
So, we get in the car and Dad looks at him as we're pulling from the parking lot and says, "Why are you fucking with my daughter?" HUH? WHAT? And Charlie says, "I'm not."
So begins the tennis match…
"Yes you are."
"No I'm not."
"Daddy, please... it's fine."
"Shut up, Ivy."
"I want to know why you're fucking with my daughter. She now has to sit in the car for six fucking hours and wonder what it is you need to talk to her about."
Let me just say that my father grew up in Manhattan and ran with some rough crowds... You know... "friends." Anyway, he kinda sounds like Tony Soprano when gets like this... *shiver*
So the yelling begins... more of the tennis match and Charlie, the fucking moron says, "Stop the car I am getting out!"
This all happened in under 3 minutes. We weren't even a half mile from the college.
My father, being the bastard that he is, stops the car and says, "Get the fuck out!" Charlie says, "Come on babe." So I go to get out too.
My father turns around and slaps the death grip from hell on my arm, "DON'T YOU FUCKING MOVE!" And, yeah, I don't move 'cause I don't want to get my ass beat.
He drives off...
The mother fucker drives off and leaves my boyfriend there. Of course, I am freaking the fuck out. Needless to say the drive home, all six dreadful hours of it, was hell. Lots of yelling from him and lots of crying from me. Hey, I was a kid.
Now, let me tell you what the idiot does. Remember, I said we weren't even a half mile away from the school, right? So, instead of turning back the way we came, ya know, from the parking lot where my mother is still located with my family, the idiot heads in another direction.
Here's the mental image: Long hair, work boots, leather jacket, flannel underneath and, OH yeah - the fucking brush in his hand. He starts crossing the football field… Some jock calls him an asshole or something like that and Charlie decides to throw down with the guy... Then, he gets arrested.
Fast forward six hours, my father drops me off at home and I go into the house. My mother is there, she somehow beat us home, and I go in and begin crying hysterically; telling her the story. Of course, she is furious with my father because he deserted a minor six hours away from home. She called him and sliced into him too... Not that it mattered.
Apparently, when Charlie got arrested, his father was called and had to drive six hours to pick his ass up and then drive back home again. What fun for him... All because idiot wouldn't tell me something then and there, and then said "Let me out of the car," to a crazy man and then didn't run to where my mother was so he could get home. Moron.
Wow I tell ya, I know how to pick em'.
Ya know what he had to tell me? That one of our friends we thought had died, out in California somewhere, turned out to not be dead. It was just a rumor. Yeah, that surely was something he had to wait to tell me... Fucking idiot!
So, there's my story. Nothing fancy, sexual or scary... Well, kinda scary I suppose.
Have fun folks!
Don't do anything I wouldn't do... Which, of course, is pretty much everything.
Ivy
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Get out of the closet!
What's up everyone?
Yeah, yeah I am back. Figured I would tell you all another tale.
Let's see...
Back in the early 90's I had a best friend and we were roommates. We were a bit wild then, single and screwing whoever we pleased. She's married now and all domesticated and shit. Me? Well, I'm still me, just a bit more mellow then I used to be.
So, we're out one night hanging at the club and I run into this guy that I knew from college and we were all hanging out.
He had two friends with him that I didn't know. One was a manager at this local hotel bar. The other I don't remember much about. Hell I barely knew the guy from college.
Later we ended up at the hotel bar that the other guy manages and hung out for a bit longer. Hotel guy and my friend are flirting and shit so the guy gets one of the rooms upstairs for us.
She tells hotel guy to lose the 3rd buddy with them. He does and the 4 of us go upstairs to the room.
She gets the bed with the hotel guy and I go into the bathroom with the guy I knew.
Anyway we do our thing right? And by the way, it wasn't even good... It sucked actually. Talk about your disappointing lays.
Oh it gets worse...after we were done the fucker looks at me and says, "Yeah, no worries... but I have herpes. You don't mind right?"
MOTHER FUCKER...I almost punched his face.
My Response... "WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY?"
He was kidding and I had made him wrap his package in latex but still.
Anyway...
We're getting dressed and we hear all this noise outside the bathroom door. I had no idea what the fuck was going on out there.
I open the door to my friend screaming that someone had been hiding in the closet.
"WHAT?! Fucking call the front desk!" I tell her and the hotel guy is trying to calm us down and saying, "No. No, you can’t call… It’s fine… It’s fine…"
"Like fucking hell it's fine."
So here is what happened while I was having a not so enjoyable time in the bathroom.
They were in bed... (Her and hotel guy) They had finished and she was on her back with him leaning over her... trying to be all stupid sweet… WHATEVER DUDE. LOL. Anyway she notices the closet door is open a little and it wasn't before. The doors were mirrored panels, the ones that slide from side to side, and tuck one behind the other.
So she asks hotel guy, "Dude why is the closet door open?"
"Hmm? What?" he replies.
She looks again and sees the door kind of shake a little and again says to him, "DUDE there is someone in the fucking closet!"
"Oh? No, no there's not."
"Fuck you! Yes there is!"
So, she gets up and grabs her knife. Yes, I said knife. We used to carry knives because... Well that's a story for a different day. I'll just say I was a bartender and we were young and got ourselves into precarious situations.. Yada, yada, blah, blah!
Anyway.
She grabs her knife and palms it with the blade pointed down and along her forearm and begins tip toeing over to the closet. She looks back at the dude in the bed and he's just sitting there, sheets pulled up to his eyes... Like a fucking little girl and totally scared of what she's going to do.
She walks right up to the closet door, stands very still in front of it… and the fucking thing closes RIGHT IN FRONT OF HER!
She starts screaming. "GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE CLOSET YOU MOTHER FUCKER!!!!!!"
The opposite door opens and the dude runs out and through the hotel room door into the hall. Of course she hasn't stopped yelling and did I mention she was naked?
Yeah… Butt fucking ass naked!
She yells, "WHAT! THE! FUCK! I could have just knifed someone!" as she is getting dressed.
This is about the time I came out of the bathroom.
So we leave and as we approach our car which is parked next to theirs she stops and says to the guy, "DUDE, the next time you want your friend to watch, you need to let me know." Holy shit, right?”
She remembered the green checkered flannel their friend had been wearing and realized it was him! The fucking twerp!
True story... Swear on my grandfather's grave!
So that's all I have for you today. I hope you enjoyed reading this one. I know I laughed a lot while writing it. Ahhh Memories!
Later,
Ivy
Yeah, yeah I am back. Figured I would tell you all another tale.
Let's see...
Back in the early 90's I had a best friend and we were roommates. We were a bit wild then, single and screwing whoever we pleased. She's married now and all domesticated and shit. Me? Well, I'm still me, just a bit more mellow then I used to be.
So, we're out one night hanging at the club and I run into this guy that I knew from college and we were all hanging out.
He had two friends with him that I didn't know. One was a manager at this local hotel bar. The other I don't remember much about. Hell I barely knew the guy from college.
Later we ended up at the hotel bar that the other guy manages and hung out for a bit longer. Hotel guy and my friend are flirting and shit so the guy gets one of the rooms upstairs for us.
She tells hotel guy to lose the 3rd buddy with them. He does and the 4 of us go upstairs to the room.
She gets the bed with the hotel guy and I go into the bathroom with the guy I knew.
Anyway we do our thing right? And by the way, it wasn't even good... It sucked actually. Talk about your disappointing lays.
Oh it gets worse...after we were done the fucker looks at me and says, "Yeah, no worries... but I have herpes. You don't mind right?"
MOTHER FUCKER...I almost punched his face.
My Response... "WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY?"
He was kidding and I had made him wrap his package in latex but still.
Anyway...
We're getting dressed and we hear all this noise outside the bathroom door. I had no idea what the fuck was going on out there.
I open the door to my friend screaming that someone had been hiding in the closet.
"WHAT?! Fucking call the front desk!" I tell her and the hotel guy is trying to calm us down and saying, "No. No, you can’t call… It’s fine… It’s fine…"
"Like fucking hell it's fine."
So here is what happened while I was having a not so enjoyable time in the bathroom.
They were in bed... (Her and hotel guy) They had finished and she was on her back with him leaning over her... trying to be all stupid sweet… WHATEVER DUDE. LOL. Anyway she notices the closet door is open a little and it wasn't before. The doors were mirrored panels, the ones that slide from side to side, and tuck one behind the other.
So she asks hotel guy, "Dude why is the closet door open?"
"Hmm? What?" he replies.
She looks again and sees the door kind of shake a little and again says to him, "DUDE there is someone in the fucking closet!"
"Oh? No, no there's not."
"Fuck you! Yes there is!"
So, she gets up and grabs her knife. Yes, I said knife. We used to carry knives because... Well that's a story for a different day. I'll just say I was a bartender and we were young and got ourselves into precarious situations.. Yada, yada, blah, blah!
Anyway.
She grabs her knife and palms it with the blade pointed down and along her forearm and begins tip toeing over to the closet. She looks back at the dude in the bed and he's just sitting there, sheets pulled up to his eyes... Like a fucking little girl and totally scared of what she's going to do.
She walks right up to the closet door, stands very still in front of it… and the fucking thing closes RIGHT IN FRONT OF HER!
She starts screaming. "GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE CLOSET YOU MOTHER FUCKER!!!!!!"
The opposite door opens and the dude runs out and through the hotel room door into the hall. Of course she hasn't stopped yelling and did I mention she was naked?
Yeah… Butt fucking ass naked!
She yells, "WHAT! THE! FUCK! I could have just knifed someone!" as she is getting dressed.
This is about the time I came out of the bathroom.
So we leave and as we approach our car which is parked next to theirs she stops and says to the guy, "DUDE, the next time you want your friend to watch, you need to let me know." Holy shit, right?”
She remembered the green checkered flannel their friend had been wearing and realized it was him! The fucking twerp!
True story... Swear on my grandfather's grave!
So that's all I have for you today. I hope you enjoyed reading this one. I know I laughed a lot while writing it. Ahhh Memories!
Later,
Ivy
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
The Instigator
Figured it was time to tell another story.
Where to begin... Ah yes, I have the ability to drive a man to hit me.
Does this surprise you? Heh... Probably not. It's not entirely my fault really, and no, I am not saying that women deserve to be hit or anything... well some women maybe.
Just fucking relax and let me see if I can lay it down for you further.
I told you all before that I didn't have the greatest home life. My parents, shit, my parents should NEVER have been together. My mother was a woman who never shut the fuck up when she was pissed. My father, well he knew how to shut her the fuck up, and I don't mean in a fun kinky kinda way.
Now don't get me wrong, it wasn't all bad. We had our fun times, family vacations etc. But, there were those times where she would start and wouldn't stop until he was beating the shit out of her and us kids would come running to the rescue. We took our fair share of lumps trying to pull that fucker off her.
Most times the argument would start off with her bitching at him about something he did or didn't do that she wasn't happy about.. Blah. Blah. Blah.
The fight would start and she would just be pecking at him. He would ignore her, or try to explain or yell back and eventually because she wouldn't stop he would lose it.
Believe me...most the time the shit spewing out of her head was excessive, abusive and utterly annoying.
He would always warn her though. "You better fucking stop. Enough!" he would say in that low deep growl that usually meant he was about to blow. Of course she NEVER listened to the warning. She would blow right past that with a “Fuck you,” or a “go Fuck yourself” and then it would start.
All hell would break loose in whatever room of the house they happened to be in and my sister and brother would come running and jump in the middle. Me, being too young, would watch with wide frightened eyes.
Happy fucking home don't ya think? Yeah... Not so much.
The point is, growing up like this does shit to you. Hell, having my mother’s genes does shit to you, too. For a long time you don't even know that it's not normal and that this sort of thing doesn't happen in all homes.
My sister is pretty fucked in the head and so am I, really. She is the one now that lunges for you when you say something she doesn't like, looking to slap or claw… or whatever works for her at the moment. My brother, surprisingly, is not a violent man.
Me... I'm the instigator. Just like my mother of course. That little realization of mine made me want to fucking hurl and would be another reason I don't bother with serious relationships. I also do my fair share of clawing, but only when necessary. Seems, its always necessary.
If a man has the slightest bit of a violent temper and you mix him with my brand of poison then what you end up with is one broken and bruised, Ivy. Until I retaliate, of course.
I have the ability to drive a man to the edge of hell and back and if he is a man who's a hitter? Well then there ya go.
But let me tell you, there is one significant difference between my mother and I. Believe it or not I do know how to shut my mouth now (sometimes). It took a few bruised cheeks and bloody noses when I was young to figure this out, and that fucker who punched me in the side of the head so hard I flew across the room still needs to get what’s coming to him. That fucking HURT!
The point is, I realized long ago that I shouldn't poke the bee-hive, at least not with my finger...maybe a long stick, wrapped in ivy and dripping honey. Ha Ha.
Okay, I know it’s not funny really, but it is a truth that many don't see.
There are plenty of fucks out there that are just straight up nasty. They hit for the sake of hitting and the women they are beating on are not at fault in any way. Then, there are the kind of situations I was telling you about.
In my head I guess I could explain it as a search for power and justification.
Push, push, push... Just like Mom I was as fucking nasty as could be...poke, poke, poke... Then SLAM!
It would begin and then it could be “all his fault,” right? “Look what you did to me you bastard!”
But, really I was pushing, well aware that the son-of-a bitch I was tangling with would beat the shit out of me in a hot second and yet, I would push anyway. Crazy? Yes, yes very. But that’s me.
Once I recognized my inherited ability, among others, I learned back off. Now, when I meet one of those really exciting, rough boys I tend to stay away... or at least not stay long. Heh.
My face is far too pretty for bruises. I don't much enjoy trying to beat off a guy twice my size either, although I used to... I used to love it. Hmm, actually I kinda’ still love it.
Now you know a little more about me. Not such a pretty side is it? Heh. I'm not so bad really...
Most people love me once they get to know me. I swear they really do... Of course only if you can get past my poison leaves, smart mouth and bad attitude, and a few other interesting qualities.
I'm really sort of sweet in that sick and twisted kind of way. Stick around. You might be surprised.
Enough for now.
This Ivy girl has shit to do and your man to steal!
...Oh and Merry Fucking Christmas!
Ivy…
Where to begin... Ah yes, I have the ability to drive a man to hit me.
Does this surprise you? Heh... Probably not. It's not entirely my fault really, and no, I am not saying that women deserve to be hit or anything... well some women maybe.
Just fucking relax and let me see if I can lay it down for you further.
I told you all before that I didn't have the greatest home life. My parents, shit, my parents should NEVER have been together. My mother was a woman who never shut the fuck up when she was pissed. My father, well he knew how to shut her the fuck up, and I don't mean in a fun kinky kinda way.
Now don't get me wrong, it wasn't all bad. We had our fun times, family vacations etc. But, there were those times where she would start and wouldn't stop until he was beating the shit out of her and us kids would come running to the rescue. We took our fair share of lumps trying to pull that fucker off her.
Most times the argument would start off with her bitching at him about something he did or didn't do that she wasn't happy about.. Blah. Blah. Blah.
The fight would start and she would just be pecking at him. He would ignore her, or try to explain or yell back and eventually because she wouldn't stop he would lose it.
Believe me...most the time the shit spewing out of her head was excessive, abusive and utterly annoying.
He would always warn her though. "You better fucking stop. Enough!" he would say in that low deep growl that usually meant he was about to blow. Of course she NEVER listened to the warning. She would blow right past that with a “Fuck you,” or a “go Fuck yourself” and then it would start.
All hell would break loose in whatever room of the house they happened to be in and my sister and brother would come running and jump in the middle. Me, being too young, would watch with wide frightened eyes.
Happy fucking home don't ya think? Yeah... Not so much.
The point is, growing up like this does shit to you. Hell, having my mother’s genes does shit to you, too. For a long time you don't even know that it's not normal and that this sort of thing doesn't happen in all homes.
My sister is pretty fucked in the head and so am I, really. She is the one now that lunges for you when you say something she doesn't like, looking to slap or claw… or whatever works for her at the moment. My brother, surprisingly, is not a violent man.
Me... I'm the instigator. Just like my mother of course. That little realization of mine made me want to fucking hurl and would be another reason I don't bother with serious relationships. I also do my fair share of clawing, but only when necessary. Seems, its always necessary.
If a man has the slightest bit of a violent temper and you mix him with my brand of poison then what you end up with is one broken and bruised, Ivy. Until I retaliate, of course.
I have the ability to drive a man to the edge of hell and back and if he is a man who's a hitter? Well then there ya go.
But let me tell you, there is one significant difference between my mother and I. Believe it or not I do know how to shut my mouth now (sometimes). It took a few bruised cheeks and bloody noses when I was young to figure this out, and that fucker who punched me in the side of the head so hard I flew across the room still needs to get what’s coming to him. That fucking HURT!
The point is, I realized long ago that I shouldn't poke the bee-hive, at least not with my finger...maybe a long stick, wrapped in ivy and dripping honey. Ha Ha.
Okay, I know it’s not funny really, but it is a truth that many don't see.
There are plenty of fucks out there that are just straight up nasty. They hit for the sake of hitting and the women they are beating on are not at fault in any way. Then, there are the kind of situations I was telling you about.
In my head I guess I could explain it as a search for power and justification.
Push, push, push... Just like Mom I was as fucking nasty as could be...poke, poke, poke... Then SLAM!
It would begin and then it could be “all his fault,” right? “Look what you did to me you bastard!”
But, really I was pushing, well aware that the son-of-a bitch I was tangling with would beat the shit out of me in a hot second and yet, I would push anyway. Crazy? Yes, yes very. But that’s me.
Once I recognized my inherited ability, among others, I learned back off. Now, when I meet one of those really exciting, rough boys I tend to stay away... or at least not stay long. Heh.
My face is far too pretty for bruises. I don't much enjoy trying to beat off a guy twice my size either, although I used to... I used to love it. Hmm, actually I kinda’ still love it.
Now you know a little more about me. Not such a pretty side is it? Heh. I'm not so bad really...
Most people love me once they get to know me. I swear they really do... Of course only if you can get past my poison leaves, smart mouth and bad attitude, and a few other interesting qualities.
I'm really sort of sweet in that sick and twisted kind of way. Stick around. You might be surprised.
Enough for now.
This Ivy girl has shit to do and your man to steal!
...Oh and Merry Fucking Christmas!
Ivy…
Friday, November 27, 2009
Lessons learned
People fucking amaze me. They never fail to disappoint ya know?
Once upon a time this used to really bother me. My coat of leaves has thickened up a bit since then. Now I mostly just don't give a shit... and don't ask where that all came from ‘cause I have no idea. Just figured I would put it out there.
Let me tell you a story from my past…
I'm the kind of girl that fucks your boyfriend. Yeah, yeah, hate me if you want, but really it's very convenient for me. You get to keep your man, I get to get laid and go on about my business... it works for me.
No pressure, no "where are you going? Who are you talking to?" kind of bullshit. Seriously I don't want to keep him; I just want to borrow him for a little while. I seem to attract the taken ones like Bees to honey. I don't do it on purpose, don't seek them out. They just find me and well who am I to argue right?
I discovered that this kind of set up worked for me when I was still a teenager. I met this yummy treat one night while I was hanging out with my friends. He had a girlfriend and she was nowhere to be found. There we all were hanging out at the park outside our cars, smoking and chatting it up. He and I flirted quite a bit. Well shit, can you blame me he was positively edible.
That night I had to be home early. Stupid curfew; as if they thought that would stop me...Not likely.
I made a plan with him, told him to pick me up at the end of my street and I jumped out my window. Not an easy thing, mind you. I lived in a single story ranch house but it was on a sloped lot so jumping from my window was like jumping from the second story. I could get out easy enough but getting back in would be a problem.
So, hanging out my window I dropped to the ground and ran down the street. He picked me up and this began a long affair between us.. Nightly I would jump out of my window, he would pick me up we would go tumble in the sheets, sleep for a bit and then he'd bring me home. I would stand on his shoulders and climb back in my window... Hey it worked.
It did make getting up for school in the morning hard though. One night we overslept and it was light out already. According to the clock my mother was about to get up for work. She ALWAYS came into my room in the morning to close my window. I slept with it open, even in the winter.
So, we get up, get dresses and race like a bat out of hell to my house. Park down the street and RUN our asses off. He boosts me up, I climb in, leave the screen open praying to GOD she doesn't notice and hop into my bed fully dressed. Not two minutes later she wanders into my room, closes the window and walks back out. HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!!!! Yeah better be more careful.
So anyway, back to the boy-toy.
We ended up seeing each other for maybe the whole winter. It worked for me. I had no expectations of him. He had a girlfriend. She was away at college and used to come home on weekends.
He used to see me during the weekdays only. I had become the weekday girlfriend… OH HELL NO!
He tried to take me on a few dates like during normal hours; we did that a few times. One time he was housesitting for her parents while they were on vacation. He brought me over there and cooked me pepper steak and we had sex on their living room couch!
What a romantic he was huh?
Eventually I got bored. Really what was the point anymore?
I started dating other guys... I had a party at my house one night and the new guy I started hanging out with was there. The boy-toy showed up, got all bent out of shape. He actually stood on my porch and lectured me, was pissed at me because I was with another guy.
Can you believe that shit? I couldn't!
I stared at him just dumb founded, my mouth hanging open. All I could say was "Are you kidding me? You have a fucking girlfriend and it’s NOT me!"
One of my favorite sayings comes to mind. There's the door fucker, don't let it hit you in the ass!
We didn't see each other after that. I mean seriously the whole point in having a guy who already had a girl was so I wouldn't have to deal with the very same shit he just dished out to me. Amazing.
Needless to say from that point forward if I played with you and you had a girlfriend I didn't stick around for very long.. Whiny ass boys.. Pfftt... Lesson learned I think.
That's all for now... Just doing my part to ensure I educate the masses.
But tell me, do you hate me or love me?
Really I'm just curious!
Before you answer, remember I warned ya.
Ivy…
Once upon a time this used to really bother me. My coat of leaves has thickened up a bit since then. Now I mostly just don't give a shit... and don't ask where that all came from ‘cause I have no idea. Just figured I would put it out there.
Let me tell you a story from my past…
I'm the kind of girl that fucks your boyfriend. Yeah, yeah, hate me if you want, but really it's very convenient for me. You get to keep your man, I get to get laid and go on about my business... it works for me.
No pressure, no "where are you going? Who are you talking to?" kind of bullshit. Seriously I don't want to keep him; I just want to borrow him for a little while. I seem to attract the taken ones like Bees to honey. I don't do it on purpose, don't seek them out. They just find me and well who am I to argue right?
I discovered that this kind of set up worked for me when I was still a teenager. I met this yummy treat one night while I was hanging out with my friends. He had a girlfriend and she was nowhere to be found. There we all were hanging out at the park outside our cars, smoking and chatting it up. He and I flirted quite a bit. Well shit, can you blame me he was positively edible.
That night I had to be home early. Stupid curfew; as if they thought that would stop me...Not likely.
I made a plan with him, told him to pick me up at the end of my street and I jumped out my window. Not an easy thing, mind you. I lived in a single story ranch house but it was on a sloped lot so jumping from my window was like jumping from the second story. I could get out easy enough but getting back in would be a problem.
So, hanging out my window I dropped to the ground and ran down the street. He picked me up and this began a long affair between us.. Nightly I would jump out of my window, he would pick me up we would go tumble in the sheets, sleep for a bit and then he'd bring me home. I would stand on his shoulders and climb back in my window... Hey it worked.
It did make getting up for school in the morning hard though. One night we overslept and it was light out already. According to the clock my mother was about to get up for work. She ALWAYS came into my room in the morning to close my window. I slept with it open, even in the winter.
So, we get up, get dresses and race like a bat out of hell to my house. Park down the street and RUN our asses off. He boosts me up, I climb in, leave the screen open praying to GOD she doesn't notice and hop into my bed fully dressed. Not two minutes later she wanders into my room, closes the window and walks back out. HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!!!! Yeah better be more careful.
So anyway, back to the boy-toy.
We ended up seeing each other for maybe the whole winter. It worked for me. I had no expectations of him. He had a girlfriend. She was away at college and used to come home on weekends.
He used to see me during the weekdays only. I had become the weekday girlfriend… OH HELL NO!
He tried to take me on a few dates like during normal hours; we did that a few times. One time he was housesitting for her parents while they were on vacation. He brought me over there and cooked me pepper steak and we had sex on their living room couch!
What a romantic he was huh?
Eventually I got bored. Really what was the point anymore?
I started dating other guys... I had a party at my house one night and the new guy I started hanging out with was there. The boy-toy showed up, got all bent out of shape. He actually stood on my porch and lectured me, was pissed at me because I was with another guy.
Can you believe that shit? I couldn't!
I stared at him just dumb founded, my mouth hanging open. All I could say was "Are you kidding me? You have a fucking girlfriend and it’s NOT me!"
One of my favorite sayings comes to mind. There's the door fucker, don't let it hit you in the ass!
We didn't see each other after that. I mean seriously the whole point in having a guy who already had a girl was so I wouldn't have to deal with the very same shit he just dished out to me. Amazing.
Needless to say from that point forward if I played with you and you had a girlfriend I didn't stick around for very long.. Whiny ass boys.. Pfftt... Lesson learned I think.
That's all for now... Just doing my part to ensure I educate the masses.
But tell me, do you hate me or love me?
Really I'm just curious!
Before you answer, remember I warned ya.
Ivy…
Monday, November 16, 2009
What about it?
I figured I would give this blogging thing a try.
I'm not a writer but I am a damn good story teller. I don't care if it's not formatted right, don't care if you don't like it, either.
My grammar skills are for shit and the curse words coming out of my mouth will make a truck driver blush. And if you don't like that, there's the fucking door! Don't let it hit you in the ass!
So yeah now that we've got that out of the way, I'll tell you about me.
A not-so-typical (understatement) girl from a typical town back east. New England is what it's called. Not too far from New York City but not quite close enough to the richer parts they call "upstate".
Anyway…
Mom and Dad are divorced. Not a happy couple by any fucking stretch of the imagination. I got a brother and a sister, both older. My brother is the shit and my sister is a fucking bitch and so yeah... There ya have it.
I'm what you would call the "black sheep" or “raving one” of the family although my brother isn't far behind and sometimes he's ahead. My mother never lets me forget that I am just like my father. But clearly, I’m more like her than she realized.
"You're just like your fucking father" she would spat at me...
"Yeah? Well… Let me tell ya, you're the one who married the fucker not me!"
She's a real joy.. Fucking sweet as arsenic mixed in your fucking iced tea!
I like things like: Drinking, smoking, thigh high boots, tattoos, motorcycles... Shit like that, you get the idea. (Feels like I am filling out a personal add…fuck me)
I speak my mind so, be careful...I've got claws and they don't feel good unless you are into that sort of thing… Heh!
I'm a bad influence, poison… just like my name says. Lock your young sons and daughters up.
It's a rep I sort of grew into a long time ago and maybe I'll tell you some of those stories someday.
But, never forget, just when you think you are safe from the likes of me, I'll hunt you down and drink you up again, and again.
I think that's enough for one day. Good? Everyone fucking happy?
Great... Catch ya soon.
Ivy…
I'm not a writer but I am a damn good story teller. I don't care if it's not formatted right, don't care if you don't like it, either.
My grammar skills are for shit and the curse words coming out of my mouth will make a truck driver blush. And if you don't like that, there's the fucking door! Don't let it hit you in the ass!
So yeah now that we've got that out of the way, I'll tell you about me.
A not-so-typical (understatement) girl from a typical town back east. New England is what it's called. Not too far from New York City but not quite close enough to the richer parts they call "upstate".
Anyway…
Mom and Dad are divorced. Not a happy couple by any fucking stretch of the imagination. I got a brother and a sister, both older. My brother is the shit and my sister is a fucking bitch and so yeah... There ya have it.
I'm what you would call the "black sheep" or “raving one” of the family although my brother isn't far behind and sometimes he's ahead. My mother never lets me forget that I am just like my father. But clearly, I’m more like her than she realized.
"You're just like your fucking father" she would spat at me...
"Yeah? Well… Let me tell ya, you're the one who married the fucker not me!"
She's a real joy.. Fucking sweet as arsenic mixed in your fucking iced tea!
I like things like: Drinking, smoking, thigh high boots, tattoos, motorcycles... Shit like that, you get the idea. (Feels like I am filling out a personal add…fuck me)
I speak my mind so, be careful...I've got claws and they don't feel good unless you are into that sort of thing… Heh!
I'm a bad influence, poison… just like my name says. Lock your young sons and daughters up.
It's a rep I sort of grew into a long time ago and maybe I'll tell you some of those stories someday.
But, never forget, just when you think you are safe from the likes of me, I'll hunt you down and drink you up again, and again.
I think that's enough for one day. Good? Everyone fucking happy?
Great... Catch ya soon.
Ivy…
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