turning a ho into a housewife

for the purpose of this blog, i will be using the following definition of ho from urbandictionary.com: "a woman who uses her body...for material gain or to boost her own ego."


k, everyone all clear? alright, brace yourselves. i, the ranting kitchen bitch that you have come to know and love {i hope!}, was once a HO. while i never did straight out prostitution, i did bang a lot of guys. i'll explain why. 


you see, i used to be a fat girl. i was obese all through junior high. around the time i discovered weed and alcohol, i discovered anorexia as well.


of course, once the weight came off, i was suddenly visible to all the boys that had once ignored me. rather than enjoying this new attention, i was terrified. you see, despite my new figure, i was still that shy and insecure girl inside. as a result, i made a lot of bad choices. i didn't respect my own body, and would do ANYTHING to please ANY guy who so much as gave me the time of day. add in some substance abuse issues, and you can see that i was one motherfucker of a trainwreck.


fast forward 10 years. i am now a stay at home mom of 3 lovely children, and i have been with my darling {yet frequently infuriating} BF for 8 years. i am living proof that a ho can be a housewife.. a fucking damn good one too, if i may say so myself.


hey hey HEY! get the fuck back here and stop texting that skank!! i am NOT finished. 


FIRST OF ALL, not just ANY little slutmuffin that you pick up at the bar after she's finished blowing chunks on the dance floor can make this transformation. SECONDLY, not all chicks want settle down with one guy. some of my bitches just wanna have some fun. you know these chicks.. get in, get {me} off, get the FUCK out so i can watch my shows and fart whenever the fuck i want. last, but by no means least, not all of the undomesticated sex kittens out there are fucked in the head with issues like mine. some of them just like the cock, and lots of it. and there's nothing wrong with that. 


i guess what i'm trying to say is that there are perfectly valid reasons to be promiscuous, provided you respect yourself, be safe, and are doing it for YOUR pleasure. needless to say, i was doing it wrong. until BF came along, of course. following, you will find my theories on how he turned a ho {the kind that i was} into a housewife:


1. don't just fuck her, make love to her. {unless she's in the mood for a fuck}


2. help her see that her body is a beautiful thing, to be respected and worshipped for its power to give pleasure and life, not just a prop for the pleasure of others.


3. encourage her to voice her needs in bed, and make sure she has an orgasm first. some of us haven't discovered how much pleasure our bodies can bring us, after years of using it solely for the pleasure of others.

shit i want to do in 2012

so it's that time again. out with the old, in with the new, and all that clichéd bullshit. now i told myself i wouldn't do this, but FUCK. i'm bored as hell, sitting home on new year's eve and the kids are being disturbingly well behaved. LAPTOP TIME!! 

FUCK YEAH

so, i'm not going out and getting shitfaced tonight.. but that's ok. it's completely voluntary, unlike that time i was pregnant and spent new year's eve crying at home with my swollen feet elevated, feeling like a walrus. i am feeling blessedly unwalrus-like tonight, and actually looking forward to going to sleep and waking up feeling alive. 


all week, i mulled it over in my head. usually there's no question: it's new year's eve, go out, get shitfaced, start the new year with a KILLER hangover and looking like my makeup bag vomited on my face. this year, i'm pretty sure there's something wrong with my intestines, and after the 2 days of utter digestive HELL following my last bit of drinking, i decided to actually listen to my gut for once {teehee!!} and save the partying for all the young skanks ladies with the skinny jeans and flat tummies.


so instead of teetering around in a pair of sky-high heels and a short skirt, freezing my vagina right the fuck OFF, i'm compiling a list of shit i want to do this year. i don't like to call them resolutions because, well fuck, i just DON'T. it's just shit i want to do. either way, my vagina is happy, because it's not frozen to death.


1. GET HEALTHY, LIKE A FUCKING HORSE
so yeah, everyone says this, every fucking year. but i'm going to do it, goddammit! and not just because i want to fit into those sexy jeans that i LOVE but haven't been able to get past my thighs since '08. there's been a lot of deaths and heart attacks in my community over the past year or so, and like most other places in north america, obesity is an epidemic. 
i grew up a fat kid, i don't want that for MY kids. that shit is fucking hard. so i'm embracing this healthy lifestyle more and more, because i know that kids do what they see, and i doubt they'll be trying very hard to live an active lifestyle if all mommy does is eat chips, watch maury, and go completely fucking apeshit over naughty internet memes. 


2. GET ORGANIZED
this one might be tougher than the first. fuck, who am i kidding? it WILL be. and i say that not only because one of BF's pet names for me is "the clutter queen", but also because i have created several clutter-filled black holes in various locations around the house. of course, you wouldn't notice this shit if you walked in my front door any given day, but those black holes are there, living a life of their own and sucking in every loose sock and all-important doo-dad that strays too close to the opening of their swirling vortices. they can be found in the hall closet {which even I, the goddess of disorganization, is wary of approaching unarmed}, the cupboard above the fridge {the subject of many of BF's fuck-rants}, and in the boys' rooms {there is evil in those rooms that does not sleep!}. basically, the only thing that's keeping me off of hoarders is a couple of doors, a lack of animal and/or human feces, and the neat freak tendencies of poor, long-suffering BF. so yeah, i'm making a damn to-do list of de-cluttering and ATTACKING those trouble spots. 


3. GET A NEW COUCH
ok, so i have no hilarious explanation for this one. i just need a new couch because mine is a smelly old piece of shit. 




so that's all i got, folks. well not really. a bunch of other crazy shit went through my mind while writing down these 3 things. but 3 is a good, solid, safe, DO-ABLE number.. and that's all i'm committing to. and in case you haven't heard it yet {pfft yeah fucking right!}, have a safe and happy new year's eve, and may 2012 bring you lots of good things.. like bacon, moose meat, happy families, and dirty neanderthal sex in the mud.