The End

We have finally crossed the NaBloWriMo finish line! Doesn’t it feel great?

No, not really. I kind of feel like one of those marathon runners who can’t control their legs or bowels and collapses into a fecal-covered mess at the end.

According to my stats, the most popular post of the month was Deep Thoughts With Hugo. Typical.

My least popular post was If the Bra Fits which was about my chest and how I could not find a bra to fit it properly.

Thanks, Hugo.

I was curious to examine my writing this month so I stuck a bunch of passages into Wordle to create a word cloud. If you are unfamiliar with Wordle, the more you use a word, the bigger it will appear in your word cloud. I seem to be a big user of “just” and “fuck”

Since it is The End, I would be remiss if I didn’t thank my dear friend Jen of Sips of Jen and Tonic for agreeing to engage in this exercise of despair and masochism. I also like to thank rarasaur for organizing the Nano Poblano Team, a team of bloggers that I may now have the time to actually visit their blogs, BlogHer and YeahWrite.

And in conclusion, just fuck celebrity side butt.

 

 

 

Gift-Giving Tips

It is the time of year where giving is better than receiving and some such shit.

But what do you do if you’re stuck buying a gift for the person a) who has everything or b) you know very little about or c) I’m bored right now.

Here are some fantastic suggestions:

For the wine connoisseur and/or alcoholic:

Comes with $25 off coupon for Promises Rehab center.

For the water enthusiast and/or strangler

Waterproof stangler gloves.

For the sportsfan and/or person for whom life has no meaning:

For the time stickler and/or person you hate quite a bit, but are passive/aggressive about it

Only $2 at Walmart.

For the art collector and/or the person who posts inspirational posts constantly on Facebook

Other possible “f” woods: failure, forlorn, feeble-minded, fuck, fucknut, fart, fartnozzle, etc.

For the outsdoorsy sort and/or person who has trouble deciding on whether the knife or gun is the best murder weapon

And for the person who poops:

Merry Consumerism to all and to all a good buy!

*Thanks to the LTD Commodities website for providing all these fantastic gift ideas.

Speaker7 is nearly done with this daily posting nonsense and will soon find peace with her reindeer toilet paper holder. 

Hugo Gives Thanks

Hugo feels he has not been in the spotlight enough during the daily posting fecal maelstrom known as NaBloWriMo so I decided to let him share what he’s thankful for this Thanksgiving.

Okay. Not too creepy. I like the hat.

Aw, that’s kind of sweet, Hugo.

Okay, this is getting a bit weird.

Um…

Maybe talk about something else?

Ew.

Uh…

Okay, I’m going to stop this….what? You have one more, Hugo?

Fine. Go ahead.

Wonderful.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Speaker7 is engorging on gravy today, the greatest day of all. She has only a few posts left thank gravy!

Why I Don’t Participate in NaNoWriMo

For starters, I just went through the local shopping circular to find daily post ideas. Did you know that laundromat on Main Street offers free Tide on Tuesdays and Thursdays? Holy fuck that’s a good deal.

I tried NaNoWriMo once a long time ago when I was a wee lass filled with big dreams and hope. I lasted two days. I just don’t have the stamina for novel writing. I start strong, but  peter out, kind of like a Rand Paul speech before he lifts full paragraphs from Wikipedia and Ayn Rand’s LiveJournal.

I do have awesome book ideas so maybe you, one of my faithful readers, can take one of my ideas and make something out of it.

1. Fifty Shades of Twilight

Bellana Swansteele is a virginal factory worker in a silver bullet factory. Edwarstian Cullgrey is a wealthy werewolf. Bellana is inexplicably drawn to Edwarstian when he pisses a circle of urine around her.  They become lovers the night Edwarstian humps her leg vigorously, but will their love survive? Edwarstain can’t seem to stay off the furniture and eats the newspaper. Bellana has mousy brown hair, an inner goddess and a super vagina. She knows Edwarstian is dangerous because he sheds and claws up her couch. She believes her super vagina can change him for the better or at least train him to use the litter box. Holy cowshit!

2. The Next Gone Girl

I don’t really have anything more to add to this. I just figured any book that outright said it was the next Gone Girl  in the title would be an instant bestseller. Shit, you could probably make it about that laundromat offering free Tide on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Then have the Tide replaced by Gain to give it a twist.

3. The Bob Ross Code

Symbologist Tom Hanks discovers a murdered body by a velvet clown painting at the Antique Roadshow and thus uncovers a battle between the Scions of Elmo and the Muppets of Grover over the possibility that Snuffleupagus was really the son of Gordon. The velvet painting bears the inscription “happy little trees” which Hanks sees as a clue to solving the puzzle of Snuffleupagus’ paternity.

4. The Fat Games

This distopyian novel is set in the distant United States where obese people are put on display and subject to ridicule by a short, toned, shrieking thing called The Jillian. The Jillian forces the obese subjects to do push-ups on camera and strip down to their skivvies for the weekly weigh-in. She tortures them with platitudes like “Unless you puke, faint or die, keep going.” Will this boring nightmare ever end?

5. Men Are From Sportsland and Women Are From Menstruationland

Men and women are so different–it’s like they’re from other lands or planets even!?! Men like to hunt and rape bears while women like to sew and bathe in chocolate. Men eat batteries. Women drink buckets of orphan tears. Men like to dangle their dingles off bridges while women like to get paid less for the same job. Will these two genders ever see boob to eye?

So get writing….you just have to promise me 50% of the profits.

Speaker 7 is not writing a novel but is writing a post every day as part of the Nano Poblano Team. This may make a good novel idea….or not.

Sexiest Meat Bag Time

Oh gentle reader, I can’t tell you how much I look forward to this time of year.

There’s that special holiday, Black Friday’s Eve, when all the people come together and beat the shit out of each other at Walmart for a $2.00 Himalayan Salt Foot Detox:

And there’s the announcement of People magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive.

People has a knack for picking the blandest sexiest men alive–Bradley Cooper, Ryan Reynolds. I believe one year, People actually selected a roll of paper towels, Brawny® brand of course.

This year People has outdone itself by choosing the amazingly douchey Adam Levine.

Don’t believe me?

When one is crowned King Beefcakefishsteak, one gets to pontificate on why one is so beefcakefishsteak.

Actual quote from the article.

We get to learn about all of Adam’s tattoos. He got a dove five days after the September 11th terrorist attacks because…he’s a douche. A patriotic douche, but a douche nonetheless.

He doesn’t do tattoos below the waist because “you can’t do the hands; that’s sacred too. That’s what you make things with.”

If you are unfamiliar with Adam’s celebrity, he is a songwriter. He is not a brain-damaged umbrella stand. I can understand if you are confused.

He claims he wrote the best lyric at 20. It was:

“Old MacDonald had a douche. Ding-dong Ding-dong-o”

I’m joking.

It was:

“If I could bottle up the chills that you give me, I would keep them in a jar next to my bed.”

I am not kidding.

When I was 7, I was in a band with my two cousins called The Three Night Waves. We sang a song that went like this:

We’re the three night waves

the three night waves

the three night waves

for you and us

for all of us

That song is infinitely better.

According to Adam, you can best convey what you want with what you say.

Genius really, and all this time I’ve been conveying my wants through crop circles.

Adam believes in waxing his arms and frequent massaging because he works out so much, but draws the line at mani-pedis because “you’ve got to retain some sort of masculine characteristics. You can’t trim yourself into a tizzy and become a woman.”

True, but you can say things that transform yourself into a monumental douche.

Speaker7 is still plugging along as a member of the Nano Poblano Team. She’s sorry if you think Adam Levine is sexy, but seriously? He seems like an incredible assface douchecanoe. 

To Sleep Perchance to Dream

I realize children are our future and we should teach them well and feed them on our dreams, and a smile from a child is a package of sunshine and unicorn farts.

Terrific.

But my little package of sunshine and unicorn gas has been in the habit of yelling my name in the middle of the night with an invitation “to come sleep with me” in his twin bed, which really means “no sleep for hours then when I finally sneak back into my bed, a 30-minute respite before the next primal scream and  I relent and just let him sleep in my goddamn bed.”

All this after me or my husband begin the night lying awake in his bed until he falls asleep, and realizing my child has a later bedtime than me.

Nightime is beginning to resemble that surreal hellscape I stumbled through when I was a barely function bag of cells “mothering” a newborn baby.

This morning I had a lengthy discussion about the merits of phrenology to detect lice when it became clear that  a) I don’t know what phrenology is and b) I was actually talking to the coffeemaker.

There is a reason sleep deprivation is such an effective torture technique.

I vaguely recall my smug, child-free self boldy declaring “I would NEVER let my child sleep in my bed” when I would hear of parents getting kicked in the face multiple times by a child sleeping perpindicular to them.

I also vaguely remember rambling on about how I would never cook separate meals for my kid and he would just “eat what I’m eating.”

Aw, sweet, young Speaker7, you dumb fuck, you.

I’ve consulted all the experts like the random people who somehow have time to answer questions on wikianswers:

My options are limited. I could keep things as is and die earlier from it, but at least that’s sort of a type of sleep. I could engage in a nighttime battle with a victor who has more energy stores than the hottest part of the sun. Or I could spend the time making out with Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice because I swear he was just in my kitchen a second ago talking to Kato Kaelin about O.J. Simpson’s latest book “Okay I did It.”

It’s likely karmic retribution. I slept in my parent’s room so much, they kept a mattress tucked under their bed. I had convinced myself I was going to be murdered in my sleep. Amityville Horror may not be the most comforting bedtime story.

In fact, the last time I slept on my parent’s floor was when I was 23 and home for a visit. I had mistakenly assumed I could handle a viewing of the movie Scream without thinking I would be the next to be gutted and strung up a tree by Ghostface. After a fitful night of continually turning on my light, I gave in and curled up on the floor of their room only to slink out early in the morning.

So judging by my track record, only 20 more years of this. That third option is looking pretty good.

Speaker7’s bout of sleep deprivation is only making the experience of posting daily as a member of the Nano Poblano Team even more sheep. When I move my hand slowly in front of my face, I can see leprechauns. 

Breaking Sex News

I really have to thank Alice for the generation of this post, the 20th in this santorum festival known as NaBloWriMo.

If you are a regular reader, you know I cobbled together a post on unfinished posts that languish in my WordPress draft folder because the ideas…yup, the ideas are dead. I didn’t think there was more to Breaking Sex News than the weird Breaking Sex News banner on The Huffington Post on Swedes yanking it in public.  I even tried to find more, but could only find this:

That is fucking incredible, but where is the breaking sex news!?! Then Alice reminded me of the go-to source for all breaking sex news–Cosmopolitan magazine.

For instance, did you know, gentle reader, that there is such a thing as “celebrity side butt”?

How marvelous! And newsy.

So what is Celebrity Side Butt? the masses desperately want to know.

It is incredibly scientific. “Side Butt” occurs when a celebrity is sans underwear and wears a dress that proves that theory. For example,  a² – b² = partial ass.

Cosmo includes a photoessay of our most famous examples of that theorem in action.

But what if I’m not a Celebrity Side Butt, but am looking for ways to sexify my relationship? is likely what you’re thinking right now.

Well, I have the hot scoop–there are 75 crazy-hot sex moves that can sexify pretty much anything from the secret Santa office party to your Aunt Bertha’s wake.

You may be under the assumption that sex is where that thing goes into that slot and then retreats and then goes back and then there’s a charley horse and then there’s the looking at the clock because Grey’s Anatomy is going to be on any second and then there’s the quick prayer to god about somebody finishing and then someone groans and now you can finally have some peace and watch TV.

Well there’s more, gentle reader, 75 more things to be exact.

For instance, you can “straddle your guy, then lean forward and rest your upper body on his torso. Bring one leg out to the side, and bend it so that the inside of your leg is against the bed. Then straighten the other leg and slide it between his legs” and if you can explain to me how this exactly works because of my spatial difficulties and inability to understand poor writing, I will be grateful…and hot.

You could also: “try side-saddle position for a more unique and snug fit. Make a bridge with your arms behind you on one side of him and your legs in front of you on the other.” I’m thinking the author of this just began consulting her “Odyssey of the Mind” handout from 6th grade. Herman Melville’s Moby Dick is a literary masterpiece. Create Ishmael’s boat only using the parts from a vacuum cleaner. Now make it sexy.

Or you could: “build momentum by keying in to an ocean legend that the seventh in a series of sea waves is the strongest” because clearly the author has started to lose her erection at the 25th crazy-hot sex move and has no clue what the fuck to write. Why not add something like “Goldilocks the moment by making his dick too hot, then too cold and then just right. First pour molten steel on his member, followed by Coleman’s Chiller and then warm it up with a hair dryer.”

Or if you’re tired just “trade butt-cheek massages” and extra bonus if it is a celebrity side butt.

News.

Breaking sex news for that matter.

For fuck’s sake, are there seriously 10 days left? Fuck. Anyway, Speaker7 is writing every day this month as a member of the Nano Poblano Team. 

Fifty Shades of Movie Magic

I was delighted when I saw the latest issue of Entertainment Weekly:

Finally, the first of many issues heralding the arrival of this movie. Being a big fan of the books, I tore through the magazine pages, reading voraciously and savoring every morsel I could.

I understand it will be difficult to condense E.L. James 600-paged behemoth down to a two-hour film. Will they cut out one of the 1,200 email exchanges? Or one of the 4,507 times Christian orders Ana to eat? Or one of the 35,678 times Christian remarks on Ana’s wetness.

God, I hope not.

In the magazine, the stars were interviewed about their thoughts on the film.

For the uninitiated, Fifty Shades of Grey is a steamy trilogy about a virginal sockpuppet who falls in love with a controlling oil-retention enema. They murmur and stick things in holes. It’s awesome or–to use Virginia of Lame Adventures, new word for “awesome”– semi-flaccid.

Semi-flaccidly enough, my copy of Entertainment Weekly happened to include a few pages of the script. I first inserted a butt plug into my ear canal to further cement the brain damage I underwent from reading the books and began to read.

Oh my, gentle reader, oh my.

Prepare to be shaded by some grey, whatever the fuck that means.

First Scene:

Ana and Christian’s first meeting

Ana and Christian’s Interaction at Claytons Hardware

I give this film two thumbs up the butt!

Speaker7’s inner goddess is responsible for this post even though her inner goddess is not a member of the Nano Poblano Team. 

Home Again Home Again Jiggety Jig

Well fuck a duck, I am back in the world I belong.

The real one?

With people? And their breathing? And farting?

Awful.

It’s just too much arm flesh and air molecules and tote bags. We are much safer here, readers. Let’s never leave again.

I have a few stories from my roadtrip to the “Insurance Capital of the World” where I librarianed it up for 2.5 days that I wanted to share with you because duck a fuck, this month will never end.

I got to see Jon Scieszka in person!!!! Squeee!!!

And–I shit you not–but I got Adam Gidwitz’s autograph!

It’s likely you have no idea who I’m talking about (Alice might), but to a pack of middle-aged librarians, these guys are the the 12-year-old girl’s version of One Direction.

Jon Scieszka wrote The True Story of the Three Little Pigs and The Stinky Cheese Man and Other Fairly Stupid Tales, which if you haven’t read, you must read now.

Go.

You don’t have either? Go to your library then.

Yes I mean right now.

Okay, are you done?

Rock star, right?

Adam Gidwitz wrote my favorite new series A Tale Dark & Grimm, in which he basically un-Disneyfies all these Grimm tales and we get back to the head removal and children eating.

In other conference news, I was woken from a crappy sleep at 2:30 a.m. by a man, and I believe, two women drunkenly trying to get into the room next door. It appeared from my vantage point in front of the peep hole that they could not conquer the difficult task of inserting the key card into the key slot so that other things could be inserted into other slots.

It also appeared as if the bloke did not know the two women (or woman) all that well although one attempted to mount his back several times. She then would let out a peal of laughter that caused my teeth to rattle out of my head and drop to the floor.

I thought to myself: Was I going to audibly witness my first threesome?

After what appeared to be 20 minutes, the guy opened the door and pushed the woman or women inside and said good night.

A minute or so later, one of the room’s occupants attempted to get out again, but was stymied by the door latch. She gets an A for effort though since she bashed that door against the doorframe about 50 times.

Travel fun!

Speaker7 is glad to be back home with consistent Internet access so she can continue to churn out slop posts as a member of Nano Poblano Team. Only 13 left to go!

Jesus…is that true?

First Lady Speaker7’s Initiative

As you may remember, my husband recently won a seat on our legislative body.

This makes me the First Lady-elect of my town.

It has already affected me in many ways. For instance now I’m slightly embarrassed when I’m approached by a constituent in the supermarket and I’m wearing sweatpants covered in dinner stains and cannot remember the last time I ran a brush through my hair. I figure I can correct this with a strand of pearls or a pillbox hat.

I also am aware I need to champion a cause. Michelle Obama has Let’s Move, a campaign designed to improve our health. Laura Bush started the National Book Festival to promote literacy. Nancy Reagan just said no a lot about something…I think fried eggs?…the 80s are very cloudy.

I have to keep in mind that for the most part I prefer little to no social interaction and I lose interest quickly if presented with something shiny like a pinwheel so I need to pick something that will not take a lot of effort.

So my cause is to eradicate certain expressions from the English language. . . just sayin’.

Speaker7’s Let’s Never Use These Words Again First Lady Initiative:

1. Just Sayin’.

As in: I just said this. . .  just sayin’. Ooh…thanks for clearing up that you were just saying something. I wasn’t quite sure what was happening when your mouth was moving and the sound was coming out. I thought that you were about to birth the next Athena from your forehead, but you were talking?

Here’s the thing, I know that you just said something because you fucking just said something.

2. YOLO

In a way I’m grateful that I only live once so I don’t have to go through another lifetime hearing this fucking phrase. This is just a way for people to excuse their idiocy.

3. I’m not a racist but. . .

Invariably something racist ALWAYS follows the expression “I’m not racist but. . .” All this qualifier does is broadcast that something pretty racist and terrible is coming soon. For example “I’m not racist, but yogurt is my favorite food.” And now I can’t eat yogurt anymore because you’ve just made it racist.

Same thing for “I’m not sexist but. . .”

4. No offense

This expression is used when you absolutely do mean to offend someone, but want the appearance of politeness. For example “No offense, but I think you and all your family members including your ancestors and future descendants are pieces of shit” seems far more polite than “You’re a piece of shit,” but no less offensive.

5. Totes

Really? I could get it if “totally” had the same number of syllables as supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, but it’s just two more measly syllables. I could see if you had just stuck your tongue to a frozen pole during a YOLO moment and it hurts to talk, but otherwise just say the whole word please or else I will totes punch you in the face.

6. Donald Trump

I feel with great certainty that if we stop saying his name, he will go away. Like a dung beetle drawn to a fragrant cowpie, The Donald is drawn to the media limelight. Or we can call him Donald Dump because that amuses me.

What words or expressions do you hate?

Speaker7 is totes writing a daily post during this month as a member of Nano Poblano because you only live once. . .just sayin’. Get ready for First Half-Man Puppet Hugo’s Initiative.