All of you can SUCK IT!

It's been a week. And I am fed up! All of you can suck it:


-MY SINUSES
I divorce you! I divorce you! I divorce you! I divorce you! Your primary function is to allow me to BREATHE. If you don't let me breathe, why should I let you tag-a-long for the a free ride? For the past 8 days you wake me up feeling like a squirrel landed on my face and dug its claws into my head. On a good day, you make me feel like my brain is trying to escape my skull. Either way, you aren't doing your job! Sinuses, you can suck it!

I divorce you! I divorce you! I divorce you!

-DAYQUIL
How the FUCK are you legal? When I take you, my brain stops working and the rest of my body feels like it's all floaty. When nighttime rolls around I can't sleep. I should start selling this on the corners-I could use the extra cash. Dayquil, you are the new crack. You make me feel worse albeit barely functional and give me weird shakes. Dayquil, you can suuuuuuck it! And your evil twin, Nyquil, is even worse! What's with the weird hallucinations? Both of you can suuuuuck it!!!!

CRACK you are CRACK!!!!! 

-Starcrack Barista
Gulp! I ran out of espresso at my 'big girl job. Being the caffeine junkie that I am, I had to find the nearest caffeine dealer and shamefully walked into the corner Starcracks.  I neeeeeeeeed my fix *insert neck scratching*. Starcrack Barista-you can't pull a decent shot of espresso and I REFUSE to call your "Small" cup "Tall": don't tell me about trip to Napa Valley. I DON'T CARE! Give me my fix! You can't pull a decent shot of espresso or steam milk even if your life depended on it! Shut the hell up and do your job!


-The word 'EPIC' and any users of the word


The word 'EPIC' has been thrown around quite loosely as of late. Every Friday night is now referred to as "epic". Do not use the word 'epic' unless Friday night was a truly a heroes journey worth of a literary recognition. I KNOW your Friday night consisted of drinking Bud Light and endless banter about all the chicks you didn't bang but pretended you did. Your night wasn't "epic" and nor are you! If you use the word epic, you can suck it, cuz I know no one is sucking yours anyways.

NOT EPIC!

*Wow* I feel much better!


-Raquel

I Beg You Adieu, Bottom Feeder!

Dear Tranny Whore Cunt Slut,

You think you are a hot Barbie doll, but you are just the 99cent store cheap imitation at the bottom of the toy box that no one would dare be seen playing with.

You brag about being a leach sucking money from your boyfriend while you sit on the couch all day and snort it away. If you had any brains at all you would realize that people envy achievements and accomplishments. Being a leach is easy. Being something great takes work.

You lie to yourself daily basis to make yourself feel better. No one blames you for feeling like shit. You are a piece of shit. But you can't be offended when someone calls you out on your bullshit.

You get naked for anyone that will look to boost your ego. If you were a sight to be seen, people would want to look at you for an ego boost. Yet, no one ever admits to being your voyeur.

Those that have been sucked into you and by you hang their heads down in shame. They wouldn't touch you with a ten foot pole sober.

So you see we cannot be friends. We are just not at the same level. I am an independent intelligent woman and you are a bottom feeder.

So this is my good-bye letter. Good-bye tranny whore cunt slut. May you never infect my life again!

xoxo,

Sadie

PROFILE: Sweet Lil Carrie Artist and Tattoo Apprentice

I met Carrie at an Artifact Tattoo party at a dive bar. I went that night because I heard that there were free shots of Sailor Jerry Rum Sailor Jerry Rum. I like rum.

You met Carrie here Wearing This Corset Takes Balls - one of the most viewed posts on Slinky-Like Stealth Blog.

Sweet Lil' Carrie's Corset Piercing

If you look closely enough, Carrie's corset is comprised of: multiple back piercings, a white ribbon and a touch of fresh blood.

Carrie, an artist and tattoo apprentice, has bigger balls than most. Plus, she is cute as hell. I decided to see if she would let me interview her to see what life is like as an artist and tattoo apprentice. She said YES! 

Carrie's dermal anchors-cuz she's that bad-ass

I will admit there are a few places where I feel a wee bit nerdy and my self-image of 'pseudo-cool' is challenged. A tattoo shop is one of them. Plus, this was my first real interview!

I interviewed Carrie at Artifact Tattoo in Santa Clarita-a Los Angeles suburb-the shop where she practically lives at. No one yelled at me and said: "Who is that person? She is NOT cool enough to be here! Get out!" Instead, everyone was friendly and I was escorted to a quiet room blasting the soothing sounds of Tool. Ahhhhh, home!

my super cool shoes and socks

Carrie: Tell me about the corset piercing you were wearing the first time I met you

 Chris pierced me. He has been piercing for 6 years, so it took him only 5 minutes. Getting pierced didn't hurt. Very few people can do a corset piercing right, but Chris is an expert. I was really excited to be able to wear it that night! My biggest fear was that I would accidentally get caught on somebody and accidentally rip out the piercing. 

How long did you keep it in?

I had them removed that same night. Your body reject piercings in your back very quickly. Getting them removed was painful. It felt like when you take off a sweaty sports bra*.

*I take off sweaty sports bras all the time. They never hurt, although sometimes they suction themselves to my boobs, which is annoying, but not painful. I suspect that Carrie's tolerance for pain is a wee bit different than mine. Anyone up for me removing their sweaty sports bra to test pain level?

Do you have any scars from the corset piercing?

Nah. It looked like I had been stapled on my back for awhile though.

Would you do it again?

Definitely!

Have you always been an artist?

Yes! I have been drawing forever, my grandmother taught me.

Painting by Carrie Cameron

When did you decide that flesh was your medium?

I was attracted to the idea that my art could live on a person rather than be framed in a canvas. As an artist, I made al living working retail and hated it. I wanted to be a tattoo artist. I bought myself a tattoo kit online and tattooed myself when I was 18. After going balls-out on my own thighs, I decided that this was the career for me and that I needed to go pro. I had to find myself a mentor.

One of Carrie's first tattoos

How long have you been a tattoo apprentice?

I apprenticed for 4 months. I am working on my final piece and continue to work under my mentor, Justin Lewis. Technically, I am now a working tattoo artist. I have been for a month. 

Carrie working on her 'final'

What inspires you as an artist?

My mentor, Justin. He is amazing, he has been a tattoo artist for, like, 20 years.

How do you feel about Reality shows like LA Ink ?

I feel that it has made this art form accepted by more people and accessible to many.

What are some things that you don't like about tattooing?

People have the opportunity to be creative, yet many go to a shop and point at a picture on the wall. Millions of people are walking around with the same exact tattoo. They wasted an opportunity to carry a unique piece of art with them for the rest of their lives. Or some people just want some really stupid things like "Skeet Skeet" tattooed on their lips. Some people can get pretty nasty and forget that this is art that they will have for the rest of their lives. 

I've noticed most tattoo artists are men. As a woman, does that mean you have to work harder to prove yourself?

There is a stigma against female artists. It's perceived that a woman in a shop will be drama. Tattoo artists  mean business. There isn't time for drama. For me, it just means that I need to continue learn and strive to be better and I need to work hard to prove myself, regardless of my gender.

To Carrie's career, I *bow* and say, "I wish you success."And I have this tattoo that needs to get fixed!

Respect!

Raquel  

Guest Post: "Did my uterus text you?"

As a 30-something married woman, I have grown accustomed to the following question:

"When do you plan on having kids?"

I typically brush off the question. This is a serious and personal question, and quite frankly, not something that you should ask a stranger.  It's not the same as asking: "Where did you get those shoes?"

What drives me up the wall is when a complete stranger asks my age, my marital status, then deduces that I am childless and proceeds to inform me that I have a deadline to produce children.

Who gave YOU the right to give my uterus a deadline?

Turn 30. Insert Quarter. Produce child.

This question is as intrusive as asking: "When is the last time you over-drew your bank account?" or "When did you take a shit?" better yet,  "So, do you like it in the ass, or what?"

The questioning began the very day I turned 30. At a bar! My 30th birthday was blissfully blurry. I only remember 2 things: I lost my favorite pink Chanel lipgloss, and what the bartender with the low-cut shirt said when I ordered my 4th mojito.

"Happy birthday! How old are you?", cute bartender.

"30!!!"

"Oh, wow, you only have 5 years left to get pregnant."

What? Bartender. Serve me my drink. Shut up and earn your tip. If you want a bigger tip, bat your lashes. Only open your mouth to ask: "did you want another?"; "shall I put this on your tab".

If you DO open your mouth, make sure it is to say something so flattering that I will add another 5% to your tip. May I suggest: "You look too young to be 30!"?

Do not, however, share your opinions about my childbearing years. Did your Bartending Degree come with a Minor in Uterus-Whispering? In the rare case that your have a minor in Uterus-Whispering Studies, perhaps I would indulge you and listen to your opinions about when I should bear children.

Cesar-Now The Uterus Whisperer

Strangers think it is their god given right to comment on my choice to remain childless into my 30's. Granted, I took the road most traveled. I went to college and earned my degree. I worked hard to take myself on vacation, buy nice wine and take an occasional weekend in Vegas with the girls. During all of this, I met a man that I fell in love with whose faults I accept-even if  he doesn't put the toilet seat down. We got married and moved to the 'burbs to live in a 2-story house that we can barely afford.

As a married, thirty-something woman, it is expected that I pop out 2.5 children, a dog, a mini-van and a white picket fence from in between my legs-hopefully not all at the same time!

That's 2.5 kids plus a boat! From her crotch!!!

At a work event, which involved copious amounts of wine consumption, my colleagues welcomed a new member to the team. The "new girl" asked me, "Are you married?"

"Yes!"

Wait.  For.  It.  Waaaaaaiiiiit!

"When are you having children?"

I really wanted to say "So, do you like it up the ass?", but instead, I responded politely "Not yet". She sipped more wine and asked the inevitable: "How old are you?"

"33"

"Oh, wow. Well you better hurry. You only have until 35"

This was a logical segway for my drunken colleagues to begin detailed discussions of pregnancy, childbirth and in-vitro fertilization. Note: These are not topics for polite conversation, nor should they be discussed while enjoying a fantastic bottle of Pinot Noir. They women detailed stories about freakish multiple births, like Jon and Kate Plus EIGHT.

In Vitro = Freak Family

Freakish multiples is the stuff horror films are made of. This is the reason I always keep tylenol in between my knees, to prevent multiple freak-show births.

The next time someone reminds me that I must procreate asap, this will be my response:

Has my uterus been texting you? Did my uterus tweet ya? Did my uterus Facebook you and say "it's time"?

You are a fucking stranger. Shut the hell up and don't tell me what to do with my uterus. 

My Uterus Hasn't Told Me When. Why Don't You Ask HER?????

Happily Childless and 30-Something,

Suburban Housewife