Fun in the Ford

The first time I ever tried anal sex, it was in the back of my boyfriend's dad's Ford Explorer, in a field, in the middle of the winter.

I remember he'd wanted to try it for a while, but I'd been iffy. To me, that's an out hole, and I was already feeling skanky enough just fooling around in the backseat of his dad's car. I was still getting used to the fact that I was having sex (a lot of sex), and so for him to want to try this new, scarier sex was weird. But, I agreed, my line of thought being that if it really hurt or was just too awkward, I'd tell him to stop, and let that one go into the "been there, done that" pile.

So we're out in this snowy field, he's taken me there because it's really pretty in the winter, and we're fooling around in the back of this SUV. He didn't use a condom, and he came in my ass, which felt absolutely DISGUSTING, let me tell you. And then, after he finishes and wipes his dick off in the snow, and I crawl back into the front seat, we realize we are stuck. In the mud/snow, in his father's truck, in a field.

I'm wiggling around, trying to get comfortable in the seat, because my ass feels turned inside out and wayyy too sensitive, and he's calling his father, who is at poker night, to come rescue us. Perfect.

His dad shows up, and we have to get out of the truck and walk to get the forklift. Walking felt even more repulsive than sitting, and I was hoping his dad wouldn't notice how tortured my face was. Thankfully, I seem to be a good actress. We get the forklift, and I have to ride the back of that thing all the way back to the truck, which also felt great.

And then, to put the cherry pop on the night I lost my anal virginity, my boyfriend's father dents the front of the truck with the forklift. He was driving it in loafers, and he and the boyfriend decided that the best way to get the truck out was to push the front with the forklift, and to put the truck in reverse and back out of the hole.

When bf's dad pulled the lift away, something flew off the front of the truck, which I thought was one of his loafers, but it turned out to be the Ford badge from the grille. There was also a dent. Super. I wasn't sure whether to laugh about the loafers, or cry about my poor stretched out, cum-dripping ass. I went with laughter and had about a stroke laughing at the sight of the badge flying off into the night.

I have that badge right now. I made it into a belt buckle. Just as a memento.

I need a man.

*He needs to have dark hair, light eyes, be at least 6'3", and of medium build.

*He needs to share his clothes with me.

*I need to be able to be completely myself around him.

*He needs to be musical or poetic, preferably both.

*He needs to be pierced and tattooed.

*He needs to be a wildchild.

*He needs to be playful and want to throw me in the pool.

*He needs to have similar musical taste to me.

*He should want to have sex to the Beatles, like I do.

*He should be a skater or a surfer.

*He needs to take me in his arms and make the bad parts of the world go away.

Idol Worship

Why do all the celeb rags insist on using pictures like this:

of Courtney Love, Amy Winehouse, and Anna Nicole Smith?

Honestly, get the fuck over yourselves, you don't look good all the time either. These are strong, beautiful, talented women. They're people too, y'all. They're celebrities just as much as Beyonce or Britney (who needed rehab, too, might I add, and you welcome her back in your good graces sooo easily) or Paris. They have fans. I'm one of them. Give me whatever shit you want for that, I can handle it. And I'll keep defending them til my fingers are worn to the bone and you're all out of arguments. No doubt you'll stoop to insulting me then, but whatever, I've still won, I'm still the bigger person.

Thankfully, the shit surrounding Anna Nicole seems to have gone down since she died. At least the vultures have respect for the dead, I guess.  Yeah, she was a porn star. Okay? There are a lot of porn stars. It's a huge industry. You make your money your way, she made hers her way. No reason to freak out. She was also a Trimspa poster girl, so her body was her temple. Get over it, she was beautiful and she knew it and used it to make money. Case closed. RIP, Anna Nicole.

There's been some shit lately about Courtney Love's blog, and the way she writes. Fuck off, she writes like Kurt did, and they PUBLISHED his journals. If people want to pay to read journals that "need to be translated," they sure as hell can read them for free online. You write the way you want. Courtney will just keep writing the way she does. She just throws her thoughts down in the order they go, so what? She lost her husband, people. The father of her daughter, the person she vowed she'd be with forever. Could you handle that? I don't think so. I know I couldn't. And even if you did get over it, it would not be pretty, and it would not be clean or quiet. She dealt with it in her way, with the paparazzi and people like you diving down her throat. I applaud her. You go, girl.

I don't get the Amy hate either. Yeah, she does drugs. So? So did John Lennon. So did countless other "heroes" of society. You let them off the hook, why not Amy? She won't go to rehab? Is that really your business? She doesn't want to upend her life any more. Her husband's in jail, she's deeply, passionately, crazy in love with him. She misses him. She's bored cooped up in her house all the time, we all know she can't leave her house without being attacked by the paps. And leave her alone for hanging out with Pete Doherty, they're friends. Must you be so fifth grade about it, that girls and boys can't be friends without dating? Please. If you bothered to look, it's obvious she's wholly devoted to Blake. She's not cheating. Leave Amy alone. She didn't do anything to you.

Let Courtney and Amy live their lives. Save your negativity. Hating makes you fat, you know.

2009.

My resolutions for 2009 are:

*stop shopping as much,

*locate more fun,

and

*keep my room cleaner.