So, I’ve been contemplating what and how to write as I work on my journey to prove I can write something better than a lot of that crap I read see for sale on the eBook websites.

Don’t get me wrong, there is good stuff out there too, but really! The state of erotica today seems to be PORN. There is nothing erotic about it. It doesn’t make me feel tingly and excited anymore than the posters hanging in my doctor’s office do.

In fact, the overuse of vulgar terminology really is a turn off for me. I get that some people like the words. It makes them feel ‘dirty’ in a good way. They feel like they are doing something they shouldn’t and it’s exciting.

Not for me. I feel like I’m reading about foul mouthed badly behaved children acting like monkeys whacking off in a zoo. There is nothing there for me.

What I do need, is the sense of wonder and freedom I had when I was a teenager. You know, that two weeks before I found out I was pregnant and had to get married?

I want to feel the romance. I want to get excited when people finally kiss, not when a random stranger says “I’ll do ya.”

I want to feel like that girl on the bridge in the picture at the top of this page feels.  If I can make that happen in a book, I will be a better writer than 99% most of the stuff I have read the last few years.

Okay.

So I think I mentioned my neighbor is a writer.  Don’t say I haven’t mentioned her at all, because I know I have. She’s the one who did the flabulous artwork of me and my martini.

Anyway. We were bickering the other day, you know they way only real friends can, and somehow somebody opened up their mouth and said they could probably write a better book than she could.

So.

Um.

When I get done, I will have to ask you guys what you think.

Assuming there are any of you guys out there. I don’t think anyone has ever looked at my website but me. Maybe I should xerox my ass and put it up here to see if anyone ever notices.

But they beat me down.  48 spam messages in less than 12 hours was too much. Screw them. They won. Nobody gets to leave messages anymore. Shit. That sucks.

Well. Okay. Since you twisted my arm. If you really want to leave a comment, e-mail me, and if you’re not a spamming robot ho ass jerk dillweed booger nugget, I’ll post it for you.

Meanwhile, just in case anyone ever wanted to remember the good old days when Jane answered her spam, here was a sample:

4 thoughts on “Hello Vodka!”

1. Hi, this is a comment.
   To delete a comment, just log in and view the post’s comments. There you will have the option to edit or delete them.

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   1. I can’t figure out how to delete the damn comment. So I just added another one instead.

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1. You need targeted visitors for your website so why not get some for free? There is a VERY POWERFUL and POPULAR company out there who now lets you try their traffic service for 7 days free of charge. I am so glad they opened their traffic system back up to the public! Sign up before it is too late: http://axr.be/17r1

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   1. Hi Betty! I Like your name. I’m sure we’d have a great time together. You could always ask me where Tarzan is, and I could tell you he was out banging Barney.

2 thoughts on “What My Best Friend Thinks Of Me”

1. I take pleasure in, lead to I discovered just what I used to be looking for. You have ended my 4 day long hunt! God Bless you man. Have a great day. Bye
   [url=http://www.tokugwa.com]

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   1. Great! God Bless you too, man. For pleasure took I in having followed in front to that which not yet found you had. The four day hunt ends with feast for soul. Bye.

      4 thoughts on “Vodka! Vodka! Vodka! Tequila!”

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         1. You’re gonna have to wait. I’ve already got this shanghai massage thing lined up. Unless a beijing massage involves two masseuses?

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         1. Hmmm. Have you been drinking brake fluid again?

             

            2 thoughts on “Dinosaur Sex”

            1. Hello Web Admin, I noticed that your On-Page SEO is is missing a few factors, for one you do not use all three H tags in your post, also I notice that you are not using bold or italics properly in your SEO optimization. On-Page SEO means more now than ever since the new Google update: Panda. No longer are backlinks and simply pinging or sending out a RSS feed the key to getting Google PageRank or Alexa Rankings, You now NEED On-Page SEO. So what is good On-Page SEO?First your keyword must appear in the title.Then it must appear in the URL.You have to optimize your keyword and make sure that it has a nice keyword density of 3-5% in your article with relevant LSI (Latent Semantic Indexing). Then you should spread all H1,H2,H3 tags in your article.Your Keyword should appear in your first paragraph and in the last sentence of the page. You should have relevant usage of Bold and italics of your keyword.There should be one internal link to a page on your blog and you should have one image with an alt tag that has your keyword….wait there’s even more Now what if i told you there was a simple WordPress plugin that does all the On-Page SEO, and automatically for you? That’s right AUTOMATICALLY, just watch this 4minute video for more information at. Seo Plugin

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               1. Um, you lost me at ‘hello’…

                  4 thoughts on “It’s not a crush. It’s imprinting.”

                  1. In summation, conclusion the features you would like to embody in your website. The next careful is to pick out a website layout and planning how to line up

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                     1. Can I skip the summation and the internet gibberish and just get the shanghai massage?

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                  1. In extension, conclusion the features you would like to file in your website. The next careful is to pick out a website layout and planning how to arrange

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                     1. What? Are you trying to play one-upsmanship with the beijing place? I don’t know that a third masseuse would make that much of a difference, but chocolate might…?

                         

I did. I thought it would be great to keep a list of the bastards who kept spamming me, and then maybe we could all try to get even together. It seemed like a great idea. I started keeping track of them right after I got my website set up, so I was going to be able to  list every one of the shit heads.

Lord was I wrong.  I got hit with a tsunami of shit.

I had started allowing them to leave their “posts” and I had fun answering them with snark, as if they cared. But too much was too much.

I regret that I will have to more closely moderate the comments. I had hoped we could all be snarky together. But no. The shit heads had to ruin that. What kind of world do we live in when shit heads ruin people being shitty.

Anyway, for posterity, here is the original page:

Yay! Someone commented on my website! OOO! It’s soooo exciting! I wonder what they said? Lemme see here…

WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS SHIT???   Is this spam? I can’t even tell! It looks like English, but I can’t frickin’ read it. Did you use Google translate for this? And how the hell can a post about my anal itch be exactly the information you were looking for? Are you some sort of sick pervert? (well, maybe you should send me an IM…)

But why are you sending me advice on what I need to do with my website when you are … Shanghai Massage? WTF! What do you care how my website is set up? Maybe you should go back and check your spinning basket to see if there is something for you to sit on and ‘massage’.

PSHAW! What a load of crap this is.

Someday I am going to find something interesting to do with this list, so I don’t want to lose it.  I am going to put it right here where I can find it easily when I figure out what I want to do. I have to put it somewhere easily accessible,  because I know the flash of inspiration will come when I’m loaded, and I don’t want to get pissed off and punch my monitor trying to find it (again).

So here we go!

Jane Vodka’s Spam List

You spammed me, and I took it personal. Someday I will find a way to make you wish you were canned SPAM®, because I actually like that stuff with cheese and crackers, but I don’t like you.

Anyone out there reading this, feel free to make use of this information for any nefarious purpose you can think of that would bother no one except those listed. In other words, don’t be a Dick back just to be a Dick. Find something really worthwhile to do with it first.  Prove we are better than they are! (Then we’ll fling the monkey poo!)

By the way, my smart friend told me not to follow the links, as they might give my computer a venereal disease, so I recommend you don’t either.  If you do, you need to let me know before we have computer sex, or I will never forgive you.

Karen
monurl.ca/85kk
pwilxgde@gmail.com
23.81.201.89

Sandra
derPir.at/gm1
khqvrtqsy@gmail.com
23.81.201.91

Anonymous
ronzoro.com/
emlfokaluqn@gmail.com
120.43.27.4

Yay! Anonymous! At least you almost admit you’re dicking around.

shanghai massage
shanghaiescortf7.com/shanghaimassage/shanghaiesco…
axesyxamaor@gmail.com
91.200.13.70

See? I wasn’t kidding! shanghai massage. WTF!

You know, I never had much of a sex life. I got married way too young.  And I forgot to try before you buy. And I couldn’t ever afford a new model. So, basically, I’m a one trick pony. Or rather, I’m stuck with one.

So, I have lived a lot of my (sex) life vicariously.  Crappy romance novels, good erotica, and even the occasional flutter at a really nice ass in a movie. (Speaking of which, when are we going to grow up and get to see man-parts in movies? Huh? Just sayin’.)

Okay. So that wasn’t entirely true. I have lived ALL of my sex life vicariously. There. Happy now? You made Auntie Vodka tell the truth and now she’s crying and looking for her special glass again. Feel better?

The only way to cope with such a miserable existence is alcohol and imagination.  Not necessarily in that order, but it most definitely works best with both. Other wise you end up with the problem I had last nigh…..er… the other day.

You see, I am getting old. And fat. Yes, I’m old and fat. Great! Rub it in! Think you can hurt me? Well, you can’t. And you want to know why?

Because there is nothing you can do or say that can possibly make me feel worse than the things I think to myself do. So there. Next time you want to tease the fat lady and make comments about her needing a beeper for when she backs up, just remember, she’s already thought of it. And considered installing one, just to let everyone know she’s got a sense of humor, and then rejected the idea, because it just kills her fantasy of being like everyone else that much more.

So what happened to me recently?

OOOO! There was this cute little Mexican man.  He’s of a rare breed now-a-days. Nice shoes, nice clothes, sexy little fedora hat. Polite, charming, cute accent (not the Ricardo Montalban type, more like Speedy Gonzales).  He kinda did it for me, you know?

So I took that thought home with me for my adventures in vicarious living though imagination and alcohol.  I used to have this fantasy of riding through sex like a cowgirl, waving my hat over my head with one hand and screaming “YaHoooooooo!” at the top of my lungs while holding on for dear life with my other hand.

Then my realistic self-image had to get in the way.  I’d forgotten to use enough alcohol with my imagination.

Do you remember this cartoon?

Yeah. It was like that.  Except instead of a Chihuahua, it was my cute little Mexican man. And instead of my ass…

Never mind.

By the way. I wanted to give the cartoonist credit and a link-back, but I couldn’t figure out who drew it. If you know, please let me know, so I can credit him/her.

And next time you feel like making fun of someone for physical things, just remember, they are most assuredly already more aware of it than you are.

I never wanted to be that girl.

I look at this picture and think “What the hell is she doing?”

I mean, yeah, horses are okay. But they smell.  And riding them makes my ass hurt. And they require more attention than a man.

Jeez! More attention than a MAN! Who the hell needs that?

Oh, but they aren’t judgmental. They love you for who you are.

Yeah, so do cats.  And dogs. And even stuffed animals.

And stuffed animals don’t cost a gazillion dollars a year to have someone else take care of them while you have to go to work to pay for someone else to take care of them!

Okay. Maybe I got off on the wrong foot here.

She looks  a little sad. Maybe she needs the horse to be her best friend. Maybe the cat ignores her. Maybe she’s wishing someone would come sweep her away from that dreary country life.

Or maybe she should get off her ass and go do something herself! Why the hell do you think Feminism is still an issue! Go fucking do something useful instead of sitting there looking forlorn!

Okay.

Sorry.

You should never ask me my opinion of art.

Especially after you made a picture of me that looked like this:

Yeah. It’s fucking funny. That doesn’t mean I forgive you.

I was watching this goofy kid try to talk to my daughter, and I finally figured out what is wrong with some men/boys.

Not all, just some.

They don’t get “crushes” or have “love at first sight”. They imprint. Like baby ducks. They see some woman/girl and start following her around like a love-sick puppy. Because that is exactly what they are. They suddenly are a baby who needs all the attention he can get. Needy, whiney, quick to cry, quick to throw a tantrum, easily pacified, easily upset.

Seriously. Think about it.

You know I’m right.

Oooo… there is a “Hot Momma” joke there somewhere.

Okay, this is NOT a joke about sex with my husband. Although it could have been.

So I was reading a Scientific American at the Doctor’s office the other day. I don’t know why they had that magazine there. It doesn’t make any sense to me. Don’t ask what kind of doctor, either. I don’t want to talk about my hot flashes.

Anyways, there was this article about some scientist who had been staring at brontosaur bones and started wondering how things that big managed to have sex.

I stopped reading there. I mean, my eyes looked at more of the article, but I didn’t retain anything. I was too busy imagining two giant beasts stacking up like elephants. Then I realized I only kind of knew what that looked like.

I must have seen a picture somewhere, or I doubt I could have been so sure of the mental image I got, but as far as actual motion goes, I have no idea.

It’s kind of hard to picture that thrusting motion, isn’t it? Or is that just me? I keep imagining the male elephant’s butt squeezed tight, his legs straight out, his trunk straight up in the air trumpeting in triumph.

I kind of get it.

And I can kind of extrapolate that out to a brontosaur (which I have now been corrected to be a brachiosaur. whatever.).  But I stall at the the T-Rex.

What did they do with their tails? I mean those are big and in the way. And I know  they didn’t just lay down and do it. With those stubby little arms, there would be no getting back up.

I figure the female had to go find a nice big tree or rock to put one leg up on.

I wish I would have read the rest of the article. Maybe there were answers there.

Am I weird for thinking about this too much?

No. The weirdo who wrote that dinosaur/ porn bestiality book is weird.  I mean, that’s weird. At least I assume it is. I guess it would only be fair of me to keep an open mind and read it, just to be sure.

Maybe they know how the dinosaurs did it.

(Yes, that’s a real damn book! Look up dinosaur erotica Amazon. No I won’t post the link for you. It gives me the creeps. I mean really? The thought of doing a lizard man is bad enough, but a lizard? Or a Dinosaur?  GAH!)

Okay. I know the chicken doesn’t really fit what I was talking about, but if you look at the gleam in the T-Rex’s eye and the fear in the chicken’s…

So by now, you’ve probably figured out Vodka is my drink of choice.

‘Why Vodka?’ you may ask.

Easy. It’s so that I don’t have a drinking problem.

‘What’s a drinking problem’, you ask? Drink, get drunk, fall down, no problem!

Riiiiiiiight.

Have you ever tried Tequila?

Tequila causes me to have kids.

Tequila makes me feel like I can run around naked in the snow—so I do.

Tequila makes me hot, horny, and hellacious.

Tequila is a drinking problem in a bottle.

That’s why I drink Vodka. It does none of those things.

Tequila caused all the problems in my life that Vodka now has to take care of.

Remember,

Tequila=drinking problem

Vodka=marriage counseling

So.  Here I am. Middle aged, middle weight, middle intelligence, middle income, middle every damn thing in the world.

Even middle of my life.

So I think I’m having a mid-life crisis, and my best friend, who is an author, and artist, and everything I always wished I was decided that maybe I needed a new hobby. A way to express myself, a way to vent my vitriol.

So she talked me into becoming Jane Vodka.

It’s like my superhero secret identity, but reversed.  But I digress…

Jane made a wonderful piece of art for me to use. You may have already noticed it:

Then I mentioned to her that I needed a profile photo and I didn’t know what to use. So she made me this gorgeous, gregarious, girl:

I thought it was great. It really catches the spirit of how I wanted to feel when I did this. But I opened my big mouth and mentioned that it really didn’t look anything like me. So here’s what I got:

Hmph.

I told her obviously that was me. I always scratch the back of my head with my big toe.