Monthly Archives: August 2009

Sticking with it

Thanks for all the supportive words last week about my detox program. I am proud to report that I am still booze free and today I start the second leg of the program. I am dropping all fast food, processed foods, and basically anything that doesn’t occur naturally. Now, this may prove to be the toughest part of the process, but I think I will do fine. So, here is a short re-cap of last weeks happenings:

  • Almost fell off my plan a few times. 1) A co-worker invited me to lunch for a slice and a pint. I declined after thinking about it. 2) My boss wanted to have drinks after work. Thank god my other co-workers have given up booze and have gone veg. 3) My friend, a bartender, it was his last night before moving to NY. I had to say I was out of town.
  • I saw Inglorious Basterds and it was everything a movie should be! Great plot, storyline, dialogue, and a really good ending. Just enough comedy and suspense to keep you in your seat for almost 3 hours. Really, I had no idea it was that long until I walked out. Go see it.
  • For some reason I cannot get the Clarence Greenwood song “Sideways” out of my head.
  • Still have not heard about the job I interviewed for, but have made the decision that if I do not hear from them this week, I am buying my plane tickets to Beer Fest and the Islands. I am totally going to Beer Fest, just need to sort out which airport to leave out of. The Islands is a current work related thing, so I need to slow my roll on that one.
  • A good friend of mine has helped me acquire about 30 G’s of music, so I will have some new reviews coming up on that front.

As you can see not too much going on, but hopefully things will pick up soon. Don’t forget that Foxy Friday is in full swing and if you or someone you know would like to be featured, contact JP at justjpblog (at) gmail (dot) com. Also, you can follow me on Twitter @justjptweet.

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Luck of the Irish

I would like to welcome you to Foxy Friday! Foxy Fridays features female artists, tattooed females, or women that are sexy, intriguing, and artistic in their own right. Going on the principle that ink and art is sexy and vastly becoming a societal norm, rather than counter culture. These individuals hold both traditional and non-traditional roles in our culture and they need to be celebrated for their overall beauty. Plus, who doesn’t like seeing hot women on Friday’s?

Today The Gospel brings you Jeney from Shamrock-On:

Upon first impression, I am probably not someone you think would need to take off a sock to count all her tattoos.  Hell, I’m not even the kind of girl who jumps into a long-winded explanation when any Tom, Dick, or Harry asks me about them. My answers are typically simple and vague. This is because the ink that adorns my body is exactly that – mine. Although each piece has been inspired by important individuals and instances in my life and they were all designed and put there by someone else; the artwork and the stories that put them there belong to me

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Don’t get me wrong, I am proud of my ink and I don’t keep them a secret.  I just feel as if my tattoos are like scars – I’m not going to flash them to everyone I meet, but if you ask to see it or want the story behind it, I’ll tell you.

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That is what is so beautiful about body art and body modification to me. Every piercing, tattoo, and implant has a story attached to it that is as unique as the person it belongs to. Each inch of colored skin on my body is just as sacred as each scar, birthmark, or unblemished piece – because it all belongs to me and me alone.  From the tiny Libra symbol on my wrist to the shooting stars that line my ribcage, it is all a part of the glorious and wonderful person that is Jeney.

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I don’t think I will ever stop adding to my collection. I have so many plans to expand on pieces I have now as well as for whole new pieces. As a person I am always changing and growing – I expect the same of my body. After all, I’m never getting out of life alive, right? I might as well enjoy this body while I still can – live hard, and rock on!

Want to learn more about Jeney and her ink? She does a feature Tattoos-days where she showcases one piece that she has every Tuesday. Also, you can follow her on twitter at Jeneypeney.

Are you a beautiful woman that may not be considered “typical” housewife material? Do you enjoy the spicer things in life? Then you may be a Fox! If you or someone you know would like to be featured on Foxy Friday, please contact JP, live and direct at justjpblog (at) gmail (dot) com for more details. You can also follow me on Twitter @justjptweet Do it, Doo it.

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Don’t trust a sheep farmer or my Sister for that matter.

Welcome to TMI Thursdays! As LiLu always says: Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

TMI Thursday

I told you last week about the incident with the sheep farmer and how he shouldn’t trusted. Well, actually, its my Sister that really shouldn’t be trusted. I had just returned from Australia and was in DC for New Years eve 2006/2007. We decided that we should go to Dupont Circle1 and hangout at one of the bars there. Well, before we went out, I wanted to get a new shirt and tie, just to keep it on the klassy. Went to a store called Pink, found a very nice shirt, and was talked into a pink color tie. We pre-gamed a good amount and I should have known things would go down hill from here.

Getting dressed to go out I was convinced by my sister and her roommate that I should wear the new shirt and tie I just purchased. I was in, cause I looked good; Blue dress shirt with white French cuffs, black pants, nice shoes, and a pink tie. We headed out into the depths of the Circle to find “our” bar. Insanity, bars were charging like $50.00 just to get in and there was nothing special about these places. So, my Sister pipes up and says, I know this place in Adam’s Morgan2, not knowing any better, I was of course, in.

We got into a cab and quickly discovered that the cabby was either drunk or just plain mental. As we get in, he notices Jen’s gigantic tits3 and we were off on a ride to Adam’s Morgan. The cabby made inappropriate, yet funny comments about my Sister and Jen, and was all “I love the lesbians. I wish my wife was a lesbian.” We thought it was funny as shit. Yeah, kind of creepy. In that DC is kind of creepy after 11pm anyways, way. Dropped us off in front of the bar.

Things were looking up, the line was short, admission cheap, and a the few girls in line were really hot. Of course started talking to them and was working out a few things. Went inside, got a few drinks and we all started dancing. Then, all of a sudden, I got that strange feeling that I was somewhere I probably shouldn’t be.

Looked around and I quickly noticed that the M:F ratio was once again, unequal. I looked at my Sister, who instantly knew, I knew what was going on and I said, “what the fuck, you brought me to a fucking sausage fest, on fucking New Year’s eve!” She said, “its cool. Plus its too late to go anywhere else.” Now, realizing that I was in a Gay bar, in Adam’s Morgan, in a pink tie, I quickly felt the need to run to the border and pound a few tequila shots. I came back to where the girls were with 3 shots and Jen says, “oh, I don’t like tequila.” Me: “Who said these were for you assholes?” Yes, obviously I was pissed. Like fighting mad pissed. Not that I was in a gay bar, but because the girls I was talking to in line, bailed as soon as they found out what the place was. I think I said something like “the gays chased my girls away.

So, as I continued to get bombed4 my Sister, knowing I am totally pissed went over and talked to a huddle of gay boys. Brought them over to tell me the following, “oh honey, we gave the straights the color pink years ago. Everyone here is keeps talking about the well dressed straight boy and his 2 lesbians. Lets have a drink.” After that was said, we all got bombed and I kissed Jen at midnight. Ended up having a nice time… After the reality of the moment faded.

Moral of the story, never trust my Sister when she suggests a place to go, without double checking with other sources.

1Our first mistake.

2If you ever hear “lets go to Adam’s Morgan, punch that person in the face.

3You couldn’t miss these things, they were a size double G or something. Once, I put her bra on my head and pretended I was working a rice patty. I thought it was funny.

4What else do you do in this situation?

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When the devils nipping at your heels, you know this time it’s for real

Woke up Saturday morning with serious issues. Head pounding and throat sore. More specifically, the taste of chili cheese fries and smoke on my breath. Seriously, not attractive. Yes, I was still drunk when I woke up and it was pretty hard-core. After a mild lobotomy shower I started to feel a bit more human and started to evaluate my current state of overall health… Let’s just say it is rather poor.

I need a solid holiday from the booze and pretty much everything else that is not good for me, that I like oh so much. The usual chain of events is Booze–> Smokes–>Fast Food= shitty next morning. In fact my roommate, who is the voice of reason at times said, “you know if you smoke you are going to feel like shit, you always do.” I am kind of tired of it. There is no need to punish myself chemically, especially when I can beat myself up physically and in the long run feel better about the whole thing. Besides, I had someone that I know cares for me, say something to the effect of slow down, your liver does not like you. Usually, I don’t listen to others, but I heard this persons sincerity and appreciate them for it.

I am taking 30 days off to detox a bit. In fact, I am going to do things a bit differently than just taking 30 days off of booze. I have a tier system step up (in my head of course) to accomplish this small goal. Here is the step up:

30 days no alcohol.

No fast food. (not a huge issue)

No Soda. (not an issue)

After 10 days no processed foods. Crackers, chips, and anything that comes from a box.

Workout (weather permitting):

Biking on Monday, Wednesday, Friday

Swimming on Tuesday, and Thursday

All followed by push-ups and sit-ups to keep the core up.

I know it doesn’t seem like a huge plan, but that’s the point. These are things that are small on their own, but can really add up over a long period of time. Plus, I really push myself. 15 miles on day 20 the next. I tend to really go for it. It is all about my level of motivation and right now, I am feeling it.

My reward for all of this? Well, depending on how the rest of my life comes together, I plan on hitting up the Great American Beer Festival. The way I see it, 30 days of punishment will deserve a solid reward.

Do you have a detox program? How do you cleanse your system?

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Living Wicked indeed

I feel my readers have been truly deprived lately. A lot of me pissing and moaning about silly shit and not enough sexy. Well friends, I am going to fix that. As a connoisseur of tattoo’s and ladies, I would like to welcome you to Foxy Friday! Foxy Fridays: features tattooed females, female artists or women that are sexy, intriguing, and artistic in their own right. Going on the principle that ink and art is sexy and vastly becoming a societal norm, rather than counter culture. These individuals hold both traditional and non-traditional roles in our culture and they need to be celebrated for their overall beauty.

For the inaugural run I bring you a special treat, the luscious Wicked Courtni from Living Wicked:

hairs 030I live with my plate as full as possible at all times. I am a wife, and a mother of 2 beautiful children. I work, write, blog, and I am a full time student.

I am a self-proclaimed addict. Of ink and piercings. My first trip to Los Angeles at the budding age of 17 and a half, I was on a mission to get my first tattoo. I searched high and low for an artist to pop my ink cherry…  but no one would do it. I asked everyone. From Burbank to Venice Beach and all up and down Hollywood Blvd… but was turned away by every single one. Stupid Laws. I had almost given up hope until I found herself at the Slausen Swap Meet. Yes. The one on Crenshaw Blvd. In COMPTON. A very … mean mexican man agreed to tramp-stamp the fuck out of my back. I didn’t care that he didn’t speak a lick of English, or the fact that he called me a “bendeho” at every flinch and grimace.

I was VICTORIOUS.

From then, I wanted more. Each and every drop of ink on my body means something to me. It tells a story of my life. I do not believe in meaningless tattoos. Ones that fill in space … or connect one piece to another. Filler if you will. I think that if you are going to ink yourself, it needs to have a story attached. Any one of my tattoos I could tell you what it meant to me at that time. WHY it was important then and still IS important now.

DSC04447Looking at my back, you might not be able to make sense of what it means. The Kanji up my spine is the combination of my name and my husbands. He has the same one on his forearm. Tattoo’s have become kind of a bonding between us. He has a love for ink like I do, and I would say that he has inspired me to be more liberal in regard to tattoos.

tatt2 002My back piece is a work in progress. The stars represent my firm belief in fate and that those who pass stay with you… their watchful eyes the stars that shine above us. I think that eventually, each star on my back will represent a person who I love and who I have lost. I have a portrait of Marilyn Monroe on my inner thigh. I plan to have more of her inked on me. We share the same birthday, you know … and from a very young age I felt as if I related to her life. Her story. Her passion. She was who she was, as I am who I am. And it didn’t matter what anyone said or thought… she stayed true to what she believed.

6494_1174929250160_1135944317_548784_795295_nI plan on more ink in my future. I am not sure what exactly yet. It will come to me in a wave of inspiration I am sure. It always does. What I am sure of is that the permanence is a part of me. A commitment to who I am. A statement that we can be at whatever place in life that we want to be… and have ink. And show it off. Rock it. Loud and proud.

I am sexier with ink than without it.

Special note: Living Wicked has just written and published her first book entitled Submissive Confessions. Go and check out a 10 page preview and buy the shit out of it!

If you or someone you know would like to be featured on Foxy Friday, please contact JP live and direct at justjpblog (at) gmail (dot) com for more details.

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Never trust a sheep farmer

Welcome to TMI Thursdays! As LiLu always says: Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

TMI Thursday

A few years back I lived with a few of my good friends in South Australia. Yes, they are Aussies and had been to the states several times and I was now enjoying their hospitality. Their home was my home and by proxy, their friends were my friends. What happens when you are a 24 plane ride away from your home? Well, you just have to go with the flow and at time you never know where the river will take you.

Enter Farmer Mick: Farmer Mick is a sheep farmer and a demolitions expert. Blowing shit up by day, farming at night. Well, Mick was quite connected in town and knew heaps of people. However, it is true no matter where you go; farmers are not that cultured to city life. The stereo type of an Aussie cowboy Mick was. Down right nice guy and would do anything for you… But would also get you in shit tons of trouble due to his naivety.

10:30 on a random Wednesday night my cell phone rings and its Farmer Mick. He tells me he is on the way over to pick me up and we are going to go to Sumo night at the Nash Noodle House in downtown Geelong. Cool, betting on Sumo, I am there. We arrive and promptly start talking shit and throwing down money and giving the Sumo’s names like “King Tubby” and “Captain Calorie”; what do you expect, we were getting shit tanked on Jager bombs and VB’s. Anyways, we team up with some other dudes Mick knew and a few girls we met at the bar. Sumo concludes, girls want to go to the club. Now, as a visitor I suspect that my guide that came and picked me up, knew the town fairly well or at least the kind of club we were going to. #FAIL Mick had no idea what the place was about and I got the distinct impression that something was awry.

We get to this club and it looks like every other club we had been to on the trip. Long shady stairwell, bouncers that were well dressed and smoking a cig, and of  course us, the asshole brigade. We roll up, fucking hammered, and the bouncer say’s, “you boys aight? You do know where you are at right?” Me: “Of course I am fine. Yeah, I know where I am, do you? We are here with the girls.” Bouncer: *smiles* “aight then, have a lovely evening.”

We stroll in, do a quick survey and do a full scale attack on the bar. As we are pounding more Jager, I begin to get a funny feeling that the M:F ratio is a bit off. Fuck it, I brought my own girls. So, decidedly, we all needed to piss. The boys go before me, as I was a little distracted. Finally, went to it. I walked in and this is where it got weird: I walked in the bathroom and saw some guy talking to another guy from our group, hand on his shoulder and our buddy looked horrified. I said “whats up” and went to to piss.Then out of the corner of my eye, I see our buddy bolt out of the bathroom. Hmm, fuck it. I finish up and start to walk out. As I approach the door, I see the guy that was talking to our buddy, with a funny look on his chevy chase.

As I approached, the dude nodded his head at me as if to say whats up, but I realized he had something in his hand. Remember, I have been drinking Jager all nigh and a bit slow on the uptake. I looked down to see what this asshole was doing and I realized he was holding his cock as if he had just won a prize at the state fair. Kid you not, he say’s “What do you think, you like?” Me: *serious face* “Dude, what the fuck are you doing. This is a fucking bathroom, not a circus. Put that shit away and stop being a fag. What the fuck is wrong with you?” as I am walking out the door. Yep, I just called a dude propositioning me in the bathroom a fag. Then, all of a sudden, things start to fall into place like a fucking movie sequence. I, drunk ass JP, was balls deep in a Aussie gay bar courtesy of Farmer Micks dumb ass.

Now, I have been to many gay bars with my Sis and usually she points out the places to avoid. Being drunk in a strange land, in an undercover bar, I had no idea what was going on around me. Call it ignorant bliss. All until a guy offered me his cock. #NOTCOOL

I find Mick, tell him the score and that I may have created an international incident in the bathroom, I felt it was time to go. Mick, the asshole, tried to debate me on this issue. I was not having it and dragged him down the stairs right past the bouncer. I shit you not, the bouncer looks at me and Say’s “ah, come on now, could have been that bad?” Me: “No it wasn’t that bad. Except for almost getting ass raped in the bathroom by some douche bag.” Bouncer *smiles* “Have a lovely evening gentlemen.”

Wake up the next day and find Red, Rocky, Dane, and Blake in the living room. I proceeded to tell them about my adventure earlier that evening and where Mick had taken me. Dane, pipes up and say’s “mate, you know that place is a gay bar right?” Me: “well at first I didn’t until this fucking gay ninja came out of left Field with his pork sword in hand trying to swash-buckle me!”

We all laughed and they took me to a strip club later that day to and I quote Rocky “Ungay me.” Never trust a sheep farmer…

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So it has been said

I have just confirmed what every ex-girlfriend has ever told me… I am impatient. I am impatient to the point that I stress over the littlest things, that I have absolutely no control over. A week ago last Friday, I interviewed for a major position, that would basically ensure me a bitchin resume within 6 months. Yes, this is most definitely a status position, one I would be very comfortable to posses. The lead up to the interview was a disaster and the panel style interview did not help the situation. I truly feel I did the best I could do.

With that said, it still doesn’t take away that feeling deep down in my gut, that say’s “strong work on the interview, but we decided to go with someone else.” I heard nothing. No call, no email, not even a carrier pigeon. No news is good news right? Yeah, tell that to your girlfriend while she pees on a stick, wondering if it will turn blue. Or while giving blood, to hear if you are a winner of the HIVy award. It is all nerve racking. You feel you know that you covered all your bases, but something deep down is panicking.

Then, the self destructive behavior starts. Yeah, I am totally awesome and can deal with my feelings in an amazingly mature way #Fail. Binge drinking, yelling at people, anti-social behavior, and of course, smoking. All signs that I need to get my head right and get back in the game. I have not heard anything yet and still I act is if the world is melting and I need to go down with it (TWSS). Hell, maybe a hobby will help???

I know this is my own delusional paranoia, personafied by past trauma. I get it. But what the hell? What is the point of this post? I have no idea. All I am saying is I just want the chance to prove to myself, that I can do anything I set my mind to. This waiting thing though, may just be the end of me. Dramatic, yes. Paranoid, oh god yes. Thankful that there are supportive people out there, that listen to my whining; more than you will ever know.

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