Daily Archives: August 20, 2009

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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