Caught in a Bad Romance!

I’ve been channeling my inner rock star lately,and I’ve decided that if I could be anyone, I would want to be Lady Gaga. Hands Down!!

I am obsessed with her song “Bad Romance.” Every time I turn it on, I find myself dancing, mimicking the whole video. You should see me… my moves are pretty impressive!
I don’t care if my children don’t agree and  have thought a time or two that their mother was  having a seizure or something.They say I scare them,and I need to stop. But I  tell them just wait till mommy get her hands on a fire bra,then you’ll have a reason to be scared.
Until then, get used to it! Cause I’m a freak bitch baby!

Is There Life After The Internet?

I’m not even going to try to calculate up how long it’s been since my last post. No, I’m not! Because all that will do is piss me off again about the reason for my absence.
I don’t know about you but I absolutely HATE my internet provider! Comcast sucks a big ass! I have had little to no service for almost a month now. They have sent over three different technicians to help rectify my problem. The first one came into my home speaking little to no English,which I’m going to assume is why he didn’t tell me that while he was up in my attic , he stepped wrong and now my ceiling has a huge crack in it! That man left me wishing I would have listened a little better in Spanish class and learned how to say “Fuck You Pedro” in a way he could understand it!
The second tech I had hopes for. The way he swaggered into my home,speaking my language and assuring me that my internet problems would soon be over. I bought into it,hook,line and sinker. Until an hour after he left my connection went completely dead. UGH!
I wanted to scream,but more than anything I wanted my internet back,slash that, I NEEDED my internet back. Without it these last couple of weeks, I had no idea what to do with myself. It’s been so long that I’ve been an internet junkie ,I can’t recall what I use to do with my time before it.
The first week while I waited patiently for Pedro’s arrival, I kept myself in denial. I thought surely if I pressed the Firefox button harder that miraculously my precious internet would appear,and honestly a couple of times that did work. When it would,it would throw me into a typing frenzy, typing in all my favorite websites,and opening numerous tabs to hold them all. I would start to feel like life was going back to normal,smiling and feeling content,only to have that happiness ripped from me when the page would refresh and come back up with “SERVER NOT FOUND”! Every time that would happen, I would want to hit someone or something,and after a couple of days the server wasn’t the only thing that couldn’t be found. My family,and small animals were no where to be found either.
Feeling lonely and trying to come to terms with the fact that my internet was gone, I decided to try and remember what I use to do B.I (before internet). It all seemed like such a distant memory, like when I use to leave my house,or talk to people using my mouth and not a keyboard. Surely these things had to be so outdated and useless now. I really felt like Helen Keller as  I tried to go back to the olden days and reacquaint myself with things and people outside my virtual world.Praying the whole time,that a Anne Sullivan type would come in and teach me how to live in this strange world , a world that certainly did not get my humor like my virtual world did.
The sadness of the whole situation was about to overwhelm me,when there was a knock at the door,and minutes later my prayers were answered. For who stood behind that door was a cable guy that actually KNEW what he was doing,and restored my internet service and my life back to normal. )

Gifts Of Perfection!

I know that Christmas was a few weeks ago and everyone has moved on to focus on the new year,but I got a couple of presents this Christmas that I feel deserve blog recognition. These gifts are extremely precious to me, because not only do they show the purchaser put in a lot of time and thought into picking it out,but also because I finally got two items that I have always wanted for my very own.
This first “gift” came from an unlikely source,one that I was sure I hid my freaky side from. So you can just imagine my surprise when my mother in law took me aside Christmas eve and said ” I know we told everyone that we weren’t going to buy gifts this year,but when I saw this ,I thought of you and had to buy it.” Delighted and puzzled by her thoughtfulness I unwrapped the gift with rocket speed. The wrapping paper hadn’t even had time to hit the floor before my eyes beheld the most beautiful porcelain cock right in my hands. Misreading my delight for horror,she turned to me and said ” Now if you don’t like it, you can always re-gift it “,to which I replied ” NO WAY ! Are you kidding me, I love it, and beside there is always room for more cock in everyone’s life!” and I meant it.
Driving home that night with my new cock nestled gently in my lap, I was certain I had just received the best gift ever, and one that just really sings out I would be perfect for Thinkinfyou.  I truly thought Christmas was going to be all down hill from there, at least present wise ,surely, no one could outdo my mother in law’s cockerific gift. So when my sister came bearing gifts on Christmas day, I unwrapped her present halfheartedly expecting a last minute gift set to be hiding underneath the paper,but I was way off.  What was wrapped in that shiny Santa Claus wrapping paper was the gift that keeps on giving , a petri dish with three adorable stuffed Herpes in it. I looked at her with joyful tears in my eyes and cried “How did you know?” But before she could answer ,I hugged her tight and said, “I never thought there would be a day that my sister would give me herpes.Thank you, for thinking of me!” to which she just smiled and said ” I knew you of all people, would really enjoy stuffed Herpes.” and she was right. I mean, what really says I love you more a case of Herpes? I’ll tell you now, nothing does. It really is the most thoughtful and considerate gift you could give anyone,and one that they will never forget….I know I won’t!And now I’m just keeping my fingers crossed, that maybe I’ll receive a case of Chlamydia for my birthday…a girl can dream can’t she!?!

The Men of My Dreams

If any of you have been following Thinkinfyou for over a year, you know that I don’t believe in New Year’s Resolutions. No, I see coming up with one as just a way of warning yourself of the new year’s failure you’ve got ahead of you.Plus, honestly, I’ve never found myself at this time of the year having a problem that I felt was worthy enough of wanting to change, I happen to be happy with my warped fucked up habits,and quirks…they are what makes me unique! But then I went to sleep last night and everything changed. I woke up realizing that my sub conscious could use A LOT of help and fast!

Now if you can remember when I did a post on wet dreams, I was very honest with you about only having one wet dream in my life thus far, and the honor of Thinkinfyou’s wet dream devirginizer went to Sean Connery in all his Scottish glory.That dream was a good dream but yet slightly disturbing,for as I explained before I’ve never been  sexually attracted to geriatric men,at least not knowingly. I didn’t think much about it after it was over,and went on dreaming of flowers and butterflies,and ax carrying masked men chasing me trying to slice me in two…you know normal stuff. But last night as I laid my head down to slumber,preparing myself to run for my life, I entered a dream where there were no masks.No,there was only me and Kenny Rogers,standing in the middle of a kitchen somewhere .At first I was a little confused because it wasn’t the Kenny of today, who’s face really does look like a mask with really small eye holes.
No,this Kenny was the one that I remember from my youth, you know the one that looked like an older Grizzly Adams without the talent of being able to tame a grizzly bear,but made up for it by infiltrating the airways during late seventies and early eighties with hits like “The Gambler” and “ Islands In The Stream”.
Anyways, when that Kenny entered my dream,he came up behind me pressing what I thought was his microphone into my lower back.Immediately, I got nervous thinking he was going to want me to sing a duet with him…and even in my dreams ,I know I can’t sing. So I went to turn to tell him of my vocal inabilities ,when he grab my arm and whispered into my ear something like

“You got to know when to do ‘em, know when to screw ‘em,
Know when to pump away and know when to cum.
You never mount your honey when you’re sittin’ at the table.
There’ll be time enough for mountin’ when this dream is done.”

And for some reason these lyrics were like mood music to my ears. I turn into his embrace and sang out with the vocals of a song bird and said ” My man in my dreams, that is what you are,

I’ll let you in between, though it feels so wrong,

Nail away on me, with your old man dong,

but don’t you die on me old man,uh uh. Cause I’ll smother under your blubber ,uh huh.”

Needless to say after those beautiful loving lines were uttered from my mouth,we made sweet, sweet love,the kind that love songs are made from.Then sadly, seconds later I woke up ,satisfied,but  knowing I had a HUGE problem , but no idea how to rectify it. Surely there aren’t books out there to teach someone how not to whore themselves out to the geriatric in their dreams.Feeling like a freak,I laid there in my puddle and thought, until  I heard the voice of the Gambler coming to me again,for a minute I thought I had dozed off and was about to go for round two ,but my eyes were wide open and I could still hear him singing, although the tune was a little different this time. He sang ,

“The gambler wants you to  know, that you’re what he was deprivin’
He want you to ho away, every time you sleep.
‘Cause he thinks you’re  a winner , so don’t think you’re a loser,
And he promises he won’t die on you, the next time that you sleep.”

And when he’d finished speakin’, I laid back on my pillow, came to terms with my freakness, and faded off to sleep. Then somewhere in my dreams, the gambler, he broke in again. And in our final round, I found a disgrace that I might keep.

Giving A Hand To The Masses!

The Christmas season has been in full swing here in Thinkinfyouland,and unfortunately has not left me with much time to dig into my sick mind and put my thoughts on display here. Today though I came across something that I couldn’t pass up posting. Being the “giver” I am, it just wouldn’t be right not to help you,my loyal readers with your last minute gift buying. Because if you’re anything like me (Lord help you), you still have someone on your list that you just can’t seem to find that special something  that will bring a smile to their face. So ladies and gentlemen I give you the perfect gift for that HARD to please someone in your life…

One look at this commercial and I knew that it would be handjobs for all of my loved ones this Christmas! And now I know that without a doubt it will be the happiest Christmas EVER! So I urge you with just days left until the blessed day, take a cue from Thinkinfyou and give your loved ones the gift that keeps on giving…The Handjob! No need to thank me,just enjoy!

Merry Christmas!!

Sick Songs of the Season

Hold on to your pants  dear readers,because  I,the normally pessimistic Thinkinfyou have found myself really into the Christmas spirit this year. Seriously, I don’t know what happened ,but every morning I wake up  in a festive mood wanting to bake cookies,and decorate everything in sight with tinsel. And  NO, I haven’t been huffing, sniffing,smoking,or drinking anything! I’ve just been feeling overly jolly lately,and YES, that is the first time  that I’ve ever described myself as “jolly”and I think I like it. Jolly is the perfect word right now for my demeanor,so much so that I believe  if I was only just a few inches shorter I would be scouted out to become one of Santa’s elves by Santa himself.

Send your own ElfYourself eCards

Unfortunately my jolly mood hasn’t seemed to have transferred on to the masses. Everywhere I go I see nasty,mean,bitter people that wouldn’t know jolliness if you shoved some up their ass. It’s sad really,and it got me wondering, why is it so hard for most to get into the season?

Then it came to me,maybe it’s the Christmas music that floats through the air and is inescapable whenever you leave your home this time of year that’s to blame. Honestly,if you really listen to a lot of the Christmas classics the message can be misconstrued and be taken as anything but jolly.

Take for instance, the classic ” I saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus”. Surely nobody really wants to sing the praises of their mother’s whoring ways,fondling, and sucking face with old men no matter who they are. It  just isn’t something you want to sing about. Plus,it really isn’t a laugh when Daddy walks in and sees Mommy kissing Santa Claus,that’s usually when Daddy leaves,and doesn’t come back.So if this song brings up some of these bad memories of Christmases past,you might want to try and find the instrumental version of this classic. Although ,I’m not sure if that will be enough because you’ll still  have to  hear that old man yelling “Ho,Ho,Ho”,and know he’s talking about your mom…You might just want to check out Judaism to solve this problem.
This next classic has always struck me wrong,and I can totally see why it would dampen  spirits. To me,“Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer” always seemed  like a cover up song,so nobody had to  know that “Grandma” was really a huge drunk that dabbled in bestiality,and went a little too far with it.” There were hoof prints on her forehead”,that just says to me she was asking for it! No wonder Grandpa took it so well,I’m sure he was glad he didn’t have to compete with big bucks anymore. Nasty,dirty Grandma,even a holiday song couldn’t halt the imagines that your filthy habits left behind. I say scrap this song altogether!
Finally I give you a song that most likely responsible for many horrible gifts that you’ve received over the years.  “The Twelve Days Of Christmas” I believe should be changed if it is  to be played at all during the Christmas season. Really,who the hell wants a Partridge in a pear tree for Christmas,especially from their true love!?! Men, let me give you a huge piece of advice, do not listen to this song before going shopping for the lovely lady in your life because although nine ladies dancing might be your idea of the perfect present , trust me she won’t feel the same and you’ll probably receive a nice set of blue balls in return for your thoughtfulness.
I could go on and on dissecting Christmas songs for what they really say,from watching your beloved snowman die a horrible death, to the song where mean reindeer made fun of a little reindeer with a severe but useful birth defect,but I won’t because I want to stay jolly,at least for the season.

Do You Believe?

With Thanksgiving out of the way and gone like most of the leftovers from the feast,it’s on to the Christmas season here in the Thinkinfyou household,and I couldn’t be more excited. Excited because I believe Christmas time is the one time of the year it’s OK to have an overactive imagination and not have to worry about being committed into a psych ward for it.

There is nothing better in my eyes than watching people young and old getting caught up in the spirit of the season ,and opening their imaginations up so that the idea of a jolly old fat man,who spends most of his time with midgets and reindeer,isn’t considered some sort of freak that they warn their children to stay away from. No, thanks to the power of imagination this jolly old fat man is revered and treasured so much that he is allowed to come into our homes in the middle of the night, eat our cookies, and drink our milk,just as long as he leaves us presents galore. Not a bad trade off if you ask me,but I’ve always LOVED the idea of Santa Claus,and it has nothing to do with my fascination with midgets either(except for the ones with big heads and short arms,they get me every time). No, for as long as I can remember I couldn’t wait till Christmas eve to lay out my cookies and extra large glass of milk for Santa along with a well written letter explaining why I hadn’t been as good as I could have been ,and going on to say that if he would forgive my minor infractions and leave me more presents than my sister, I’d promise to try harder to be better next year…it worked like a charm for years.

Even when I became an adult and had children of my own, I still found myself excited on Christmas eve helping them put out their cookies and proofreading their apology letters for Saint Nick. You see, it didn’t matter if I had to play a bigger part helping their imaginations come to life, the magic was still there. Trust me, there is nothing more awe-inspiring than a child’s face on Christmas morning.

With my children being older now,and totally against the idea of going to the mall to sit on some old man in a bad Santa suit’s lap, I was thrilled that my siblings had started families of their own so there would be young children with vivid imaginations that I could play with during the Christmas holidays. Unfortunately last night when I called my older sister,(the one that I asked for more presents than)and asked her what her two beautiful six and four year old boys were asking Santa for for Christmas,she proceeded to tell me that they don’t do Santa Claus. Within those words I was crushed. WHAT?!?! NO SANTA CLAUS!! No, the holiday she said is all about Jesus and his birthday,so her boys will get three gifts just like Jesus got on his birthday,this was about the point that I started thinking, “Where the fuck can I get my hands on some myrrh?!?”
Don’t get me wrong I realize that Jesus is the reason for the season and I’ve made sure to make his birth a big part of our Christmas celebration over the years,but I never thought that Jesus would mind sharing his birthday with a jolly fat man that’s job is to bring a little joy to the people of the world. In fact, I would bet that Jesus wishes more people would be happy,give selflessly to others, and be trusting enough to take a cookie from a stranger…  you know, like Santa Claus.

A Dream Come True!!

I can’t even begin to describe the excitement that is coursing through my veins at this very minute. AHHHH! Tell me, have you ever had a dream that you never thought in a million years would come to fruition? You thought about it forever and tried with all your might to make it come true ,and nothing.Then one day out of the blue, you are blessed with the bounty of that treasured dream landing right in your lap and allowing you to wallow in it’s wonder for as long as you’d like. Well, today was that day for me,people, and I really think I’m walking away from it a changed woman.

Today, I got to see Danny Devito naked in all his five foot tall glory. I know, I know, I’m one lucky girl. This desire to see Danny in his beautiful natural state has been with me since his days on Taxi. I can remember watching that show and just wishing I was a little bit older,and that I wouldn’t gain any more height as I aged, just so I could one day behold this splendorous thing.
Unfortunately, over time, I grew to over five foot, Danny went on to get married,and the dream was buried somewhere deep in my subconscious willing itself to die daily. Then today  comes along,and I went out and bought myself a early Christmas present in the form of “It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia” “A Very Sunny Christmas” DVD,and it breathed new life into that old dream.FX Networks – It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia – Full Episodes and Exclusive Video.

Now I knew that this gift would bring me joy,considering every week I can’t miss an episode of the best show on television. Really,if you haven’t seen the show,your life is missing some much needed happiness. Make time Thursday nights at 10 EST on FX,and prepare yourself for the best 30 minutes of your life…it’s just that good.
After you have come back and thanked me for changing your life by turning you on to,” It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia”,you’ll find yourself compelled to go out and buy yourself the same early Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa(whatever you celebrate)present that I bought today. Once you’re done enjoying your early gift harvest a plenty,don’t be surprised if you realize that seeing Danny Devito naked is a dream come true for you too!

When I Grow Up, I Want To Be….

I helped celebrate my oldest daughter’s birthday in September.She turned the big 1 9,which is so surreal to me.It seems like yesterday that she was running around with nothing but a diaper on and needed me to do everything for her, including wiping her butt. Needless to say, things have changed,not only do I not have to wipe her butt anymore which I don’t miss,but I also don’t get to give her a kiss goodnight anymore and that is a bit more difficult.She moved out a little over two months ago now and is having the time of her life at college,which makes missing her easier because she’s happy.
Every time I talk to her I can hear the excitement in her voice from all the learning and exploring she’s is doing. She is so put together and driven for being just nineteen,she knows what she wants and is on course to achieve it. I don’t think a mother could be more proud of her child,so I make sure to encourage her to reach for the stars because if you can think it you can be it!  And if that isn’t enough I take the time and tell her the story again of her go getting mother. You see way back when, when I was young and free, and life was full of options ,I had dreams big dreams.I can remember my first desire for my future when I was  very little, I wanted nothing more than  to marry a farmer and have seven kids…I know I know, it shows, when I dream… I dream BIG.

Thankfully over time my dream changed.Probably when I realized that I really didn’t enjoy early mornings,the smell of animal feces, or manual labor.Not to mention once I found out that babies would more than likely have to  come out of my vag, I knew seven kids was a bit much. I was certain that by baby five, my vagina would be so worn out that it would be like throwing a hotdog down a hallway for my hard working farmer hubby sexually,although it might come in quite handy for helping carry a hay bail or two,it wasn’t worth the risk,so I trashed that dream.

Some time around middle school, a new dream for my future came to be when  I recognized that I had quite the knack for arguing quite convincingly and getting my way,so I decided that it was my destiny to become a lawyer. I guess I didn’t realize that in order to become a lawyer you really have to apply yourself in school,and well for me applying myself wouldn’t have worked  in really well with my social schedule. I had parties to go to and people to see,which didn’t leave much time or energy for homework. So when my senior year rolled around and I had to go visit my guidance counselor to discuss what I was going to do with my life,the bitch of a counselor almost spewed coffee out of her nose when I told her of my plans of wanting to go to law school. Once she wiped her coffee snot away from her nose, she looked at me and told me that I needed to look into going to beauty school! Beauty school, my ass. I mean sure I did my own hair with amazing flair,aqua netting that shit up so high,I was like a walking work of hair art,but there was a brain under that perfect coif,granted it wasn’t used much and maybe was a bit damaged from being a ganja goddess,but a brain just the same, I could have been a lawyer.

But shortly after she voiced her doubt in my abilities, my career choice changed again. I decided I needed to become a counselor. The way I looked at it was  if this stupid woman who was  without a doubt suffering from a severe case of hair envy could go to college,graduate and get a job helping kids with their problems and finding their direction in life I could do it no matter how many times I OPed(overpotted.) In fact if you really must know, I sometimes wonder if  I’m Sigmund Freud reincarnated.

Seriously,how else can I explain my thoughts on everything in life without relating it to sex.Not to mention the fact that I’ve always blamed my mother for all that’s wrong in my life. I could have been the new Freud…if only I could grow facial hair,we’d be one in the same.Don’t tell me you can’t see the resemblance!
But after a while that dream died too. It’s like with all career ambitions in my life,I have the attention span of a two year old on crack,so I never see anything come to fruition.But I don’t stop dreaming of my true calling, or the day when female facial hair is in vogue. Because when whichever comes first I KNOW I’m going to be successful,and sexy!
Now I know I’m not the only big dreamer out there. So tell me what did you want to be when you grew up ,did you achieve it , change it,or are you still waiting to grow up like me?

Getting To Know You, Pet Peeve Edition

Thinkinfyou here and I’m back with the latest installment of “Getting To Know You” my lovely readers. Today’s subject is pet peeves. I believe knowing what gets under someone’s skin and pisses them off is essential in truly knowing that person,well that and their favorite sexual fetishes, but I’ll save that question for another post.

Today what I really want to know is, what makes your blood boil? Is it people who’s personal hygiene failures engulf all your senses,that you could swear that you can taste butt crack every time they pass? That use to be my #1 pet peeve,but has been replaced as of late with a much bigger personal annoyance, FAKE PEOPLE,and I’m not talking about the blow up kind that keep the surprised look on their face long  after you violated every plastic orifice you could find. I know, I know, she was asking for it.No, the kind of fake I’m referring to is the type that always act like everything is wonderful, even when it’s not. It could be raining shit on them and they’ll say something like ” Yes, I know I’m covered with shit from head to toe ,but just think how pretty the flowers will be this spring!”  I believe they call it “positive thinking” ,but I call it denial. Things can’t always be wonderful,and there is nothing wrong with calling it like it is.Hell if it is raining shit on me, I’m going to be like “fuck the flowers get this shit off me!”

The fake types I speak of also annoy the piss out of me when they throw their fakeness at others.You can be in a crowded room with Mr. or Mrs. Fake and they’ll pick out the worst dressed person there and hurl their fakeness at them by exclaiming how much they LOVE their outfit,while the real people around them look shocked almost blow up doll like.Oh,and one fake compliment is never enough for Mr. or Mrs. Fake,no. They have to go on for hours and hours throwing fake compliments much like a monkey throws it’s feces,and with the same results too. The more they throw, the more it smells.

Now, I’m not saying  be mean to the fashionable challenged,but don’t go falsely fueling their bad taste either. It’s just not right. I say,say what you feel and think. BE REAL,no matter the circumstances. Don’t spend your time being a fake  idiot because believe it or not, you’re not fooling anyone. People see through it and nine times out of ten, it really pisses them off!

OK, now that I purged my biggest peeve to you. I ask you , tell me what’s your biggest pet peeve?