Ass and Titties

I was taking to my lawyer/friend the other day when he said, "you know, we really could have made him pay for your tits." Well, those might not have been his exact words, but that was what he meant. In my divorce, I got screwed. You see, he had promised to buy me a set of nice, perky tits that would rival a 20 year old sorority girl in trade for me paying for his LASIK through my FSA. I want to qualify here by just reminding you to quit judging me. What woman doesn't want fresh tits? What man doesn't want a woman to have fresh tits?

Anyway, in our discussion about my never gonna happen boobs, my lawyer, who is also friends with Tim, asked if I thought he would really testify to back up my story about this verbal arrangement. And I said, "it's like you don't even know him." And really, that was the only appropriate response to such an absurd question.  Anyone that knows Tim knows that he is all about improving anyone's boobs. In fact, he doesn't even care if they are saggy, National Geographic boobs. He just thinks that if someone gets a new pair, they will be more inclined to show him. He's selfish like that.

One of the last times I was able to treat Tim to a night of ass and titties was when we're in Vegas. It was a wild night. My friend Yel was there with us along with he who shall not buy my boobs or Ass, for short. Earlier in the day, the guys had scheduled to go to the UFC fight. Yel and I had decided to shop and go to dinner then we had tickets to a Cirque show. It was perfect. 

On our way to dinner at some fancy ass restaurant in the Bellagio, we saw some guys with VIP passes to random hotspots within Sin City. We decided to stop and see what places we could check out. One of them was touted "THE BEST strip club in Vegas." And we fell for it. Hook, line, and glitter. 

The VIP passes gave us a free limo ride to the club along with free cover and a free drink for everyone in our party. What could possibly go wrong? I mean, Tim loves titties, I love limos, and Yel loves free drinks. There was nothing that could top the surprise we had waiting for the men in our party. What other woman treats her man and BFF to a night of beautiful, mostly naked women? 

Well, our Cirque show ended right after the UFC fight and both were at MGM which was the total opposite end of the strip from our casino. We had told the guys to go back to the room after the fight and to shower and get ready for our surprise. They had absolutely no clue. Since the strip club didn't have a wheelchair accessible limo, we asked the guys to call a cab and have it there at 11 so we could all go to the club together. Mind you, they still had no idea where we were going. They just knew that we thought this plan was totally unbeatable.

Well, since the UFC fight ended just before our show, the wait for a cab was longer than the wait for a negative pregnancy test at 17. Yel and I decided to walk. Which didn't seem so far. Well, it was. It took us over an hour to walk from MGM to TI in huge crowds on the 4th of July weekend when everyone was hitting the streets of Vegas at the same time. But we made the best of it. I mean, I was dancing and singing Ice Ice Baby while Yel was acting like she didn't even know me. And who could blame her. 

Either way, we eventually made it back to our casino where the guys informed us that the taxi got tired of waiting on us. So, we called the club asking them to send their limo and called a new cab. Then an argument of epic proportions ensued. Ass wanted to ride in the limo, but someone had to ride with Tim. It would have been dirty to send him alone to a place he didn't even know he was going to until he got there. 

Yel and I thought we should be able to ride in the limo because, well, we are spoiled bitches and it was OUR IDEA DAMMIT!!!! We won that argument. And mind you, we would have all taken a taxi but according to the strip club someone had to ride in the limo to get the other perks. We just didn't see any other solution. Nor did we see the karma that would come from us demanding we get to ride in this "limo." 

The taxi came and got the guys while Yel and I were waiting on our special ride. We waited and waited and never saw one pull up. Then I got a phone call stating they were at the hotel waiting on us. We saw a limo, but thought it had already been there, not a newly arrived one. We are all "did this limo just get here? I thought it was already here." "No driver waiting with a door open?" "This limo sucks! But, eh, it is a limo, right? So we should STFU." 

We tried to open the door and it was locked so I look around and see a fucking party bus with the strip club's name on it. Oh mah fucking gawd. The driver asks, "are you Megan?" And I ask how the fuck that classified as a limo. And that man said that because it can carry 15 people, they consider it a limo. I'm sorry but I've never seen a limo with a stripper pole and a disco ball. This was just my luck. Not to mention the eight or so young, barely-legal-type-young guys that were so glad we joined their fun. 

The driver said, "here's some music so you can dance." And I shit you not, one of the boys said, "yeah! We can make it rain!" "Bitch, you can't afford me" is exactly what I was thinking. Instead, I cried. I cried for the days when your biggest fear when going to the strip club was that a lap dance would give you crabs and that they only served Budweiser.

When we finally got there, the men in our group saw us run from the party bus with the look of "if you say anything, I will stab you with the severed claw of a kitten" in our eyes and that moment was never mentioned again. It was for the best.  Either way, we went inside hoping the rest of the night would be everything we had hoped it would be. It wasn't. 

Don't get me wrong, the girls were super hot. But everything else was such a money pit, I wanted to scream. A "song dance" was 40 bucks. A bottle of water was 12. And the ATM fee was 35. It was ridiculous.

We let Tim enjoy the scenery for a few hours before we left. We each got a public lap dance at 40 bucks a pop. And I asked a chick which doctor she used for her surgery. I got a nice referral. So, it wasn't all bad. But to this day, over a year later, I still get job offers through text messages fom that place. If I ever get that surgery, I might just consider it.

Your Flap-Jack Boobs, Meg

P.S. Feel free to email pics of tits to Tim at func.dysfunc@gmail.com

Limps and Shrimps

We went on vacation, which consisted of many hours of beach time and precisely zero hours of true relaxation. But that's the way we like it.  Every year I take my daughter to surf camp. She loves it. She's pretty good too.  When she actually tries to get up and isn't making excuses. But that rant is for another day.

We went to Jax Beach, which is our general place to visit because I have so much family there. Plus, I never have to rent a room. Which makes it like the cheapest ten day vacation anyone could ever have. And I'm frugal if I'm anything. Or poor. Either way, cheaper is better.  Also, not the point of this post.

This year, we took several newcomers. Three to be exact.  Three people who have never been to that part of Florida.  One who had never seen the Atlantic before, but she is only 9, so I give her a tad bit of leniency.

One of the newcomers was my friend, Shelley.  One evening, after being on the beach all morning and part of the afternoon, we decided to go "downtown" to visit a few shops and spend some money.  Well,  the whole evening started out with me having to use the potty so, so very bad.

While everyone was visiting a shop, I walked across the street to a restaurant to see if they cared if I used their restroom.  Since they were so gracious, I decided to buy a drink from the bar.  From that point, I should have known it would be an interesting endeavor, but no. Why would I listen to my instinct? How dare that conscience tell me to just drink my drink, pay and walk away?

Normal people would drink their whiskey and ginger ale and leave a nice tip and go back to join the rest of their group. I am not normal.  I called them over, told them the drinks were great, the menu looked awesome, and the place wasn't crowded, so our rowdy little girls wouldn't be able to disrupt many.  This is where it went bad.

All of us, four young girls, three adult women, were enjoying our food and drinks outside on the patio when a few dumbass guys joined.  Our first thought should be, "who in the hell walks over, sits down at a table where three women are eating, and just joins in their conversation?" That wasn't our thought.  My mind was on ordering another drink.  Their minds were on, well, I'm not sure.

One guy, who was apparently flaming, was the worst one upper one could ever imagine.  I was so distracted by him saying things like "I know the owner of that store, you girls should take those shells back and we'll go get some for free off the beach." And, "when I was swimming with sharks, one came up really close and scared me so much that I actually walked on water." I was so distracted by that, I missed things like him being a crossdresser. And one of the girls saying "but I bought a blue starfish?" As if to ask if there are any blue starfish on the beach just hundreds of feet away.  She surely hadn't seen one earlier that day.

When he was talking about walking on water, I wanted to ask him if he were a carpenter.  He wouldn't have even understood, so it's probably best I didn't take a chance to be snarky. After we got home, since my gaydar is out of batteries, the children informed me of his stories of crossdressing.  Which I apparently hadn't even bothered to listen to. Yeah, this guy, not appropriate for kids. At all.

The other guy, well, he was busy hitting on Shelley.  To the point that some time during the evening, he opened his pants so that she could see his schlong.  Now, the word schlong here is rather misleading as it contains the word "long."  And I'm not usually one to bash on a man's size since it is genetic, and well, my genes made me have like the ugliest feet I've ever seen on any non-neanderthal.  Either way, it isn't the fact that this limp was a shrimp. It is the fact that he is apparently so proud of his friend that he decided to show it during "girls night out."  If you have the nerve to show off your sausage, wouldn't you rather it not be a vienna?

In the end, we all learned a few lessons.  1. I suck at knowing who is gay or straight. 2. Random guys at restaurants that are so tactless that they will interrupt your not-so-cheap dinner are probably not the type of people that should be allowed around children. 3. Feet size are definitely not an indicator of penis size. 4. Family vacations with Meg always, always have at least one night of total hilarity.

The good thing about this was that we laughed and had fun for ten whole days.  There wasn't one day where I didn't laugh my ass off about something.  Even if it was because in the back of my mind I couldn't wait to tell you guys about limps and shrimps.

Your Sun-kissed,
Meg

P.S. This post really does no justice to the awesomeness of that one evening.

P.P.S. Eat more chocolate.

Gimpin' Ain't Easy

Yesterday, I went on a field trip with my daughter and over a hundred other hoodlums and snotty nosed kids.  I had an absolute blast.  First we had lunch on a riverboat.  It would have been nice and peaceful, except there were tons of bratty children running around and basically pushing each other out of the way just to see the captain.  Personall y I felt sorry for him.  First off for being stuck on a boat and having to see the same exact scenery day after day, but also because he gets gawked at by children and their nosy parents all day, every day.  I’m sure he’d rather just do his job in peace, but of course we don’t allow that.  This really was a nice preamble to the remainder of the field trip.  Kinda warmed the kids up to staring at something they knew they were supposed to be appreciating, but didn’t exactly understand why.

  After the riverboat, we went to the aquarium.  This is the first time I’ve ever visited the aquarium in Chattanooga, and it was nice, but I really expected a little more.  At least more sea creatures.  I prefer the sea life way more than river life.  The fish are more colorful, they seem more active, and they are definitely more interesting as far as their adaptations and their quirkiness.  But enough of my review, I really do have a point.  

In part of the aquarium, they had rather large turtles in a tank with other fish.  One was seemingly normal until further inspection when you saw that he was actually gimped up.  And by gimped up, I mean he was missing a back leg.  Or foot.  Or fin.  I don’t know the exact terminology for turtle anatomy, but whatever the hell it is called, he was missing one.  He was also missing part of his shell which is actually what I noticed first before I realized his whole back appendage was gone.  My first instinct was a shark attack, but you never really know.  He could have been caught in a fisherman’s net or some other freak accident like getting caught in the middle of some mermaid love triangle.  Or losing at a terrible sea version of Frogger.

  Because of this almost normal turtle, I began to think of Tim and his own gimp issues and how we all seem to have some kind of handicap, but we learn to overcome it or at least adapt to it.  Tim’s handicap is visible to everyone, well except for blind people because of their own handicap, but whatever.  Everyone who isn’t blind can see that Tim is not able to walk.  Either that or they think he’s a very good actor just looking for all the good parking spots.  Sometimes I wonder myself…

  In the end, some handicaps are able to be seen, others, well, they are hidden.  My handicap isn’t so easy to notice.  At least not to people who don’t really know me.  To the people who first meet me, I’m a little nutty, a little unorganized, and a little rude, or harsh, or just plain outspoken.  Some initially think I’m a bitch.  While I can be all of these things, those aren’t even the things that are so bad, or things that I have to learn to overcome.  But I am overcoming, I am learning, and I think all of the gimped up people and animals in my life to help teach me.

  You wouldn’t think that a dumbass redneck in a wheelchair could teach me so many things about life, but he has.  Tim, he’s a great teacher.  He taught me about physics when he tried to ramp a curb and faceplanted on the street in Nashville.  He taught me economics when he “hired a cleaning lady” and she cleaned his man pipes and not his house, but he still had to pay her.  Like I said, he is an awesome effing teacher.  And this teacher is taking me on a field trip of our own starting tomorrow.

  We will be heading to the coast in less than 24 hours.  By the time we get there, I’m sure he will have taught me more lessons.  Who knows, I might even get a lesson on anatomy or science.  Either way, I’m sure it will be a blast.  Wish us luck, and wish us good lessons.  Wish us a safe journey that doesn’t end in things like herpes or jellyfish stings.  Wish us to have a new story to tell you even though we haven’t found the time to tell you the hilarious ones of our past.

  -Your gimp loving, Meg

Don't Judge Me - I Think I Caught The Gay!

“Don’t judge me” is something we say often. Usually it is preceded by a story similar to “I was drinking margaritas on the back patio when I locked myself out of the house and had to pee in the bushes. Don’t judge me.” But this is not at all what the Don’t Judge Me of today means.

Sean Harris, the senior pastor of Berean Baptist Church has made comments that went public and then viral about raising gay children.  His comments allegedly alluded to abusing your child to prevent them from being gay. Or at least to stop it in its tracks.  I admit that I haven’t seen the whole sermon, so I can’t comment as to whether he was serious, or if he even said something along the lines of “if your son is gay, beat him with a stick.” I do know that in one segment he used the words “butch” and “bent wrist.” I’m pretty sure he wasn’t using these terms to warn people they are derogatory. I’m pretty sure he was using them in a derogatory fashion.

Now, I admit that I say things often that I shouldn’t say. I call Tim a gimp. I say things like “that’s retarded” or “I feel like a midget.” However, I never use my words to suggest that a group of people are all the same, or shouldn’t be allowed to be what they actually are. When someone hears this man say “if your daughter is too butch,” that daughter is busy saying “don’t judge me.” When a young man hears him say “bent wrist,” he is busy saying “don’t judge me.”

One of the problems I have with this is the fact that this pastor is generalizing. He is stereotyping. If there is anything I have learned from my gay friends, is that they never fall into my pre-conceived stereotypical views. The constantly prove me wrong. That they are non-conformists even in the most non-conforming way. They do it so well, they make hipsters look like the French in a world war. Yet they still continue to need to shout “don’t judge me!”

I always assumed that my first gay guy friend would be my new shopping partner. In fact, I had it all planned out to perfection. We would wake up, go get brunch (notice I did not say “eat”), get some trendy lattes at an over-priced coffee joint, then the shopping would ensue. Then I would hear things like “the new Manolo Blahniks are sweet” or “gurl, you look like a hot mess in that’ put it back before Greenpeace comes to save you.” I never knew the first gay guy I’d ever come to truly know would be so, um, what word am I looking for? Not stereotypical for sure.

Needless to say, I was sadly mistaken. I was even more mistaken when my newly acquired lesbian friend was so “butch” that she baked cakes and did girly shit like that. What the fuck was this world coming to? It was twisted, and perverse, and you know what? I liked it. In fact, I love that now, I don’t judge. I see people as people and I respect them as so. In the end, I may not have a new shopping buddy, but I also learned that The Gay isn’t really contagious. It isn’t like the flu. (Just to clear things up, I never truly thought I would catch The Gay. It is a running joke based on how a co-worker reacted upon learning that someone else was gay.)

Some of you may be shocked by this, but I’m a Christian. Not a great one. Probably not even a good one. But I think that’s what makes God love me. Because I’m fully aware of my imperfections. I also think that God wants us to quit judging. I think he made all people, gay or straight, equally. I think it is His place to judge people. Not ours. I also think that He loves that I will let Him take that responsibility. He wants it. He doesn’t want us to have it. We are biased. We say “don’t judge me!” yet we still judge. He sees our bias, our closed-minded views, how we don’t perceive all facts. He sees that and tells us that before we make the mistake of judging, that we shouldn’t even bother. It is a waste of our time. It causes hate, it causes anger, and sometimes it even causes war. He takes on that job, and for that, I’m grateful.

In the end, I think we should all remember that no one likes to be judged. We don’t even like to be judged if we trip while checking the mail or show up late to our son’s baseball game. We definitely don’t want to be judged based on our relationship status. This world is full of too many haters already, so the next time you see me, please don’t judge me.

-Meg

PWU

You all have to excuse my friend meg. She is still stuck with thinking having a crack berry is a cool thing while the rest of us are living with our Apple bliss! Now, for the topic at hand. She was talking about bad acting in porn. Though we often disagree on most things she is completely right on this subject. Personally, I think they should just skip any plots at all and just go straight to the fucking. After all, no man wants to be trying to jack-off with one hand while hunting the remote to fast- forward with the other! We just want raw, hard core sex. Usually it's just a way for us to squeeze one out and be done. For the sake of the women reading that want a story line though we do need a revolution. That is why I'm proposing we start porno watchers unite PWU. If there is going to be acting going on at least find someone that can act. The biggest issue of all of this is if women would be doing their damn job in the bedroom than the guy wouldn't need the porn. And if the woman is the one needing the porn then she is either super fat or super ugly because women can get a man any day. If the woman does have a man and she is still worried about the porn then her priorities are fucked up to start with. She needs to be taking care of her man in the bed and fixing his sandwiches! Right meg?

For the Birds

Well, apparently I can't post anything from my phone. Some of you may not appreciate this, but coming from someone who uses her phone for everything from reminders about ball games to making bomb threats proving people wrong through Google searches, this means damn near the end of the world or at the least a slight glitch in the matrix. My original post about how we suck was technically posted from my phone. However, it was riddled with typos and completely missing words. In essence, my Crackberry browser is not compatible with Blogger, and neither is Opera Mini. In fact, Opera Mini was way worse. Never fear, though, because I will learn to circumvent this shit. Even if I have to steal my daughter's iPhone.

This is all relevant why? Well, because I had a bomb ass topic and now I can't remember what the hell I was going to even write. Instead, I would like for you to ponder something for a few minutes. Because I know you have all the spare time in the world. This shit is almost as important as the purpose of life, so get ready... Why are there plots in porno films? These people aren't known for their acting skills. In fact, we (not necessarily me because I hate bad acting; therefore I don't watch porn) don't watch these flicks for the fake orgasms. They are so commonplace after a few minutes that we even start to turn the sound down if we weren't smart enough to mute it from the start. If it isn't for the acting skills, is it for us to justify a reason to watch more than two seconds?

Do we add the bad story line and horrible sets to justify or bring a humane reason to watching such "filth?"*

*Side Note: I really don't consider it filth, pointless, but not filth, but any holy roller or politician will pretend they've never watched it.

Does it add legitamacy to just pure sex? Does it make us feel better if they are saving the forest while getting off with a Rabbit?*

*Side Note: Not the animal kind, the kind that takes batteries. I don't even know why I'm clarifying this.

In the end, I think the acting is for a theme, for a role play, because we all like to fantasize a little. Even if our fantasies are as pure as owning ocean-front property in the Caribbean or as weird as getting a golden shower while eating a twinkie. I think we should make it our mission to improve the quality of storylines in these films. Fuck Occupy Wall Street! Let's start a new revolution.

My retard friend

Hi, my name is Tim and I'm the one super gimp of this duo. As meg has said, we are closer than a blind man with his seeing eye dog! I will be posting blogs somedays based on my stories from the day and other days will be telling stories of past events and things worthy of a comedy movie! For now I'm going to end with my new nickname "the program". So all you ladies need to get with the program. Stayed tuned for my next few blogs about a gimp in Vegas and wheelchair curb jumping in Nashville! Dysfunctional!

We Suck!

Ok, so I set this up a week ago, and this is the first opportunity I have had to post anything. Since we are such slackers, I figured I would do a brief intro.

My name is Meg and I am the co-author of this blog aong with Super-Gimp, Tim.  We are accountants by choice, and ninjas by birth. Not really, but that sounds much better than: I'm an uber bitch, and he is an inbred pansy.

We actually went to college together but only became friends once we started working together. We were attracted to each other's  friendship like Charlie Sheen is attracted to coke. We have a sick need for each other, and most people do not understand it. We are verbally abusive, full of love, full of emotion, and we share the desire to laugh until we piss our pants.

While we used to spend every day together, now we see each other so rarely, a reunion is as cherished as an STD-free hooker. This blog is a way for us to share our lives with each other and with you. Because this shit is hilarious, y'all.