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Tales From The Asylum
With a decidedly dark and twisty side, a sarcastic edge and a passion for words - I surrender to my muse on a regular basis. It’s time to unleash the wenchery on the unsuspecting. I offer a quick disclaimer - I am not responsible for what happens in my head, it just happens - deal with it, I do!
Thursday, February 2, 2017
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
My Virtual Social Existence...Plenty of WTF
I took a stab at online dating – it
was not pretty. My options for meeting
someone are fairly limited – I work for a really small company (no interesting candidates there) and I
volunteer with an agency that is 98% women, unless I’m considering making a major lifestyle change...I don’t do the bar scene or casinos…come to think of it, this is
beginning to sound a little pathetic.
So, I took the plunge into online dating, what's the worst that can happen? I'm sure most of the online sites are the same so I won't point any fingers...but there may have been some 'fishing' involved.
So, I took the plunge into online dating, what's the worst that can happen? I'm sure most of the online sites are the same so I won't point any fingers...but there may have been some 'fishing' involved.
1st nibble: Message from a guy who is looking for a fun, fit, classy lady. Has he actually read my profile? I tried to discourage him politely, I'm new at this. I responded: "Thanks for your interest but, having read your profile, I'm not sure we are on the same page, good luck in your search”.
His response - he thinks I should spend a day on his boat. Let’s review the clues - I don’t know him, we’ve never spoken, never
met but he wants me to spend the day on his boat. I’m not sure about my swimming skills but I’m
thinking being a captive audience on a boat with a stranger is not in my best
interests. Call me skittish.
So, I took it up a notch: You are looking for
a fun, fit, classy lady - allow me to clarify.
I can have fun doing just about anything and stuff others would not find
nearly so amusing. I am physically
active and working on the fit part, but I am not there yet (a 'work in progress' at best). As for classy – the voices of everyone I have
ever known are laughing in the back of my head.
It’s not the first word that comes to mind when describing myself (it’s
not the second or third either). I can
pull off classy only under duress and for really, really short periods of time
but it’s not a regular feature and it will come unraveled without warning.
Incredibly, he still thinks we should
do coffee. Against my better judgement, I decide to make this a practise meet - dip my toe in the water. He knows only my first name, does not know
where I live and we are going to meet there...safe enough. Public place, I’ve got my car. No pressure 'cause I'm predicting this will fall flat. There is
a line in my profile that reads "I am not impressed by shiny cars, boats,
motorcycles, etc.” Buddy spends an hour and a half talking about his
boat. This is not my soul mate.
His interests include fiddle head greens and trout. I kid you not. Next.
2nd nibble: Long
haired, hippy character from the Beaches in downtown Toronto. We message back and forth for several
days. He is intelligent with a quiet sense of humor, well read.
Describes himself as a better listener than a talker (remember this; it’s going
to be important in a minute). We spoke on the phone a couple of
times, decide to meet at a park on Lake Ontario and go hiking the trails
for the afternoon. Maybe, in person, he will be a little more
talkative. We hiked for 3 and a half hours over every single inch of
trails in the area with a grand total of maybe, maybe 15 minutes of
conversation. That's a generous estimate and it wasn't all in a row. I, because I know me, made a point of not
filling all the silences; I don’t want to be single handedly responsible for
all the conversation. After one particularly long stretch of silence, I
turned to him and said "Are you always this talkative?" He
smiled shyly and said "Ya, I get that a lot, want I should shut up and let
you get a word in?". I e-mailed him back the next day and told him I
thought he was sweet but that my life would swallow him whole.
3rd nibble: Earl from Orangeville – way too involved with
his cat.
4th nibble: George – Newfie#1 – some blinky issue that,
I’m sorry, but really distracting and his answer to everything was
“well…there you go” – a little shy of stimulating conversation. George, there you go...just go...seriously go. Next.
5th nibble: 53 yr old Newfie #2 spewing psychological, metaphysical, quantum
physics, parapsychological, spiritual "stuff", quite convinced that
if he could just get a few minutes with the Dalai Lama, he could make his argument
that somehow he personally holds the key to the universe and would be more
than willing to release these truths and the photographic evidence contained in
a picture of his dearly departed quadriplegic friend thereof to the Dalai
himself, lives temporarily with his sister, has just discovered that the
insurance was cancelled on his pick up and his current dilemma is when to quit
working and head for NFLD to stay with his mother (have I mentioned 53??) and
time that with the interruption in his income while the annual EI kicks
in. Conversation will revolve around topics such as synchronicity,
numerology, duality and his intertwined opinions on matters that will make absolutely
no fkg sense whatsoever.
Seriously. I shit you not. Nuttier than a fruit cake stuffed full of squirrel poo.
He asked me what the chances were of seeing me again...uuummm. I bolted (I'm not proud of that...well, maybe a little). I rushed home and sent him a quick note explaining that while I found him interesting (okay, that's a stretch), he's a man clearly on a mission which I would never share with him. The faster he gets back to the mother ship, the better.
Of course, those are just the ones I’ve met. There have been a few other characters along the way who didn’t make it past an IM or two. There has been a recurring theme of height – most of the exchanges have been with tall men (insert your own vertically challenged joke here since 5’3” qualifies as taller than me, but seriously, 6’+). I was going to post a picture of myself beside an amusement park sign that read “you must be this tall for this ride”. One character emailed me a few times, we IM’d a couple of times, 6’4” tradesman. He asks for my cell#, I’m thinking that’s reasonably safe. 2 min later, he sends a picture to my cell while we are msn’ing with webcam. Imagine my surprise …. a very erect penis. How naïve am I? Never saw it coming. Wait, just reread that. Technically, he did ask if I'd like to watch him self amuse to the inevitable climax. Geez thanks...I appreciate the offer but count me out. Hey, wait a minute, that's what you've been working on while we were IM'ng...explains the slow response...one handed typing slows a man down. Impressive, I’ll give him that but there had been no conversation around nude pics. He asked for a pussy pic in return. The next day he got one - a spread eagle pussy shot. Apparently, that was not was he was looking for … who knew? The cat had posed perfectly - laid back, legs spread. He was fishing for a shaved pussy shot but I’m reasonably sure that Tigger was not up for that without some serious blood shed (mine). I will give him credit for a massive penis, in fact it was a little terrifying – settled the age old question about proportionality. Opted not to meet him. Next.
Seriously. I shit you not. Nuttier than a fruit cake stuffed full of squirrel poo.
He asked me what the chances were of seeing me again...uuummm. I bolted (I'm not proud of that...well, maybe a little). I rushed home and sent him a quick note explaining that while I found him interesting (okay, that's a stretch), he's a man clearly on a mission which I would never share with him. The faster he gets back to the mother ship, the better.
Of course, those are just the ones I’ve met. There have been a few other characters along the way who didn’t make it past an IM or two. There has been a recurring theme of height – most of the exchanges have been with tall men (insert your own vertically challenged joke here since 5’3” qualifies as taller than me, but seriously, 6’+). I was going to post a picture of myself beside an amusement park sign that read “you must be this tall for this ride”. One character emailed me a few times, we IM’d a couple of times, 6’4” tradesman. He asks for my cell#, I’m thinking that’s reasonably safe. 2 min later, he sends a picture to my cell while we are msn’ing with webcam. Imagine my surprise …. a very erect penis. How naïve am I? Never saw it coming. Wait, just reread that. Technically, he did ask if I'd like to watch him self amuse to the inevitable climax. Geez thanks...I appreciate the offer but count me out. Hey, wait a minute, that's what you've been working on while we were IM'ng...explains the slow response...one handed typing slows a man down. Impressive, I’ll give him that but there had been no conversation around nude pics. He asked for a pussy pic in return. The next day he got one - a spread eagle pussy shot. Apparently, that was not was he was looking for … who knew? The cat had posed perfectly - laid back, legs spread. He was fishing for a shaved pussy shot but I’m reasonably sure that Tigger was not up for that without some serious blood shed (mine). I will give him credit for a massive penis, in fact it was a little terrifying – settled the age old question about proportionality. Opted not to meet him. Next.
One of the guys who contacted me was
a nudist ...gotta check my profile, what made him think we’d be
compatible. I was bored, so we chatted
online for a few min, he asks if we can go on web cam (note to self: how bored do you have to be to let this happen?). Told him I was not going to turn on my
webcam, he opted to turn his on. You see
where I am going with this?? He had
mentioned he was a nudist, so maybe a shot of him sitting at
his desk sans shirt. Nope, camera comes
up and he’s standing there stark naked – full frontal, then does a full 360 and
asks me what I think. I think he’s nuts,
seriously, certifiably nuts. I'm not a prude, but a little warning would have gone a long way to prevent that little incident. Next.
At this point, I've spent enough time perusing dating profiles that I've decided to offer my "expert" opinion on self marketing in the world of online dating. First stop - the picture. What not to do:
If your profile picture includes something you've killed, we don't like that either. Look at me, speaking for the entire female gender - I've taken an informal poll and we concur, no carcasses. You think I'm kidding...
I know it can be challenging to take a decent "selfie", I get it. If you can't manage with a camera, web cam or phone - you must have one friend who can assist. I know this because a friend's profile pics were crap and I helped him (the new girlfriend is a bit of a bitch but I'm not responsible for that, I just polished up the bait...catch and release my friend, catch and release). And if, by some chance you manage a suitable picture, would it be asking too much for you to rotate it...
Fully aware of the irony of me criticizing anyone for pics they are posting while I can't figure out how to tidy this up...but this is my blog, not a dating profile, deal with it.
I'll wrap this up with some random wtf...
You, sir, have a mullet. That is never, never good form.
Excuse me, what's the nature of your relationship with your dog? Just asking...
A shoe. Just a shoe. Maybe it's a fetish thing...
You appear to have underwear on your head. Frilly pink underwear that may or may not be yours...not judging, not even curious.
For the record - if you refer to yourself as "witty and cleaver", you're not...same goes for "intelagent". If your profile includes the line "looking for a woman who can be sane, rational and logical - at least most days of the month"...we took a poll on that one too and you are never getting laid again.
If you have ever taken a foray into the world of online dating, you know what I mean. If you haven't, consider yourself warned. I'm told the women are as bad as the men - yay for gender equality. Good luck to anyone who's navigating the world of online dating, let me know how it turns out (and always, always be prepared with a good pussy picture).
~~~~the nasty wench~~~~
PS - this just in....
Sunday, April 13, 2014
Ode To a Walmart Greeter
All
due respect to Wal Mart Greeters around the world but if you ever walk into a
Wal Mart and I’m there greeting you, take me out to the parking lot and back
over me. Assume that I’m being held
hostage and I’m being made to sing that freaking Wal Mart rah rah cheer song in
the morning. I thought that was a rumor
when I first heard about it but I got into a Wal Mart early one morning and
they actually make their staff sing that asinine song. I cannot believe that it does not breach some
human rights legislation.
Greeters
don’t actually greet customers any more...it’s their entire job description
- it’s right in the title, it’s their
only task – greet the customers. They
might notice you, they might glance in your direction but rarely do they
actually acknowledge you. If you are
bringing in a returned item, they are apparently obliged to tag the bag and
instruct you to go directly to customer service. That’s it – a really short list of
responsibilities. I guess Wal Mart “I
might notice if you come in the store” person doesn’t carry the same cachet as
Wal Mart Greeter so it’s just easier to refer to them as greeters. I was in Wal Mart yesterday trying to free
one of the shopping carts from the herd that was apparently welded together
within about 4 feet of a handy dandy Wal Mart Greeter. As I struggled and the greeter watched, I was
thinking wouldn’t it be handy if you were a Wal Mart Cart Separator….but that
probably requires training and skills you just don’t have so you just sit there
while I pry these apart. And... she
did. In her defence, I guess someone has
to carefully guard that pocket full of return stickers for people who bought
the wrong crap and need to return it for other crap.
One
of the saddest things I think I’ve ever seen was a severely handicapped Wal
Mart Greeter - a young man curled up in the fetal position in his wheelchair
and parked near the door. Now, before
you get all offended about this particular observation, I am all for people
with serious physical challenges making their contribution to society. But there was something inherently wrong with
slapping a vest on this individual, rolling him over and parking him near the
door first thing in the morning and then retrieving him at the end of the day. If I have a return, am I supposed to reach
into his pocket for a sticker? I just
want to be clear on this; I don’t want to be explaining this particular maneuver to management...think maybe I’ll just keep the crap I bought and
avoid a fiasco. I worried about him,
what happens if they forget him there – he can’t roll away, he can’t call for
help. I hope someone’s checklist of
responsibilities includes retrieving the Greeter or he’s screwed.
In
the grand scheme of things, I’m adding “if you ever find me greeting customers
at Wal Mart” to the list of things for which I want to be euthanized. It’s probably going to require something more
legally substantial than a blog post to make this happen, but this is a start.
There
are 4 more situations on the list so far:
If
I utter the phrase “let’s go to bingo”.
Sitting
on a bench in the mall discussing bowel movements.
If
I start drawing my eyebrows on with a thick black marker a good half inch above their natural location.
Talking
incessantly about cats.
Now,
don’t get me wrong, I love cats but I sat down at a meeting the other night and
a board member seated beside me who I’d never met before rambled on about her
cats for a good half hour. This is an
educated, professional woman ….a lawyer if I’m not mistaken...and on an
evening out, the best she can come up with for conversation is an intensely
detailed account of her cats that included impersonations and psychoanalytical
play by plays. Behind closed doors you
are welcome to enjoy whatever relationship with your cats the law allows...but leave it at home - no one will ever love, appreciate or understand your
cats the way you do and that’s just the way the world works.
But,
I digress...where was I? Ah, yes…Wal Mart Greeter...I think my work here is
done.
~~~ the nasty wench~~~
Saturday, March 2, 2013
Coffee Enemas...how do you take your coffee?
Coffee Enemas...how do you take your coffee?
(for the record, orally...I take mine orally)
Coffee enema…this is a thing?? Color me surprised. My son was watching an episode of My Strange Addiction and shares this little gem with me. Not only is a coffee enema a thing, it’s a thing that can become addictive. Oh, do tell.
Gotta google that one, where else would one find a wealth of information on strange shit that people do? Sure enough, I get as far as “coffee e” and google knows exactly that I’m looking for – quite frankly, that’s a little disturbing. (note to self: remember to eradicate the browsing history on the computer when I’m done or no one is ever going to offer me a coffee again without giggling).
The first website gets directly to the question at hand - “Why in the world would someone take coffee in an enema?” Or as the voices in my head are demanding – WTF?? Among a long list of the benefits of said method of consuming caffeine, it claims to “Help with depression, confusion and general nervous tension”. Ummmm...I’m not sure at what point in a depressive episode it would occur to someone to fire up a coffee enema. As for confusion, the concept of a coffee enema confuses the crap out of me and nervous tension…I’d be some nervous about lubing up my rectum for my morning cup of joe.
It goes on to list increased mental clarity, improved energy levels, increased joy and happiness and reduction in anger amongst the virtues of the practise. Hey, guess what...it has the exact same effect if you consume it orally and it’s pretty tasty, too.
It
refers to the procedure as “somewhat inconvenient”...ya think…enema bag vs
coffee mug, you do the math on that one.
Better yet “able to be done in the privacy of your home”. Okay, I’m on board with that particular piece
of advice; in fact, I highly recommend you consume your coffee anally in the
privacy of your own home. Of all the
things that will get you banned from your neighborhood coffee shop, I’m willing
to bet a coffee enema would do it every single time.
The list of apparatus required includes an enema bag or bucket...I had no idea there was such a thing as an enema bucket - that sounds like a lot of coffee (perhaps I've led a sheltered life). While most practitioners recommend inserting a lubed up enema tip in the rectum, for a more thorough procedure it is suggested to first insert a 30” colon tube and then attach the enema tip. Ummm…as if the whole procedure is not weirdly invasive enough ...yikes.
I’m still pretty confused about this practise, sounds like a drunken party dare to me. The therapeutic recommendations for this procedure are that it be “repeated at least daily and up to three times daily for at least several years”. The doctor who pioneered the use of coffee enemas for cancer patients insisted on a schedule of 6 times a day, every 4 hours, for at least 2 years. Who the hell has got that kind of time? Six times a day, every 4 hours? If you hate being woken in the middle of the night in the hospital by a nurse checking your vitals, you are really not going to like this particular sleep disruption.
There are historical references to the practise of enemas, dating back to biblical times in the Dead Sea Scrolls….according to whose translation? Enemas as one of the healing miracles of Jesus…seriously? Something about seeking a large trailing gourd having a stalk the length of a man…suffering the end of the stalk to enter your hinder parts…nope. Not even if Jesus thinks it’s a good idea. Jamming a gourd stalk the length of a man up my butt is far more suffering than I’d be willing to consider. It does go on to say that, to the best of the author’s knowledge, Jesus did not recommend adding coffee to the cleansing water. Thanks for the clarification. Praise be.
For all the miraculous claims of the proponents of the coffee enema, I can’t help but wonder under what circumstances the first coffee enema happened. One account claims that a nurse in WWI accidentally dumped coffee in an enema bag for a soldier who was constipated as a result of anesthesia drugs and he reported being in less pain…thus, the coffee enema was born. Guessing it was a pot of cold coffee...I’ve had a scorched tongue from hot coffee, thinking a coffee scorched rectum would be considerably worse.
There’s been some research done with mice…that must be a shock to the poor little mouse. Of all the unnatural circumstances these rodents are exposed to in the name of science, this would be pretty bizarre (and where do you get a mouse size enema kit?). As for the research done on human subjects, I wonder how that project was presented. I’ve gone to university and was required, as part of my psychology credits, to partake in some research projects. I hope anyone opting to show up for this particular gem read the fine print ahead of time….if they signed up for the opportunity to participate in research examining the effects of caffeine consumption….the method of intake would have come as an unpleasant surprise.
There are some helpful suggestions like – do not get up and walk around while holding the enema in your bowels…no shit Sherlock. Use plenty of petroleum jelly (or shaving cream?) to lubricate the enema tip…check. A darker roast is somewhat more difficult to retain than a light roast…I don’t even want to know why. Using a little blackstrap molasses in the enema to help retain it, adding crushed garlic as a chemical mechanism to help dislodge yeast organisms...this all adds up to the world’s worse smoothie...no wonder you’d have to shove it up your ass, you sure as hell couldn’t stomach drinking it. Coffee, black strap molasses and crushed garlic…mmmmmm.
It goes on about the benefits of hydration and describes most people as quite dehydrated today. Not to be repetitive but I cannot stress this enough…..water and coffee consumed orally have the same effect...providing hydration and increasing mental alertness…with the added benefit of being a much simpler and more pleasing way to consume both.
I know some coffee places offer discounts and customer loyalty rewards for bringing in your own cup to fill up in the interest of reducing the use of disposable cups. Pretty sure the helpful little barista at the local coffee shop is going to be more than a little horrified if a customer offers up his or her enema bag/bucket for a refill. I doubt they have a button on the till for that option and I guarantee you they don't pay her enough to touch enema paraphernalia.
In research for this blog post, I’ve come across references to urine enemas, absinthe enemas, yogurt enemas…apparently there’s no limit to the list of things someone, somewhere has opted to intake anally.
I’m
fairly adventurous and usually quite open to new experiences but it has to be
said…not once, when asked how I take my coffee, have I ever answered “up my
ass - please”. For the record, I take my
coffee with milk...in a mug… always, always, always in a mug...orally…always
orally. If I’m going to jazz up my
coffee experience, I’ll throw in some Bailey’s or Kahlua.
~~~~~ the nasty wench ~~~~~
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Hooligan Penguin Sex
********Spoiler Alert*******
if you love penguins, turn back now before it's too late...
I loooooooove penguins. What’s not to love? There is something uniquely charming about these wondrous, waddling creatures - whether it’s the reality of March of the Penguins or the animated world of Happy Feet. I used to have a poster up in my office of a dishevelled penguin with the notation “Fuck it, I’m going home”. Even he had his charms (my boss did not share that opinion).
However, I’ve come across some penguin
information that is nothing short of devastating. Research notes for a 1915 publication by Dr.
George Levick have been discovered in the London Natural History Museum, including
notations that describe my lovable penguins as depraved hooligans. Say it isn’t so, George!
He goes on to describe thousands of
“hooligan” male penguins copulating with each other or dead females,
gang-raping injured females and molesting young chicks. What the fk Happy Feet?? Traumatized by his observations, the good
doctor stamped his notes on the sexual habits of the penguins as “Not for
publication” and cut them from his final book.
It was after all 1915, the public was not ready for these
revelations.
In a short and frenzied breeding season
that lasts only days, frantic single males mate with anything that looks
vaguely like a female assuming the position – be it a dead penguin or a rock .
Yes, sometimes even a rock becomes the recipient of some loving. Apparently the sex of the target – dead or
alive (cue Bon Jovi) - is a bit of a crap shoot, male and female penguins are
hard to tell apart, even for penguins.
It’s not like the males are in the traditional tux and tails and the
females in formal gowns, maybe I’ll give them a pass on that one, who am I to
judge?
As for the whole necrophilia thing – given
their environment, the bodies of deceased penguins are preserved in good
condition, several years passing before they lose their “fresh
appearance”. The assumption is that they
are not attracted to the dead but rather the position. “A dead penguin lying with its eyes half open
is very similar in appearance to a compliant female”. Nothing like that come hither frozen death
stare. The bar is set pretty low for
this amorous pursuit. There’s clearly not
a lot of sexual response expected from the female of the species, her participation
would be the same if she was living or several years deceased. Not bad enough to die and have your corpse
lay on the frozen landscape for years, your carcass is then at the mercy of a
bunch of sex crazed males humping everything in sight in perpetuity. Men of the world, pay attention, for all your
complaining about partners who aren’t very responsive in bed, it could be
worse, you could be a penguin. If your
partner has a pulse, advantage you. If
she’s conscious, bonus. Maybe penguins
were the inspiration for the term “dead fuck”.
As for the chicks, the males are given the
benefit of the doubt on this one – they may simply be collateral damage in the
sexual frenzy. Maybe that’s easier than
adding pedophile to their list of deviant behaviors. In their blind lust to fornicate the crap out
of everything in sight, molesting the chicks is merely a faux pas. What a bunch of assholes.
This information lay dormant in the museum
archives for a century, Dr. Levick having opted to protect Edwardian British
society at the time from penguin depravity.
My penguin illusions have been shattered. I can’t unring this bell. Visions of Happy Feet now tainted with the
imagery of packs of marauding testosterone driven male penguins, blinded by the
drive to mate, mounting all things mountable.
I’m crushed. Hey, Morgan Freeman,
narrate the creep factor out of this penguin story line.
Maybe what happens in the Antarctic should
stay in the Antarctic.
~ the nasty wench ~
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