Tonight started out with a bang!  Angie and I set out to fetch my baby sis from Crazyville then we headed to a cool club y cantina for some drinks and dancing.  One more lovely lady was supposed to meet us, but she had an opportunity to get her swerve on and decided that ranked higher on her priority list than booty bouncing with three stunning beauties. I'm with you, I have NO Idea what she was thinking!

     Upon arrival, just after 9pm, we strutted into the club (y cantina), found a table and set up camp, piling our tiny purses and Angie's lunchbox on the table.  Before we knew it, we had a margarita (mine), a Yagerbomb (Baby sis') and Angie's ginormous bottle of ale.  Happy ladies indeed!   As designated driver and certified cheap date, one margarita was it for me, my cohorts tossing back a few more Yagerbombs each while the y cantina was transformed into a bass thumping, ass shaking, bumping and grinding night club.   After the security staff was finished moving the tables, clearing the space that was to become the dance floor and setting up ropes to corral the suckers not smart enough to arrive before the $10 a head cover charge was imposed,  Angie went out to pinch the bouncer's nipple and kill her lungs, but not before stopping at the bar to make friends with the hot bartender and ordering more drinks, and the baby sis and I made the dance floor our bitch.  We lathered, rinsed and repeated this sequence of events for the next few hours, managing to fill the times we were all  at the table with a ridiculous amount of laughter, generally at the expense of those around us. 

     So, there we were: dancing, and singing, and moving to the grooving, and that's when it hit me, my body turned around and shouted, "Where the hell is Angie, white guy?"  My sister was a little peeved to be called white guy, but she quickly got over it when I pointed to our table. Angie and her lunch pail were gone. Vanished, POOF!  No mas.  We looked in the restroom, out on the patio, in the DJ booth, but she was no where to be found.  We had seen her talking to the bartender before we started the dirty dancing portion of our evening, maybe he had something to do with her disappearance?  I do wish to apologize to anyone close to Angie for losing her on her second night here.  I suppose that will put a damper on the people wanting to come out and meet me in the future?

Angie!, wherever you are... If you read this message: PHONE HOME!! 

   Half the calories but all the flavor of blog original!  For those who live in their mommy's basements, I, the magnificent Raven, will be corrupting the mind of our fine Shupe-a-rella for the next 3 rum soaked nights and man ogling days. Or vice versa? Rest assured that corrupting will be done, ogling will occur, and someone's something or other will never be the same.  That's right, you read it here first, Shupe and Raven sitting by the sea, t-a-n-n-i-n-g!  I have already had the esteemed privilege of meeting one fine specimen of Internet manhood and one of my favorite people (most of the time) a month ago, but due to international trade regulations, his identity must be kept a secret.  Plus, he knows too much about me, so I need to keep that one close.  So that's two names to check off the list, no, not THAT list, the "good" list.  

   I'm off to check the supply cabinet, and by supply, I mean liquor.  If you don't hear from us for the next few days, get out of the house and do what we'll be doing.  PLAY!!  Now, where did I put those leather chaps....

   The baby sis and I went out tonight and had the manly bonding at a cool little Mexican joint right down the road from me.  Why is this news? It's not, shut up! Did you not get the memo that I have decided to blog about every mundane moment in my day?  No?  That's because my days are far from mundane and my skinny pants are in the shop, so I can't write in my journal.  Now, may I continue?  On Mondays, all day (9am-9:30pm) this place has margarita Mondays!  What's so special about margarita Mondays you innocently inquire? Well, margaritas for $.50, that's what!  That's what we said! Margaritas for $.50? Get the hell out!! They are deliciously sour, made with fresh squeezed juices and the like and $.50!!.  The hubby was so kind to drive our happy asses down there, drop us off and pick us up again.  I'm sure he figured that would be easier than bailing our asses out of jail later. Maybe I should have him bronzed? Gilded?  Where was I going with this?

     Right, the baby sis and I dropped a bank breaking $6, which bought us dessert AND a few margaritas each.  She's not a big fan of tequila really, and I'm a cheap date, or we would have spent a lot more.  Now one margarita makes me tipsy, so for $1.50, I was downright silly!  You would think that on Margarita Monday the place would have been packed, but there were only 6 other people in there, and only 4 of those people were drinking margaritas.  The young men at the table next to us were making the most of margarita Monday and ordering theirs a cool dozen at a time, the waiter bringing out a tray full each time. When we left, they were on their second tray!  It sounds really impressive to say we closed the place down, but really, it was only 9:30pm, so who are we fooling? We know we aren't that hip.

    With this being our first trip to margarita Monday, we took it easy on the fine young men working there tonight. But...since we enjoyed it so much, we've decided to make a little ritual out of it, partaking in them a few times a month, ok, maybe every Monday, and attempting to cajole more people into coming with us!  As it gets warmer, and stays light longer, we'll just walk down from my house. If you see a stumbling, laughing assortment of people wandering around, you'll know it's not some impromptu parade.  Well, it might be?  Monday nights---drinks are on me!!

     Who's in next week? 

Spring has Sprung!

Reach out and touch someone inappropriately...

I'm off to infect innocent people with Spring fever

Love and wet kisses

~Raven~

     Happy St. Paganhaters Day to everyone!  Yes, that's right, the Magnificent Raven here once again to viciously mock and openly detest yet another "holiday" of unclear origin that mindless sheep all over the place love to flock up and celebrate.  So who was the man, the myth, the crusader for all that is pristine and good St. Patrick?  There are many versions of many stories, and everyone will believe what suits them best, am I right? I usually am, no point in wasting breath answering, save it to scream profanity at me later, ok?  Being the petite giver Goddess that I am, I'll just link you to one version and you can whip out your Google and thrust it in my youtube later.  So, here's a little something to get this party started.

     I cannot confirm nor deny having any Irish in my genetic make-up bag because my mother is crazier than a shit house rat, but it wouldn't matter at all if I did. I still wouldn't waste my time acknowledging a man who drove the Pagans out of Ireland (no, not the snakes. In case you were unaware, there WERE NO SNAKES in Ireland!!) because he felt compelled to bring Christianity to the asses, I meant masses. He just couldn't leave those practicing their rituals alone, could he? Bastard. Does that seem a bit closed minded and judgmental of me?  Good, that's exactly how I meant it.  Nice to see my point coming across loud and clear.  Following the flock just isn't my thing. If you're wondering where my religious beliefs fall you have probably never spent any face to face time with me, so when I'm done you can find someone to hold you while you write about how I hurt your feelings in your journal.  I don't believe in God and I follow nothing that can be described as an organized religion. Any other questions can be directed to my in-box or perhaps answered by directing your attention to the shiny sterling pentagram cuff I wear on my right wrist. Oh, and before you douse your computer in holy water, my pentagram is single point up. Do some research, learn something new, think for yourself. It's fun! 

     So what put my knickers in a twist today then?  I ventured out in public this morning.  I KNOW, really shouldn't do that without a police escort for the safety and well being of others.  To my horror, but not at all a surprise, I got to witness to all the mindless sheep milling about out in public bedecked in green, sporting shamrocks, talking of quaffing green beer, clogging their arteries with corned beef, and the ever present mother cluckers that just don't understand the grave danger they put themselves in when their cock holsters spew forth such violence inducing phrases as, "But everyone is Irish on St. Patrick's Day".  Oh really? Now that is one more memo I didn't get.  When I find that memo boy I'm going to flog him soundly.  If you aren't an Irish Catholic, what the fuck are you doing celebrating today?  Baaaaa.....Haaaapy St. Paaaatrick's Day.  Eat me, I may or may not be Irish, but I taste soooo fucking good!

I reached down and let my hand stroke the unfamiliar fabric, smiling a guilty smile as I deftly manipulated the zipper.  Working the zipper down, I slipped one hand inside, and using only my sense of touch, sought out something I knew could be dangerous.  Still, I needed to find out how it felt in my hand, so I continued with my exploration.  Driven by curiosity and knowing that what I was about to do could be viewed as taboo in many cultures, I wrapped my fingers around the shaft , extending my index finger up to gently caress the length, enjoying it's hardness against my warm palm.  I slowly pulled it out, biting my bottom lip and letting my eyes flutter closed momentarily as it sprang free from it's fabric dungeon, thinking to myself, "it's magnificent, and much heavier than I expected". 

As I manipulated it, I realized how well matched we were, I just couldn't stop touching it.  Electricity moved through my body, I felt alive and free and fierce.  My senses tingled, driving me to thrust my empty hand back into the zipper, delighted when I found a second hard shaft awaiting my skilled fingers. Yes! Two!  Fueled by an adrenaline rush that stiffened my nipples and threatened to lift me off the ground, I whipped the second one out and held both up level with my face, now smiling broadly.  With my hands wrapped snugly around each of my new found loves, I brought them back to rest at my sides.  Individually, I thrust one out, tentatively flipping it point out then with a skill that delighted and surprised me, quickly flipped it back to rest against my forearm.  Repeating this series of movements with the other one, I fell a little deeper in love.  Could this be what I was waiting my whole life to find?  I continued to work each one in, out, in, out, in and out, until my forearms were burning and sore.  That's when I was discovered.  All that time a man had been watching me, smiling at my natural skill and perfect form.  "You mind if I show you a few more moves?" he asked, smiling challengingly at me.  Eyes wild and flashing fire I said breathlessly, "Yes...please". 

Taking his out, he would perform a trick, I mirrored it. He'd smile and try something more difficult, but again, I mirrored each of his moves, wielding my weapons with stunning skill and impressive agility.  As I completed all of the challenges he offered up, my expression became serious as I lunged forward, thrusting the objects in my hand out menacingly and letting loose with a guttural war cry.  Quickly flipping both weapons in to rest against my forearms again I realized, this was my destiny.  The Sai are my weapon, I was born to fight with them.

Now all I need is a red lycra bodysuit...

Not as easy as you might think.  It's really hard to only use one word answers. After completing this I realized that I revealed about me in each one word answer because even I can't be THAT sarcastic when limited to one word.  Such a challenge, thanks for the distraction Jean!

1. Where is your cell phone? purse
2. Your significant other? sleeping
3. Your hair? curly
4. Your mother? crazy
5. Your father? dealing
6. Your favorite thing? sunshine
7. Your dream last night? sensual
8. Your favorite drink? water
9. Your dream/goal? happiness
10. The room you're in? living
11. Your ex? Texas
12. Your fear? nothing
13. Where do you want to be in 6 years? happy
14. Where were you last night? bed
15. What you're not? forgettable
16. Muffins? coconut
17. One of your wish list items? traveling
18. Where you grew up? California
19. The last thing you did? walked
20. What are you wearing? lipstick
21. Your TV? off
22. Your pets? many
23. Your computer? notebook
24. Your life? evolving
25. Your mood? pensive
26. Missing someone? yes
27. Your car? small
28. Something you're not wearing? pants
29. Favorite Grocery Store? Albertson's
30. Your summer? Warm
31. Like someone (crushing?) Yes
32. Your favorite color? Purple
33. What Are You Thinking About Right Now: destiny
34.Your Favorite Book: "Women..."
35.Your Life: 24
36.Your Mood:  conflicted
37. When is the last time you laughed? recently
38. Last time you cried? Wednesday
39. Who should re-post this? pfffffft!

*Warning: The following post was written by a trouble maker with no sense of decency whatsoever.  It may contain brief periods of frontal violence, graphic nudity and is not intended for people with cold hearts, rigid morals, erectile dysfunction or lumps of coal shoved up their tight asses.*  If anyone is left...Enjoy!

Grab each day by the balls and squeeze it for all it's worth!  That's all, I'm outta here, I'll be spending quality time pleasuring myself whilst upside down in my fucking chair if you need anything. 

Wait, no, come back...I have a few more things to say.  I'd like to tell you that my thoughts will march politely out of my head and line up single file on the page, but we all know that will never happen. My fingers, although nearly as skilled as my mouth, do not move as fast as my brain, so I apologize in advance if I get a little excited and anyone is groped or touched inappropriately in the rekindling process.  Now everyone behave nicely and keep your hands where I can see them, this pole is about to get a much needed buffing!

Sometimes people like to storm off in a huff over something I may have done, or not done, and more times than not, something I have said.  I push buttons, violate boundaries and cross lines, not to mention the way I test your patience like no one else can. I could apologize, lay the cape over your shoulders a la James Brown, and beg you to give me another chance. Are you waiting for my magnificent but?  As soon as I return from my ice skating tour of Hell, I'll get right on that. If you can't wait until the 12th of Never, 2000 suck it, how about we try this on for size:  If you have something to say to me, pull up your big boy panties and use your words.  Unless you are sitting in my house with me, you have no idea what I have going on at any given moment, but chances are, if it's before 9pm, I'm extreme multi-tasking, which I understand is being considered as a new Olympic sport. To get pissy with me because I haven't managed to initiate a conversation in a timely fashion or at all, or if my response time isn't to your liking just makes me want to roundhouse kick you in the head.  Cut me some fucking slack and DO NOT for one second think you have any idea what's going on with me or who's hands are in my pants at the moment.  Are we clear or do I need to act this out in interpretive dance?

Now we will begin the touchy feely portion of our program. In the words of the immortal poet Kid Rock, "I feel funny, and I smell like sex, But in my heart I have no regrets"  Ok, maybe that was not the most poetic way to convey my message, but what I'm saying is having regrets creates an unnecessary burdening of your soul.  At least that's what I think I was saying, let me just sit here on top of you and think for a minute.  Well, that didn't really help me remember what I was thinking, but damn it felt good! Ok, yes, I recommend everyone avoid feeling regret and instead embrace that what you do is exactly what you want at that moment, and each moment is special.  Last night I returned to the dojo after missing the last 3 classes and one of my favorite guys took me aside and told me some heart wrenching news.  When I left the dojo, not only was my body battered and sore, but so was my heart.  What he told me reminded me once again how precious and short life is.  Today, keeping in mind what my friend told me last night, I set off for the beach to engage in some musings and deep thoughts. (Don't tell anyone!) After a few hours of listening to the waves crash, feeling the sunshine on my bare shoulders and legs, and laughing aloud at the vision I had of epic wave battles, I couldn't get the smile off my face.  And no, I wasn't drunk OR naked.  I was back, and I was better, or worse than EVER!  FUCK IT FEELS GOOD!! 

My brief stint attempting to masquerade as a responsible adult and play nicely with others accomplished nothing but throwing a wet blanket on my fire for a little bit.  We can't have that now, can we?  Quit smiling because you know what made the blanket wet and focus, I'm still typing here!  So today I found my words, rekindled my fire, and while speeding down coast highway with the windows down and the music cranked up, I let my beautiful voice be heard.  The sound will resonate through you forever.  Cherish it.

Who's turn is it to warm my bed before I climb in?  *CLAP CLAP*