Half-Nekkid Ewe Feet

For the first time EVER I have a guest HNTer for Half-Nekkid Thursday. Ewe Girl has adorable monkey feet and I wanted to showcase them for you all. Next week I'll be showcase her girls because life sucks without friends that have nice racks to share.For more half-nekkidness, go see Osbasso and show him your goods!

*And yes, Shadeboy the picture is in B&W as per requested by the great Ewe Girl and I cannot deny her anything.


**Happy 33rd Birthday to H2. No, he doesn't read this blog, but I thought I'd say it anyway.

HA BITCHES!

So every time I put my URL into this damn site I got shit. Your blog is worth $0.00 you stupid-assed bitch. Today, I got this:

My blog is worth $26,533.38.
How much is your blog worth?

Superfucktards

I saw Superman tonight at a 10:00pm showing. To the parent(s) that brought their infant/toddler to the movie: You are fucking morons.

Oh, and the movie was good.

Picture Pages

I'm too tired to blog, however I wanted to share what Ewe Girl and I did today on a whim*.

This is the second time I've pierced my nose, the first time I had to remove it after three months for my current real job. FUCK THAT.

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This is Ewe Girl's first piercing. It is called an "industrial" piercing. HOT!

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Tomorrow I will attempt a post with actual sentences and paragraphs and WORDS that make you laugh "ha ha ha" until you pee just a little.

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*The piercing wasn't on a whim, the timing was on a whim. Does that make sense? I've been talking about redoing my nose piercing for a while. I'm so happy I did it!

**Notice the color of my eyes? What the fuck color is that, anyway? I think I should make up a new eye color name, like mush. Yes, that's right. My eyes are a gentle shade of mush.

***Does the title ring a bell? Go here for a blast from the past. Don't ask me why that came into my brain as I was thinking of a title for this post.

Half-Nekkid Half of My Legs + SHOES!

Here's your fucking picture:Okay, onto important things like ranting while drinking. I worked my ass off today. I took care of Baby Z (12 hours), took care of Chicken (8 hours), packed Chicken's bags (20 minutes) and now I'm taking care of Patron Silver on A WEEKNIGHT AND I DARE YOU TO JUDGE ME. I FUCKING DARE YOU.

Things that bug the living shit out of me for no good reason:
Personalized license plates. Even worse, license plate frames that state the make/model of the car. I'm pretty fucking sure that when your car says Toyota Corolla on the rear you don't need to reiterate it on the license plate. Really. I promise. I know you're proud, but I'm fucking tired of reading that shit.

Fucking stickers all over your car. I don't want to get to know you. If I did, I'd call you and ask your lame ass out. I don't care if you support baby harp seals. I personally find them tasty. If they weren't meant to be eaten, why do they taste so damn good?

Chain emails. Here's a sample so you understand what I'm talking about:

Fwd: fwd: fwd: Happy Teddy Bears and Bunnies

from: summer@bullshit.com
to: my whole fucking address book

from: autumn@sucksass.com
to: my whole fucking address book

etc.

Look at all the happy pictures! Happy. Pictures. Of. Bunnies. I send you them because you are my friend. I care about you, just not enough to send you a personal email.

If you don't want to die a horrible, chaste death you must send this to everyone in your address book. If you want to continue to be my friend, send this back to me because I am a fucking needy cunt.

I'd sign this email but the people that send them never take the fucking time to add this courtesy. Why can't people remove all the prior addresses/forwards/fuckall and just say "Hey, thought you would like this, love me"?

I'm waiting for french fries and a sundae. I hear the 'vette pulling into the garage. Yummy. Later, losers!!

Hot Shower Pics

It is a rare event when Chicken takes a shower without an urgent knock on the wall that separates the shower from the living room. Occasionally the knock is for a washcloth due to a bloody nose. Usually it is a demonstration of how his shampoo can double as a super huge bubble facilitator. Although Chicken is VERY modest and won't even walk around the house without a shirt on, when he is in water it creates a distortion of the atmosphere which renders his nudity impossible for the mere human eye to see. Tonight the knock was to show off his shower hair do. I cannot believe how long his hair has grown, it has never been this long. All the better to make mohawks with I suppose!

Oh, and when I title this post Hot Shower Pics I mean, "My kid is taking a hot shower and here are some G-rated pictures of this perfectly harmless activity in which no animal was tortured or maimed however shampoo or soap may have been abused."

Magnificent

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Chicken thinks he looks like his dad (H1) in this shot. I agree.

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For some reason this shot reminds me of Corinna.

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In other not so steamy news, I have a few housecleaning items to attend to in no particular order:

• My blog celebrated its 1st birthday on June 17, 2006 by not posting a damn thing.
• I celebrated one year of not smoking on June 11, 2006 by getting the shit sunburned out of my upper body.
• I spent Father's Day in a funk due to my lack of a living father. One (1) blogger remembered and sent me a very sweet email. When I'm feeling more festive I shall hump her leg and admire her new "C" cups.

I will feel more "Sam-like" soon and post funny things in a feeble attempt to garner attention and/or sex from girl bloggers.

No Fucking Way

Last Friday night H3.2, Ewe Girl and I had a small gathering at Casa Sam while the Chicken was away. As it was Friday, I was exhausted and hurting like a mother fucker. Let me tell you, mother fuckers do hurt. They may prance around like ponies in heat but boy they are in pain. In a mature move I begin drinking with Ewe Girl around six pm to ease the pain. Physically I was feeling like a fucking champ by the time guests arrived. Cackling like a mad fucking hatter (I'm going for the most usage of the word fuck in one post here) I was having a grand time. Until IT happened. I embarrassed myself in a move so swift, so unique that no one has ever fucked up like I fucked up that fucked up night. NEVER.

H3.2 has a social circle bound by the love of a particular type of car that is as much of a fickle bitch as yours truly. Most of the guys I have met on several occasions, however I suck ass when tasked with putting names and the stories I hear together into one coherent verse. There is one story has stuck with me through the year plus that H3.2 and I have dated. One girl had the privilege (?) of popping quite a few cherries in H3.2's group. I know of six guys, though there could be more. I don't have anything against cherry-popping (really, it's fun I say!) but to pop that many in one social group is not in good taste I am sure. Unless you are double-dog dared. Then it's all good.

Back to the party, during which I bring up virginity and cherry-popping. Teddy Bear is kind enough to make the popping noise with his mouth. I giggle and mention the chick that popped all the cherries. Teddy Bear points to the guy sitting behind me and says:

You mean his sister?

Oh.
My.
Fucking.
Gawd.

No way. Yes way. NO WAY! The poor guy rattles off three different guys that his sister deflowered. I babble apologies and have the good manners to be thoroughly embarrassed. I keep my drunken mouth shut about the other guys. Can you imagine? "Hey dude, didn't you know that your sister fucked a bunch of your other friends?" Damn. Later that evening I was reminded that one of the cherries was sitting on the other side of me. With his current girlfriend. How uncomfortable was that? FUCK. Another of the cherries was at the party earlier in the evening. He heard about it the next day. Doh! Good job, Sam. Good job!!

Half-Nekkid Navel

I got my belly button pierced in April of 2005, knowing that it would take a normal person 6-9 months for the wound to heal. My kick-ass immune system leisurely strolled along and 12ish months later my piercing was healed. To celebrate, I bought a new sparkly thingie for my belly. Isn't it purdy? I loves it.

For more Half-Nekkidness, go see the "Hung Like King Kong Man of the Year" Osbasso.

A pictorial Recap of The Past Days

Friday
Ewe Girl and I drank until we stopped. She was celebrating/mourning the loss of a dude. I was drinking to kill the pain of fibro. It worked. We had fun. Oh, and a bunch of people showed up to party with us. Then I made an ass of myself. In a huge way. It was hilarious. Next post, I promise.

Saturday
My visitor. Fuck you man. Fuck you. No hangover, just Fibro hating me.
Sunday
Roadtrip with H3.2 and his buddies. I was not expecting the trip to last SIX hours and the top of the Corvette to be removed. H3.2 took this picture cause I was driving bitches!
A pit stop during the road trip. A random conglomeration of vehicles, including two motorcycles joined the fun. *Motorcycles not pictured. I think you know what they look like. Two wheels. A seat. Motorcycles. Okay?
Fucked up sunburn after the roadtrip on Sunday. I wasn't worried. My Lebanese blood would turn that shit to brown in a few days.

Monday
My cocky ass got FUCKED UP. Love the blisters. Skin cancer, here I come. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.

Grrr...

I'm alive, just fussy and pissy and not good company for even my blog friends. Hopefully later I will:

A) Take enough Xanax to calm my nerves
B) Drink enough tequila to calm my nerves
C) Find out where the sweet spot of mixing the two is
D) Not blissfully pass out before blogging something embarrassing

HNT Drunk N Stupid

Remember the night I got wasted and the poor Corvette got rear-ended and I fell down a couple of stairs and hurt my poor bottom? Yeah, me neither. Apparently I shoved my titties in a camera wielded by one of H3.2's friends and stuck out my tongue displaying my lack of a piercing in that location. I'm not sure why my tongue is on display. I didn't even realize the shirt could display cleavage. It was brand new and I was piss drunk.

Happy Half-Nekkid Thursday! Go see Osbasso for more interesting nekkidness!

PS This post is dedicated to Anne, because I'll do anything for a hot, pouty chick!

PPS I do not, in any way endorse Pepsi or its Diet derivative. I'm just too lazy to edit it out of the picture.

Hold Your Breath

Will I post an HNT? Will the ONE margarita cause me to pass the fuck out and forget all about my dear readers? I do not know.

Um...Yeah

Boys have penises and girls have vaginas. Not always, but usually. I think.

Post Script: I do have some interesting/horrific posts concerning Wal-Mart and guinea pig genitalia that will be coming soon. First I need to get rid of that damn kid wonderful son of mine. He's flying to Detroit tomorrow with his grandma. Woo Hoo!! Partay!!

Gone Fishing

On Thursday Chicken and his Poppa (my ex-step-dad) went on a deep sea fishing trip for the day. Poppa has been promising this trip for YEARS, so Chicken was thrilled to skip school and spend the day on a boat. He caught 8 fish and had a blast, so I must be the proud mommy and post a few pictures.

A sidenote to other mommies of 9ish year old boys: What is with the "I want to grow my hair out thing"? Really. This is a child that considered more than 3/4 of an inch of hair on his forehead bangs and something to be avoided at all costs. He even cut his own hair earlier this year because his bangs were too long. ??? Oh well, enjoy the pics.

Chicken meditating to clear his mind of all non-fishing related matters.

I am THIS excited about fishing.

Chicken's bonito!

So... I was searching for the correct spelling of bonito because I thought it might be bonita, which means pretty in Spanish. This is what bonita turned up on Google images:
What H3.2 said regarding this image: "Sweetie, you know I don't like it when you put pictures of your ass up on the 'net."

Camera Update: We should receive the camera back from Canon on Monday or Tuesday. Do not despair!

Good Fucking Enough

I finally finished the MUST HAVE links on my sidebar and although I have given up on the I Peed A Little quotes I am happy to report that my blog did not die a horrible death the other day.

For those of you that missed the excitement, I accidentally deleted much of my blog template, did NOT preview it and hit the publish button. I do not recommend this course of action. No, I sincerely regret the insane stupidity that took over my being.

In other WOW I CAN'T BELIEVE I'M WASTING MY TIME READING THIS SHIT news, I baked a chocolate cake last night. The first gluten-free chocolate cake I have baked. The first cake I have eaten in 3 years. Well, my 31st birthday my mother found some foul crap at an even fouler bakery that was GF. It tasted like ripe, hard, crusted ass. I have much experience in the tasting of ripe, hard, crusty ass so I would know. Trust me. I was scared to bake it, knowing that if it sucked I would never again taste cakey goodness ever again. EVER. AGAIN.

However, I am a fabu-fucking-lous baker and other than being a tad dry (easily remedied) it was the best cake that was ever caked in the history of cakes. I would have rubbed it all over my snatch if that would not have been considered wasteful of a perfectly good cake, because I cannot eat cake off of my snatch. H3.2 could, but FUCK he can eat regular cake off of my womanly parts so I'm not wasting the precious non-glutinous nectar on him.

I love cake, and it loves me.

My Other BF

Recently I have been receiving phone calls from a particular phone call. Specifically 614-761-0941. The first time my phone rang with this number on the caller ID Mr. Freaky Pants AKA H3.2 looked up the area code and informed me that someone from Ohio was calling me and who exactly was it? Of course I said it was my other boyfriend. H3.2 pressed on and the only person I could think of was Erin (I think??) but Erin doesn't have my phone number. Then I began this whole scenario in my head where Erin is stalking me and will one day show up on my front door totally nekkid and we'll have hot, steamy discussions about life and children and WHACKING.

Fantasies aside, I chose to be proactive and label the phone number MY OTHER BF just for shits and giggles. I wanted to know if it WAS INDEED the same number that had been calling or just a similar number or if I was crazy. Strike that last part. I'm a fucking lunatic and everyone knows it.

Tonight my phone rang and what do you know? It was My Other BF calling me. Of course, I missed the damn call but I decided to call him back. That's what you do when you miss a call from your other boyfriend, right?

Stanley Steemer voicemail picked up, and I left a message in my almost best valley girl imitation:

Hi, this is Sam Stories and my number is 890-555-1212. You have been calling me in the past weeks and not leaving a message and it is like totally freaking my boyfriend out. Could you like please call me and leave a message so I know why you are calling? Thanks, ba-bye!

Sidenote: It is spelled S-t-e-e-m-e-r, not steamer like one would assume. Would you like to know why? Look here. Fascinating stuff I tell you.

Animal HNT

I have a story to tell, and seeing how this is Sam's Stories I thought this would be the place to tell it.

There once was a beautiful camera purchased by H3.2 early in 2005. Throughout the past yearish I have used this camera many, many times to wow my dear readers with Half-Nekkidness. Other than the occassional HNT shot, H3.2 hardly used his camera. I have taken pictures of everything but my vagina it seems. Animals, trees, school children and a variety of dildos and massage oils have been photographed.

Recently, H3.2 took his camera to Yosemite and beyond. During this excursion he fucking BROKE the camera. Thus, the camera is at the place where cameras are unbroken. Therefore, I have no new HNT photo of my lovely posterior or interior as the case may be. However, I do have slightly old pictures involving a part of my body and cute, fuzzy critters. H3.2 takes full responsibility for your extreme disappointment.

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The cutest little baby mouse ever in the history of baby mice.

It's a big world out there!

"Are you my mother?"

Sidenote: For those of you that were perplexed by my narrow description of my readership demographics, I was trying to appease H3.2. He does not appreciate my talk of finding another man for some odd reason that I cannot explain.