Mike is in Tampa once again having sex with people he doesn’t know, doesn’t love and won’t ever see again, (lucky bastard) and I’m here in his computer room popping wheelies on my brand new Hoveround. I only wish I had bought one of these years ago. The offspring even fixed it so it makes that loud beeping noise when I put it in reverse. Now the only time I have to use my legs is when I lift ‘em & spread ‘em for sex.
While I’m always glad to write South’s updates, it leaves me feeling slightly ill. You know how you feel when you see an old bf/gf that you were crazy about but haven’t seen in years? You’re excited, but you just know a bout of profuse vomiting is in your future. Well, that’s how I feel right now. Luckily I’m within driving distance of the bathroom.
Once again we shall begin with a list of all of the things South forbids me to do while I’m here and in charge of his site. Normally I find these rules either on the front door, held firmly in place with a butcher knife, or on his padlocked refrigerator, held in place with a “What Would Jesus Do?” magnet. (BTW, South, I certainly don’t think Jesus would begrudge me one of His Hebrew National hot dogs!)
This time we had the conversation over IM.
South: “No way in Hell are you putting up Halloween clip art on my site.”
Me: “What?! Not even the big blinking cat eyes?! Dude. That’s harsh!”
South: “That’s your problem. And no way in Hell are you using those cutesy emoticons.”
Me: But…but…how will I properly convey my feelings without my “who gives a fuck” smiley or my “are you a parking ticket? cuz you have fine, fine, fine written all over you” emoticon??
South: “That’s your problem. No way in Hell is your dog allowed on the premises!!”
Me: “Fine. She chewed through all of the backseat seat belts anyway, and apparently it’s illegal to drive with a Lab strapped to the hood of your car. I could put her in the front seat, but that’s where I keep all my junk food and my pitcher of Margaritas.”
South: “That’s your problem.” (Gosh, ya just have to love his concern for my plight.) “No way in Hell are you to remove the heavy plastic covers from my furniture. I’m tired of having to steam clean my furniture every time you stay here. “
Me: “Fine. I won’t remove them…” But after this conversation I fully intend to lift them. Mutter mutter.
South: “And finally, NO WAY IN HELL are you to talk about COPS or cops on my site unless you also use the word arrested AND a porners name with it.”
Me: Well there goes my plan to post a new picture every day from my brand new Calendar Cops ..ummm…calendar. Your loss, South. Mr. November is HOTT!! South always goes out of his way to make me feel soooo welcome.
My car trip to Alanna was pretty uneventful, except when I stopped at one gas station and couldn’t get anything to come out of the hose. I pumped and I pumped, but got nothing. I even tried talking dirty to it, telling it how much I wanted it, and how hot I was for it, but nothing. I was pretty shaken up. I’ve never, ever had that problem with a hose before. When I informed the store manager, he mentioned something about a gas shortage. I’m like, “Why would there be a shortage of gas? This is America, land of the free, home of mucho wasteful consumption.” The dude was clueless. <right here is where I would put my head shaking/eye rolling emoticon IF I was allowed to use them> He then told me that apparently there had been some sort of hurricane (or two) down here? <shrugging emoticon> Personally, I think he made the whole thing up. I did miss bringing my dog with me this time. There was no one to howl Flo and Mary’s backup parts when I listened to my Diana Ross and the Supremes CD along the way.
I arrived at “The Hovel that Porn Built” just in time to see the mailman crossing the front lawn. I informed him that I would be happy to take South’s mail for him. He said, “Um, Mr. South said I’m not supposed to give his mail to anyone, especially a fat chick wearing a mumu and driving a Hoveround.” <fuck you emoticon> Then the mailman eyed my beloved electric scooter and said, “Are you disabled?” I said, “Hell, no. I’m just lazy. Now get out of my way or you’ll have Hoveround tracks across your sac. And I don’t mean the one you’re carrying that mail in either.”
Speaking of sacs and smooth segues, here’s an email Cal sent me last night: “Goddess, my girlfriend hates sucking cock. How can I change her attitude?” Hmm, being an avid cocksucker, I have two ideas for ya, Cal. First of all, it’s in the presentation. You want to make your cock eye appealing, as well as nose appealing. Make sure he’s clean and add a food fragrance to him like apple cinnamon, chocolate, maple brown sugar or vanilla. If your girl friend is the Martha Stewart type, tuck a sprig of fresh parsley between him and your boys. She’ll appreciate the effort, and it makes a great breath freshener when she’s finished.
Secondly, I think you should tell the chick she is entitled to a small parting gift with each blowjob she gives, because we love to get presents! Keep two shelves of gifts in your room full of chick things, like scented candles, fruity perfumes or bubble bath. If she swallows, she gets to pick from the top shelf where you’ll keep the higher priced gifts. If she doesn’t swallow, bottom shelf, lower priced gifts. And if she spits it out or makes that grossed out face, she has to buy you a gift.
This time around I decided to write approximately the same amount that South normally would because my posts look huge on his site. So I counted the words in his post from the 3rd, and he used 498 words. [350 of which were copied and pasted from DB’s email.] At this point, I’ve used about 1200 words, so this might be a good time for me to drive away from the computer and unpack.
I shall leave you with one of my favorite moments from COPS (Screw South and his rules. I’m a rebel….you can tell by the Hoveround!!) :
A cop nabs a dude driving a stolen car after a high-speed chase. He has him cuffed in the back of the cruiser.
Cop: “Is that car stolen? There are no keys in theignition.”
Driver: “They fell on the floor during the chase.”
Cop: “Explain this to me, if they fell on the floor, why is the car still running?” ZING!
Oh! One more thing before I close for the day. South mentioned that a lot of his readers have parole officers. Well, as you probably haven’t been able to figure out, I have a thing for hott cops. So if you think I’ll think your parole officer is hot, send me his pic. If I get enough pics, I can convince South to buy the url www.ismyparoleofficerhotornot.com Send ‘em to: [email protected]
Goddess
www.theworldofgoddess.com
“Changing the world, one trailer court at a time.”
