Um, so I’m in a bad place (temporarily) and the post you are about to read is a rant and a half, filled with profanity.

You have been warned.

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Trying really hard to see the silver lining, brighter side, etc, but just feeling super beat up by everything right now. I do all I am asked to, required to and more and nothing seems to fucking matter. I have to fight for everything, just to survive. I’m fucking tired of the struggling so hard! I’m exhausted physically and emotionally. I conserve and ration and plan and for what?! One step forward, two steps back and back and fuck you!

After weeks of back and forth and getting nowhere I finally figured out why two months of unemployment payments have not been coming my way: the state unemployment service (EDD) never updated my address in their system for debit cards when they updated it with my new claim. Way to fucking go! So while there is money somewhere for me, just sitting there all lonely like, I can’t actually touch it! Brilliant! I cut up my old edd debit card when my old claim ended. When I called to get a replacement I was told that they can’t issue me a new one until EDD updates my address in their system. Which would be at least another week anyway and my rent is due on the first.

So, what’s this broke fatty to do? I have to PAY $15 to get SOME of the money Western Union wired to me so I can pay my rent on time. I was in a real pinch and was considering putting my rent on my credit card (last month my amazing roommate paid my rent + utilities) so at least I can get some of it. But that’s not the point, right?! The point is that this government agency drops the ball and I have to pay for it. What the fuck else is new?!?! Poor folks always getting the fucking shaft from the government. Write a book about it already! LOL!

It sucks and it’s bullshit and it just gets slapped up on this massive pile of bullshit that I’ve been struggling with lately. I feel so fucking vulnerable because I’ve done all the things and have to just fucking wait for shit to happen now. Really?!? More waiting?!? Can things just start to happen for me now? Please?! I haven’t heard back about my latest job interview yet, but should this week. But please, if you know someone who is out of work, don’t fucking ask them about it all of the fucking time!!! It is just another brick in the face that is every fucking rejection, every damned day! Stop it! We know you care, caring is cool, but it hurts after awhile, the endless asking, “Have you tried XYZ?” “Have you heard back about XYZ?” “You should really look into XYZ.” Please just stop and give somebody a consensual hug!

I don’t get angry often, but I have to right now. If I don’t I’ll fall into a puddle and may never return at this point. I’ve been hiding out in my room, crying a lot and mostly just trying to process, be patient and heal. It’s fucking hard! I’ve been avoiding social scenarios because I’m not sure I won’t just cry the whole fucking time. I’ve had the luxury of a personal puggyman security detail since Saturday. My ex is moving into a new place and asked that I take the puggo until shit is settled. Which I don’t entirely mind, he did also bring me tacos de oro today, but I hate the open endedness of it at the moment. I’m sure he does, too, though.

The truth is, things are shitty right now for a lot of folks. I know it’s not just me. Most of my friends are going through some tough and/or horrible stuff at the moment. It sucks. I’m trying to be a good friend while also trying to take care of me but I feel like I’m failing on all fronts. I’m so insecure this week it’s fucking painful. Strangely, I’ve taken to liking being alone the last two days. I am fearful of others in small ways. Last night I was home alone with the two grumpy men (mine and my roommate’s dogs) and I was jumpy as fuck! Every little noise, every everything and I was a paranoid mess! I was literally shaking like a leaf when one dog started barking, because he was by the front door. I was paralyzed with fear. Then angry at myself for getting so worked up over nothing. *Sigh*

I have moments where I’m sitting or laying and wanting to get up to do something (or needing to pee) and it takes everything in me to get the power to actually do it. Like, I’m stuck or something. I hate it! This isn’t me, dude, this sucks! The people I want to be with most are or will be out of town this week. The few locals left are dealing with their own shit and I already feel like a burden just talking to them lately. I know I’m usually able to just get on with life and let go of the pain and hardships, but today is not that day. Ha!

Thanks for reading my rant. Tomorrow I’ll post pics of my NoLose 2013 Talent Show performance. Yay!

Today’s post is a review of a personal massager/sex toy. If you know me or would rather not know about my preferences or thoughts on this topic, please come back tomorrow for more of my usual fat talk and thoughts. Thanks! 😉

The following review has in no way shape or form been sponsored by anyone, nor have I been compensated in anyway. This is my own honest review of a personal purchase. 

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Oh dear readers! You always know what I need. Often it’s love and support, advice or solidarity, but when it came down to sexy stuff? You did real GOOD!!! I’d heard from many of you publicly and privately (you can always hit me up at notblueatall@notblueatall.com) that the Hitachi Magic Wand is nothing short of amazeballs. But you also frightened me with tales of it’s strength and intensity “so powerful it can give you an orgasm through a snowsuit….from across the street!” Yikes! But I’m here to share my thoughts on this hot topic! Ha-ha!

So, okay, y’all know I’m broke as fuck, but I did this user study thing at eBay and got a $50 visa gift card. I thought it was the perfect time to give the Hitachi Magic Wand a shot! And so…I did! I ordered it from Amazon and found one with two attachments for a great price. When it arrived I was a bit nervous about trying it. At first I just plugged it in and held it in my hand and then thought, “Hell no!” It was big and powerful and noisy! I put it away and didn’t touch it for a week.

Then I ran out of batteries for my go-to toy and thought, “Fuck it! Let’s do this thang!” and gave the Hitachi a go. WOW! It was too powerful for me that first time. It made me cum so fast I barely noticed. Which, let’s face it, kind of sucked. I just didn’t know what to make of it. Again, I left it alone for awhile. A few days later I thought to myself, “This is supposed to be the end all be all and I need to figure this shit out!” So I put on my favorite porn (“Libidinous Games” if you’re curious…it’s pretty tame and hilariously dubbed, but feel free to share your faves too) and took my time.

Holy Shitballs, Batman! I came so hard I thought I’d have a heart attack or pass out or something! This thing has two settings: “Low” (we’ll call it the clit pounder) and “High” (aka: are you insane?!?!). I can only handle the “Low” setting thus far. I’ve toyed with the “High” but only for like a second because I’d actually like to have a pussy left intact when I’m done masturbating! Ha-ha!

I have used the attachments and I have to say that they aren’t really that great. They make the whole thing noisier (no thank you) and are a pain to remove. I personally enjoyed the curved g-spot one a lot, but the straight one was of no interest to me (tried it, meh). What works best for me is using the curved attachment thingy to, um, penetrate myself vigorously (Ha-ha) and then remove it and focus on clit stimulation. Again, removal is no fun. I suppose you could leave it on but it will muffle the vibrations while simultaneously making the thing super loud. I don’t get it. I know there are other attachments, but until I have a disposable income (what is that again? Ha-ha!) I won’t have a chance to try ’em (let me know what you think of ones you’ve tried in comments, please).

The bottom line for me is that this thing is awesome! It plugs in so no more batteries!!! This has to be the best part. No waning battery life, no expense or trips to the store. It keeps on truckin’! I have sort of gotten used to the intensity and do try to take my time with it so as not to hurt myself or whatever. AH! The long handle is fantastic, too! That’s a great thing for a short armed, big bellied fatty like me! Long cord, long handle, never ending vibes: happy ‘bating! Ha-ha!

I was always too scared to spend the money on this sexy legend, but I can honestly say that I wouldn’t hesitate now. And I know many people who use it as a genuine massager for those hard to get knots. Especially in your neck/back/shoulders. All in all this is a great toy and a great buy. Do you have one of these babies? Tell me what you think, what works for you, tips, tricks, etc! 🙂

This TMI Tuesday post is about life skills! This one is totally safe for work as there is no images or even explicit descriptions…but I may swear. If this doesn’t interest you, do come back tomorrow for your regularly scheduled random fatty talk right here on my blog-a-ma-thing. Thanks! <3

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Sometimes things from your childhood hit you from out of nowhere in adulthood. I don’t really like when this happens, but what can ya do? I do find that once I have addressed or acknowledged it that it can help me process/self-work and move on. Yes, our childhoods shape us in ways we can’t truly know the depth of, but I also think that acknowledging this can help us move ahead and develop better futures for ourselves. I can only speak of my own experiences, of course. It amazes me how people we know, even if they grew up similarly, how very different their experiences can be from my own.

I was having lunch with two good friends the other day when we started to talk about housekeeping. Some of us are neat freaks, others are tidy with a side of clutter and then there is me: clueless! Seriously! Talking to these ladies made me realize, though I’d had an inkling for awhile, that I grew up with few actual normal life skills. Specifically when it comes to cleaning one’s home. No one showed me or taught me how to do such things growing up and I have suffered from this ignorance.

You see, I grew up in a very messy house. Well, that’s not quite it. Hmm…I grew up in a disgusting and filthy home. We lived in the same duplex for ten years. We moved there a few months before my fourth birthday…or was it my fifth? Anyway, my dad worked retail and thus his hours were always in flux. My mom stayed home in bed, literally. She pretty much just sat in bed and read books all day. She would occasionally bake and almost always burn whatever it was she was baking. I see now that she was most likely suffering from severe depression if not undiagnosed bi-polar. But she wouldn’t clean the house or do dishes and only ever did laundry when it was an absolute necessity. Though the first couple of years we lived there we didn’t have a dryer and I do remember “helping” her hang the laundry on a line in our miniscule backyard.

It is difficult to describe the state of our home. Basically, there was a pathway to walk from room to room, but outside of that there was clothing, trash-mostly paper, random things like toys or shoes and all sorts of other nonsense. It’s still not quite what I remember, but you get the gist I hope. My room was a disaster, always. Laundry never went into drawers or closets and I don’t recall where clean stuff even went…just that I would often grab from whatever was on the top layer of the mass pile that was my room, basically. It is with some lingering shame that I admit to having to wear socks and even underwear more than once or twice in a row. I know that I was little and didn’t know any better and my parents weren’t exactly aware of it, but I learned very young to stop asking for things, so I probably just didn’t want a fuss. Boy how this way of thinking still fucks with me to this very day. I work on it constantly, but I have a very hard time asking for anything, especially help.

I think my dad cooked dinner more often than not, unless he was working late. Each parent, I think, did only the dishes required for that particular meal and it’s consumption. Our sink was always full of dirty dishes and our counters, well, I don’t know that I ever saw our counters as they, too were full and covered always. The few times we did a big cleaning bonanza it was always because of something bad. The landlord was coming over or a threat of eviction or whatever. Never a good reason, ever ! Because of this I struggle with bouts of high anxiety anytime my husband wants to spring clean or move furniture around…which is often. It is only recently that I figured out why that is. It helps to know, but the anxiety is still there and quite heavy.

Growing up I was never allowed to have friends over and honestly wouldn’t want to eventually as I soon saw how different everyone else’s houses were. My best friend from K-6th grade, Riana, never even saw the inside of my home all of those years. I spent nearly every day at her house a few blocks away. I would never say why, just that my mom didn’t want anyone over or a million other excuses. I see how sad that is now, how much shame I’ve carried with me all of these years. Ugh! When we did do a massive cleaning one time, due to an eviction threat no doubt, I did have my friend Summer over to spend the night once. This was shortly before we moved out of that house and I’d just gotten a kitten…well, found a kitten, long story. But I remember the house being pretty clean, though not to my current standards.

When we moved to a new house that my dad was trying to actually buy, we kept the place pretty nice. We had smaller stashes of clutter, but the floors were open and clean because the house was also being shown to possible buyers. That was a nightmare, actually. I finally had my own room though and I kept it pretty damned tidy. The only clutter was in my closet and we got rid of most of what would have been clutter during the move. I had friends over all of the time and I loved that. I actually felt a sense of pride in my room and home. It was a new feeling, but a good one! And I snuck boys in my room…but don’t tell my dad! Ha-ha!!!

So, you can imagine that when I moved out with my abusive boyfriend later that these life skills, such as cleaning/cooking/laundry, were basically non-existent. I was depressed most of the time and though working full time at 16, everything else sort of fell to the wayside. I did my own laundry…but not much else. That time of my life was sort of a limbo anyway. Living in one room and all, it wasn’t like there was much to clean anyhow. Work was a refuge from the abuse and depression and I spent a good chunk of my paycheck on clothes and accessories there anyway.

When my husband and I moved in together, well, I didn’t tell him about how I grew up. Or it never came up? I don’t really know. I know that we had next to nothing and I went to what is now Big Lots every week to buy more necessities. I learned to do dishes, though we still do them differently from one another. I still put all of my laundry, yes mixed, into a cold wash and a hot dryer. I don’t iron. I dusted for the first time in my life about two months ago when I discovered a Swiffer Duster unopened in our closet. It was like magic! We do vacuum at least once a week if not more due to the Puggyman and his double coat of fur love.

We’re neither neat-nicks nor slobs. I’m the queen of clutter, but it’s manageable. Right now my biggest issue is clothes as one of my dresser drawers in broken and thus a pile has been placed beside it. I am working on folding laundry rather than shoving it. It’s still a struggle. My childhood still haunts me when I least expect it. I know now that my parents should never have had children…in my opinion! They got married because of me and well, they should have sought the unpopular solution at the time. My dad worked and worked and had neither the time nor the energy for much more. Though his weekend-ish days off were fab as he would take us to parks. I don’t have a terrible childhood, just a different one than most. While my school chums would worry about their mom “killing them” for scuffed shoes or stained shirts, I never felt such pressures. For the most part my parents let me do as I want in some ways. I sought a life outside of my home out of necessity. I hardly regret that. But it is a different thing entirely when one was never shown or taught how to clean a bathroom or carpet.

These simple life skills we all take for granted I have struggled with my entire life to catch up in some way. It always seemed an unimportant thing when I’d rather be at a concert or kissing boys. I am far from a domestic goddess. I enjoy cooking and baking now, but I fought that for years, too. I almost wore my ignorance in these things as a badge of honor for awhile. No longer! With every new skill I toss out such old ways of thinking and press onward and hopefully upward and beyond the shame and guilt of old. It may be worth mentioning that my little brother and sister, now in their twenties, didn’t grow up quite the same way as I did. They had chores to tend to and were made to do homework. I was asked if I did my homework and my only chore was taking out the garbage. Though I suffered through catechism while they did not. It was just very different, though we lived together. I don’t know that I will ever know why.

But I know that I can’t be the only one. And it is because of this that I bare my soul here for you to read. Thank you.

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For additional content, links, articles, stuff, random OOTDs and more, please “Like” the blog’s Facebook Page. Thanks!

I am taking submissions from anyone who wants to participate in the fats in winter wear posts! Email your pics here: notblueatall@notblueatall.com, please include the name you’d like in the post, a blog or etsy shop you wanna plug and  your fatty philosophies. Have fun with it!

This TMI Tuesday post is a review of a Sex Toy! If this doesn’t interest you, you’d rather not know about my sex life or toy preference, or you’re at work and don’t wanna get in trouble, do come back tomorrow for your regularly scheduled random fatty talk right here on my blog-a-ma-thing. Thanks! <3

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Every time I go to Good Vibrations in San Francisco, I try to buy something. To support them, to support my sexual well being and well, it’s an awesome place to shop. I find it hard not to look around and grab a little something before I leave. There are a bunch of reasons to go to and support Good Vibrations, but you can find those at the linky there. Today I wanted to talk about the latest toy I purchased.

Meet “C-Spot”: The C-Spot has a very special job indeed — its main function is as a clit stimulator, and wow, is it good at its job! Long and thin, the head is angled for the perfect fit on your clit. Slim enough to fit in between bodies during partnered sex, this little vibe also provides an extended reach for folks with disabilities. Not limited to external fun, this vibe also makes a great internal G-spot stimulator. Oh, and it’s waterproof too!

Some of you are bummed, but you’re not alone. I’m bummed, too. I love Tank Top Tuesday. But I received no submissions and I am in far from photographic condition at the moment.

Today’s TMI Tuesday topic is Family Shit *TRIGGER WARNING for family politics and lap band discussion*. Specifically, my family shit and recent developments. Nothing not safe for work that I can think of. Please share your thoughts and experiences in comments; as always this is where the action happens! Ha-ha! If you know me, are a member of my family or would simply rather not know about my family issues, I ask that you please come back on another day. Thank you so much! =0)

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Some back story: My dad and his wife are fat. This is his second wife. I believe my dad has high blood pressure, cholesterol, not sure what else, but also a very big belly. He’s a school bus driver and believe me the perfect career for him. He loves kids and is a beyond safe driver. His wife has diabetes type 2 and hepatitis, but I’m not sure which type. I have very little contact with them presently due to the endless lies and manipulations I get from his wife and the fact that he goes along with anything and everything she says and does no matter how ridiculous. At one point my entire family did not talk to me for three years and was left out of my sister’s wedding because of her lies. Her story kept changing, too. I kept asking why and I kept getting a new story. I don’t believe that I have ever done anything at all to offend this woman. In fact I let her legally adopt me as an adult as a gesture to her and my dad. Ugh!

So last week I get a bit of a frantic instant message from my sister asking that I talk to our parents because they are being pressured by Kaiser to get the Lap Band in order for them to lose weight. *HeadDesk* I knew they had been considering it and that Kaiser was all gung-ho about it, but hadn’t heard anything in awhile. Also I am not talking to them because of the above bullshit. So I write them an email for my sister and hopefully to give them some informational resources so that they can make an informed decision rather than just doing what they’re being told to do by Kaiser.

My dad did not respond, as per usual, his wife did:

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I am taking submissions from anyone who wants to exercise their right to Bare Arms for future Tank Top Tuesday posts! Email your pics here: notblueatall@notblueatall.com, please include the name you’d like in the post, a blog or etsy shop you wanna plug, your thoughts on bare arms or other fatty philosophies. It does not have to be in a tank top, so long as your arms are bare. Have fun with it!