Archive | October, 2010

Wishing You All…

31 Oct

…a super sexy Halloween.  I wish I had some wonderful tale of sex and debauchery for you tonight, but I don’t.  This bad girl is hanging up her bitch boots tonight and going to her grandpa’s.  We are going to order some pizzas, have a few beers, and reminisce about times past.  Nothing is more important than family, and I love my grandpa more than any man who may ever walk into my life.  OK…so maybe won’t hang up the bitch boots…but here is to pizza, beer, great stories, fantastic memories, and cute little kids in their cute little costumes.


Much love, Esme


I Love The Way You Lie

29 Oct


I love this song.  With every ounce of my being.  It is the most listened to song on my Ipod, its song number one on the CD in my SUV.  On the right day, it can make me cry. Or it can make me feel grateful I got out of a bad situation without the horrific ending.

I have heard many mixed reviews on ‘I Love The Way You Lie’ by other victims of domestic violence.  Most I have talked to despise this song.  I have heard some say they feel like this song glorifies, or romanticizes DV.  I have to say…I don’t hear that in this song AT ALL.  What I hear is the mixed emotions both sides feel during a fucked-up relationship, about the cycle of violence.

This song resonates with me because I could have very easily been a tragic ending.  It resonates even more because I have seen the tragic ending.  Many times, thanks to my line of work.  And thanks to my line of work, I felt like the worlds biggest hypocrite.

So often, shift after shift, I would be called to the same residences.  Time and time again.  Bloodied noses.  Black eyes.  Broken arms.  Women holding their children in their arms, their eyes darting around the room, not meeting my gaze.  I’m fine, I fell, he didn’t mean it, it only happens when he drinks, he loves me, he said it won’t happen again.  I would plead with them to come to the hospital, to press charges, to take the paperwork I was trying to hand them.  It never failed, the answer was always the same-NO.  I tried giving the ‘you could die’ speech, it never worked.  These women would never come with me, would never get help.  And far too often, I eventually answered calls where they were unconscious-or dead.

And then what would happen?  I would go home, shit would happen, and I wouldn’t use the resources I was begging my patients to use.  Why?  I DON’T KNOW.  I can’t explain it.  I was a hypocrite.  I would go to work and try to save the world, and I couldn’t even save myself.

I often wondered if the guys at work ever knew anything.  And I wondered why I never told.  I think, when they saw my ex and I together, they knew something wasn’t right, but I don’t think they suspected abuse.  And why would they?  Why would you ever expect someone in my position of being abused?  I had so many resources at my disposal.  Bad-ass firemen, who I am sure would have been more than willing to show some solidarity.  Cops with guns who had some major anger-management problems.  Emergency room doctors I was on a first name basis with.  Other hospital personnel.  But I didn’t.  I couldn’t, until I was ready to.

So yes, I am a big fan of this song.  I became a bigger fan of Megan Fox (because not only is she a bad girl personified) when I found out she donated every penny she made from this video to a domestic violence shelter.  This song, and video, should serve as a reminder that far too often domestic violence turns deadly.  And while some people view violence as a ‘normal’ part of a relationship-it isn’t.  Not in any WAY, SHAPE, OR FORM.  It isn’t sexy, it isn’t romantic, and it isn’t love.  Breaking a cycle of violence is hard, but necessary.  If you can’t do it yourself, please get help.

Much love, Esme

Just gonna stand there
And watch me burn
But that’s alright
Because I like
The way it hurts
Just gonna stand there
And hear me cry
But that’s alright
Because I love
The way you lie
I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie

I can’t tell you what it really is
I can only tell you what it feels like
And right now there’s a steel knife
In my windpipe
I can’t breathe
But I still fight
While I can fight
As long as the wrong feels right
It’s like I’m in flight
High of a love
Drunk from the hate
It’s like I’m huffing paint
And I love it the more that I suffer
I suffocate
And right before im about to drown
She resuscitates me
She fucking hates me
And I love it
Where you going
I’m leaving you
No you ain’t
Come back
We’re running right back
Here we go again
It’s so insane
Cause when it’s going good
It’s going great
I’m Superman
With the wind in his bag
She’s Lois Lane
But when it’s bad
It’s awful
I feel so ashamed
I snap
Who’s that dude
I don’t even know his name
I laid hands on her
I’ll never stoop so low again
I guess I don’t know my own strength

Just gonna stand there
And watch me burn
But that’s alright
Because I like
The way it hurts
Just gonna stand there
And hear me cry
But that’s alright
Because I love
The way you lie
I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie

You ever love somebody so much
You can barely breathe
When you’re with them
You meet
And neither one of you
Even know what hit ’em
Got that warm fuzzy feeling
Yeah them chills
Used to get ’em
Now you’re getting fucking sick
Of looking at ’em
You swore you’ve never hit ’em
Never do nothing to hurt ’em
Now you’re in each other’s face
Spewing venom
And these words
When you spit ’em
You push
Pull each other’s hair
Scratch, claw, bit ’em
Throw ’em down
Pin ’em
So lost in the moments
When you’re in ’em
It’s the rage that took over
It controls you both
So they say it’s best
To go your separate ways
Guess that they don’t know ya
Cause today
That was yesterday
Yesterday is over
It’s a different day
Sound like broken records
Playin’ over
But you promised her
Next time you’ll show restraint
You don’t get another chance
Life is no Nintendo game
But you lied again
Now you get to watch her leave
Out the window
Guess that’s why they call it window pane

Just gonna stand there
And watch me burn
But that’s alright
Because I like
The way it hurts
Just gonna stand there
And hear me cry
But that’s alright
Because I love
The way you lie
I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie

Now I know we said things
Did things
That we didn’t mean
And we fall back
Into the same patterns
Same routine
But your temper’s just as bad
As mine is
You’re the same as me
But when it comes to love
You’re just as blinded
Baby please come back
It wasn’t you
Baby it was me
Maybe our relationship
Isn’t as crazy as it seems
Maybe that’s what happens
When a tornado meets a volcano
All I know is
I love you too much
To walk away though
Come inside
Pick up your bags off the sidewalk
Don’t you hear sincerity
In my voice when I talk
Told you this is my fault
Look me in the eyeball
Next time I’m pissed
I’ll aim my fist
At the dry wall
Next time
There will be no next time
I apologize
Even though I know it’s lies
I’m tired of the games
I just want her back
I know I’m a liar
If she ever tries to fucking leave again
I’mma tie her to the bed
And set the house on fire

Just gonna stand there
And watch me burn
But that’s alright
Because I like
The way it hurts
Just gonna stand there
And hear me cry
But that’s alright
Because I love
The way you lie
I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie

Wicked Wednesday: BUSTED!

27 Oct

It’s that time of week again skanks…it’s Wicked Wednesday!

I love Wicked Wednesday…but I have to admit I was scratching my head when it came to this weeks assignment.  Name a time when you almost got away with it.  As far as I know, I have never been caught.  I am a fucking ninja when it comes to getting my rocks off.  But, it does remind me of a time when people thought they caught me…

I have blogged about ambulance boy before.  Even here on a Wicked Wednesday.  Fond memories, what can I say.  Plus, it’s a great fucking story.  Anyways, not too long after that incredible night, we found ourselves working together again.  AB was a medic student, and he had his final hands-on exam the following week.  He approached me and asked for help.  I said sure, and we headed out to the apparatus bay.

I wish I could say we went out there and ripped each others clothes off.  That we shared a frenzied fuck session that left us both sweaty and breathless.  But no.  He actually needed to study.  Shit.  I dragged a naked Rescue Randy over to the ambulance and we got to work.  (Rescue Randy is a weighted dummy we use in the fire service for training purposes, you dirty-minded sluts…focus).  We were out there for quite some time.  I ran AB through his paces.  When he didn’t to something right, he did it again, and again, and again.  At one point, I had taken off my sweatshirt, and he did, too.  I had him simulating medical and trauma calls.  I had him doing CPR so many times he was hot and sweaty.  I wish back then I would have been bad enough to tell him to practice on me instead…

Finally I called an end to the training.  It had been three long, sweaty hours, and AB had to start dinner…it was his turn to cook.  I dragged Rescue Randy over to his resting place.  AB and I headed back into the day room, tugging our sweatshirts back on as we did so.

‘OH MY GOD!!  We KNEW it!  You guys were fucking out there!!  Holy shit!!!  The Lou asked us where you were, and none of us were brave enough to check, and we fucking KNEW it!!!’  This was what we were greeted with when we walked back into the room.

AB stopped in his tracks.  He didn’t confirm, nor did he deny.  Typical fucking boy.  He just stood there with a shit-eating grin on his face.  I put my palms in his back, shoved him forward, and he walked to the kitchen.

‘We weren’t having sex, you fuck-tards’, I said.  ‘I was helping him study for his practical exam.  If you bothered walking out there, you would have known this.’

My crew responded with sures, yeahs, and whatevers.

I rolled my eyes and said ‘And you think AB there could last 3 hours?  Somehow I truly fucking doubt that.  We would have been back in here after 5 minutes if that were the case.’

From the kitchen: FUCK YOU, ESME!

Game, set, match.

Much love, Esme


25 Oct

This just wouldn’t be my blog if I didn’t talk about the female ‘pleasure zone’.

I was watching an episode of Law & Order SVU last week, because I love the show…don’t judge me…Olivia fucking ROCKS and Eliot is someone I wouldn’t mind spending some time under…or over.  Anyways, this phrase was used: It’s not all bad news…I found blood and semen in her hootchi-hoo.

I sat straight up from my lounge position on my parents couch where I was visiting.  WHAT?? I yelled.  What the fuck did she just call a snatch?!?

Needless to say, the word ‘snatch’ did not go over to well with my mother.  I offended her somewhat delicate sensibilities, as I think the word fuck associated with the word snatch…who knows and fucking cares.  Hootchie-hoo? Who in the hell came up with that name?  I was laughing so hard I had fat tears rolling down my cheeks, my hands clutching my sides.  When I watched The Soup with Joel McHale a couple of days later…no less funny.  In fact, I think it was even better.  I still have this vision of a bunch of Beverly Hills socialites, with their accessory dogs and beach-blonde hair whispering about how they trim the hair on their ‘hootchie-hoos’ because they are too proper for words that people like…well…me use.

Which got me thinking, what words do I use in reference to my va-jay-jay?  Really, I have such a colorful language that no words are off limits.  Vagina, crotch, snatch, vadge, twat, cunt, pussy-snatch being my favorite.  I have even called my fair share of women-and men-twats, cunts, and pussys.  Don’t act all surprised…they fucking deserved it…skanks…

Some of the slag terms used for the female anatomy (better??) are fucking hilarious. My favorite is from Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle.  Neil Patrick Harris says ‘I want burgers…fur burgers’.  LOOOOOOOOVE  IT!  Also, being in a firehouse has greatly broadened my vocabulary when it comes to completely vulgar-but funny-terminology.  Cum dumpster, fuzz box, sperm sucker, great divide, axe wound.

So I wonder!  Because my mind is always working, what have you heard snatch referred to as?  Share, dear readers…as I am a very curious Esme…

Much love, Esme

Why Must People Change?

24 Oct

So I think that whatever I may had going on with the Doctor may be fizzing out.  Lately he has become way to fucking needy!!

One of the things that attracted me to the Doctor in the first place was that he was his own person.  He had his own life, one that didn’t revolve around me.  He didn’t feel the need to talk to me every day.  He didn’t feel the need to e-mail or text me every day.  He did it when the need arose, just like I did.  A couple of times a week, the most.  And I loved it.  Especially after being married to some fuck-stick that kept tabs on me 24-hours a day.

The last two weeks have NOT been a walk in the park when it comes to this guy.  Of course, I did not tell him I was going to visit Nice Guy.  There is no need to spill that little secret, after all, I have no committment with either one of these guys.  Doctor did call me once, and I texted him and said I was on a girlfriends weekend.  I would call him when I was done with it.  Oh.  My.  God.  You think I would have told him I was in Vegas getting fucking married with the text messages I received afterwards.

Why don’t you love me anymore.  Why don’t we talk like we used to.  Why are you shutting me out.  How come you won’t talk to me anymore.  What’s going on?

Fucking seriously??  Since when did we become an item, for one, and when did he become so damn needy??

This is an instant turn-off for me.  I am even having a problem broaching this with him.  I don’t need this shit.  He knows my past, he knows what happened with the ex, and he knows I need my space.  So what the fuck has changed?

He has instant messaged me numerous times, and I have responded once.  I was pretty distant, which I am not uber-proud of, but it is how I deal.  He has tried calling a few times, and I let it go to voicemail.  The messages give me slightest of chills…’How many women do I love?  One.  And all I want to do is talk to the woman I love’.  Uuuummmmmmm….

Insecure men equal my NUMBER ONE biggest turn off.  So I think this, whatever it may have been, is fucking DONE.

Much love, Esme

Just You & Your Hand Tonight…

23 Oct

…to quote one of my favorite P!nk songs…

So this bitch met up with one of her oldest friends last night (talking 17 years here) at an adorable little Irish bar the next town over.  This was not a dick-finding mission…we were not decked out, although she did rock some glitter eye-liner I am fucking jealous of!  This was two girlfriends getting together to discuss men, their appendages, us laughing, and maybe talking work and how we would change the world.  One of those kind of nights.  We all have them.  No interest in picking up men, in getting laid, or anything of the like.

A couple of hours and a few glasses of zinfindel into our evening, two extremely drunk fucknuts stumble over to our table.  Not even attractive fucknuts…it was an insult from the word go. One tossed his elbows onto the table, and proceeded to knock over, and break, my half-full glass of wine.  Yes, I am a fucking optimist.  That shit was half-full.  I was PISSED.

My girlfriend and I shot these fuck-tards some dirty looks.  One of them tried to apologize, then made some kind of lame-ass joke to cover his embarrassment.  Just walk away, I said.  Just…GO.  I dismissed them with a flick of my wrist and a nod of my head.

The stupid dumb fuck (I will never run out of adjectives for this guy) kept coming around the rest of the night.  The last time, he sided up to my girlfriend and grabbed her fucking crotch. She told him, very nicely I thought, to leave her the fuck alone.  What he deserved was a punch to the damn nose.

What the fuck is wrong with men these days??  In what world is it OK to walk up to some girl and grab snatch?  Do they really think it is a turn-on?  Or, do they do it hoping one day we will return the favor…walk up to some guy in a bar and press our hand against their little bulges?  Answers, please…

Much love, Esme

A Little Bit More Serious

22 Oct

Some of my loyal readers may be picking up on the fact that I haven’t had as many ‘first dates’ lately.  I used to go out on, damn, like 1-3 of them a week.  The last year has been a fucking whirlwind health wise, and right at this point in time, I feel like writing about it.  So I am going to.  Read on if you want to.  It’s not about dating, sex, fucking, etc.  It’s my real-life. Everything else I have been doing has revolved around what I am going to write about below…

For those who don’t know, and I think most do, I am a firefighter/paramedic.  About a year ago, give or take a few months since I am not trying to establish a timeline for some stalker/fucker out there, I was injured in the line of duty.  It has been a long road to recovery, one that may never be finished.  It is still, as of yet, unclear if I will be able to return to firefighting.  I miss it.  I crave the adrenaline rush.  I miss the camaraderie.  I miss walking into the firehouse, yelling ‘guess who got laid last night!’ and getting high fives around the dinner table.  The good news-? for me is I can still be a paramedic.  Does this make much sense?  Not to me…So I can’t walk a roof, or carry someone down a ladder, but I can carry a fat-ass down the stairs?  Hmm…no, not much sense.  But I work with what I am given.  So I am dealing with that.

Then I was dealt with some other health issues…

Sometime ago I threw blood clots.  The works…bilateral pulmonary emboli, DVT, TIA.  Fucking lucky I am sitting here writing this shit…but I overcame and persevered, because it’s what I fucking DO.  WITH STYLE.  And not too long ago, I came down with meningitis, the viral variety.  It took me six weeks to overcome that shit.  Six.  Weeks.  That is six times longer then the average person.  That time period lead to more tests, more doctors appointments, more waiting and wondering.  And yesterday I received test results.

Rewind some…the blood clots I threw in the past…those were caused by something called


Yes, I wrote it big because apparently it is a pretty big fucking deal.  If you want to know a lot about it, you have to wikipedia it.  But basically I lack folate, b-12, and b-6.  And the combination of these three, and the lack of it, causes an abnormally large amount of homocysteine in the blood.  (All caused by a defective gene).  It damages the lining of arteries and veins, and causes blood clots.  Also an increase chance of heart attack, stoke, and other cardiovascular diseases.  Sounds so simple to treat, right?  Esme, take some fucking vitamins!  I do, bitches!!!  But it doesn’t give me the amount I need.  And taking too many of said vitamins will cause the same problems…heart attack, stroke, cardiovascular issues, and decreased kidney function.  So, the treatment has the same effect as the disease.

Fast forward, then rewind, to yesterday.  I was sitting in the doctor’s office and he came in reading my test results.  Hey Esme!  He said, Good news!  No auto-immune diseases!  But your C-Reactive Protein is high.  Like really high.  My what, I ask?  He repeated it.  I asked how to treat it.

He went on to explain that in my case, it is used as a marker.  It is often seen when there is an infection in the body.  However, I have no infection.  And the test was run a number of times, so it is not wrong.  He said that in my case (He said that about 30 times…I wanted to punch him in the balls and give him a case) it means I am at a greatly increased risk for a stroke or other cardiovascular events.  But he is worried about a stroke since I have already thrown clots.  How much more of a risk, I asked?  He shrugged his shoulders and said he can’t guess, but it is on top of the homocysteine risk.  Said if I have a headache, confusion, any kind of weirdness, I need to go to the ED right-the-fuck-away.  Ummm…that is like all-the-damn-time.  Fucking seriously????

He then went on to explain that losing weight and exercise will help to reduce some of the risk.  I told him I have recently lost 30 pounds, that I don’t feel like I need to lose anymore.  He said to exercise more.  Stay active.  Take my medicine.  See all my doctors.  So what, I said, I’m like living on borrowed time here?  Like one day I will be walking around with a friend of mine and-BAM-I’m going to have a fucking stroke?  Just like that? 2, 5, or 10 years from now?  Is it that fucking serious?

Esme, he said to me, we all live on borrowed time.  None of us know when we are going to die, and none of us know how we are going to die.  And there is nothing in your tests results that say when it is going to happen.  It may be 2 years from now in a car accident.  It may be 50 years from now with a heart attack.  Be thankful you know about this so you can help lower the risk.  Take the medicine.  Exercise regularly.  Live happy and stress-free (I snorted).  Go out and enjoy your life!

It was a gut-punch.  No one in my family is unhealthy.  A little crazy maybe, but not unhealthy.  But somehow, two people came together and made a defective-gene child. And only me…brothers are healthy.  AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  FFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!  OK, I feel better now.  And today, it’s not so bad.  I do exercise, thanks to the therapy needed for my injury, but this is going to jump-start a more kick-ass work-out.  I’m going to use this as a reason to help me live better and stronger.  And with more of a purpose.  Hopefully I won’t let so much of the small shit bother me.  OK, really, I can sit here and spout all of the crap I want about how this news will change my life, but only time will truly tell.  Because honestly, I am still reeling some.  But I would like to think that’s what I would do!  So to my fellow skanks out there…if I ever start to feel sorry for myself, please remind me I could be a fucking vegetable in a nursing home.  That will snap me right the fuck out of it!

ALRIGHT!  So dating…yes, there has been a drop in first dates.  I have been turning them down while I have been trying to figure some things out.  Didn’t need to add fucking ass-hats to the mix.  Now that the health crisis is solved, that is one thing down!  The job issue will work its self out, so I am not too worried about that.  It may be time to stop turning down said ass-hats…

Much love, Esme