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Everytime I touch someone's boobs, I'll put an icon on the map for the state they live in (unless there is already one there). Help me touch boobs from all 50 states!


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Last Updated: 10/29/2009

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Monday, November 02, 2009 

Current mood:  adventurous
Category: Blogging
Introspection is really a completely fucked up process.  You have to look inside of yourself and pass judgment upon your own actions and feelings.  Nothing like a little self-loathing to make your day complete.  This is why I avoid it.  Yes, I know it can be healthy.  Blah blah blah, but let’s face it.  Nothing about me is healthy so why should I start now? 

 There are several people who are telling me they want to try and do the MS Challenge Walk with me in September, 2010.  That both excites me and concerns me.   Mostly because I think about half of them have no clue what it truly entails.  On the other hand, I don’t want to discourage anyone either. Everyone has it in them to make it.  You just have to want it badly enough. If you’re thinking about it and have questions or want some details into what you really need to commit to, let me know. 


And now, I shall bore you with my introspective poetry. 


Haiku is a Japanese lyric verse form having three unrhymed lines of five, seven, and five syllables. 






Cock Haiku 

I like your large cock 
It is hard and very fat 
It’s like a soup can



 




 Hooker Haiku 

"Stick it in”, I said! 
“Move it around a little. 
Don’t forget my cash.”



 


I do much prefer limericks to haiku, though they are tougher to pen. A limerick is defined as a humorous, often risque, verse of five lines with the rhyme scheme a-a-b-b-a. 





Not to be confused with the group ABBA who brought you rhymes in a more socially acceptable format, such as: 

"If you change your mind 
I'm the first in line 
Honey I'm still free 
take a chance on me." 


I could go on, but I won't. Instead, I give you my Football Limerick!   


There once was a team from Wisconsin 
Whose quarterback had a big johnson 
 I can’t finish this limerick. The thought turns me on too much.  Let’s just say the next line had something to do with “punt”, and we all know what rhymes with that! 


Leave me your own little ditty if you’d like. It sure beats the shit out of introspection.
5:39 PM 
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Thursday, October 29, 2009 

Current mood:  awake
Category: Blogging
"A true friend gives freely, advises justly, assists readily, adventures boldly, takes all patiently, defends courageously, and continues a friend unchangeable."  --William Penn

To those of you who still come around these parts, even though my presence has been spotty, at best, I'm grateful for you.  Thank you.  I've often thought I'd drop this site completely, but then I would lose some of what makes me happy.  That is, having a little sounding board over here, where I can potentially reach more people.  Since my goal is world domination, this site becomes much more instrumental. 

But somewhere along the lines, I lost everything that made this place what it was for me.  Now I struggle with wondering if I want that back.  Sure, it's fun to interact, but make no mistake, it takes a lot of time and dedication. 

On the whole, I miss it.  I miss the days where comments took on a life of their own and each person interacted with not only me, but the others commenting.  It's how so many of us came to be as close as we are today. 

And then I go and do something like this and close off comments so that you can't interact, even if you wanted to. 

I know, I know, I'm such a bitch.  However, I will try to make you laugh all the same. 

  *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The Princess and the Giant Cock

She was applying her foundation when her little boy spoke up.  "What are you doing?" 

"I'm putting on my makeup, so that I look pretty."

He thought for a moment and then asked, "Why don't you put it on the inside of your nose?  That way, your boogers will see a beautiful girl," *dramatic pause*  "before they DIE!"

She laughed and giggled at the thought of boogers dying.  Is that what happens when you mash them in your tissue?  Are they really alive?  Are there organisms living in them that DO meet their death via tissue?

Doesn't matter, one must get to work.  She packed up her little bundle of joy and hauled him to day care, then trudged off to work. 

Upon her arrival at her office, she sat down at her desk.  A very uneasy feeling swept across her.  NO it did not "flood her pelvic region", thank you very much. 

It was unmistakable.  The zipper on her pants was down.  She reached to the side to pull it back up and found that the entire length of the zipper had popped open.  The little pully-dooma-flochy-thing-a-ma-jig had ripped off of one side and was a snarled, mangled mess. 

NOW WHAT?  She rummaged through her drawers - the ones to her desk, pigs -  and found the little metal doo-hickeys that generally hold ace bandages in place.  What the hell?  She attached them to the side of her pants to keep them in place while she decided what to do next. 

A little witch on a social networking site suggested binder clips.  She found some smallish ones and attached 5 of them to the side of her pants.  They did the job perfectly and almost looked like little black and silver buckles.  One may mistake it for a high-fashion belt if she positioned herself correctly. 

She sat back down and began working.  It was then that she heard the department chairman talking in the hallway.  He peeked in her office, mentioned something about getting a daily dose of optimism from her, chuckled in spite of himself and walked away. 

"Giant cock," she muttered under her breath, as he walked away and she continued on about her morning.  At some point, things were bound to get better. 

Little did she know that "some point" sometimes means "never".  And so, she changed her cell phone number, once again, back to the familiar 804 of long ago. 


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

4:32 PM 
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Wednesday, October 28, 2009 

Current mood:  contemplative
Category: Blogging
I'm going to do some writing.  I'm going to close comments.  I don't mind if you are reading.  Perhaps eventually you'll learn something, think of something, or feel less alone.  Maybe not.  Mostly, I just need to find the joy I used to have in writing again.  

Deal with it.  

XOXO





Once upon a time there was a little girl who knew exactly what she wanted.  

One day, she realized she'd have to adapt what she wanted to the reality that life gave her.  She had fallen into a very muddy hole, and was looking for a way out.  

Every time she'd gain some ground, her feet would slip out from underneath her.  She knew climbing out was not an option. 

She started screaming.  She is still screaming.  One day, perhaps she'll stop - but not today.  She's still trying to adapt to the muddy at the bottom hole.  
11:16 PM 
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Tuesday, October 27, 2009 

Current mood:  angsty
Category: Blogging
...as they stared at each other, that warm, familiar feeling flooded her pelvic region...

Who writes that?  Why not just say "her pussy was getting hot"?  

I'll tell you why not?  It's all of the politically correct bullshit.  

Did you know:  Josh's school will not have a Halloween party or anything mentioning Halloween?  Know why?  Pagan holiday. 

We got flyers in the mail for a PTA sponsored event at a local photographer to have your child photographed in their "FALL COSTUME".  Fall costume?  Really?  Should I dress my kid up like a fucking acorn?  Should he have colored leaves stuck all over him?  Because I don't think that would be appropriate since he's dressing as Hercules for HALLO-Fucking-WEEN.  

I'd like to go to the School Board President or the PTA president (or whoever chose the words for the flyer) and ram one of the accessories from my "fall costume" up her "flooded pelvic region."  How do you think she'd like that?  

It seems like this totally PC world is taking all of the fun out of being a kid.  Next thing you know, we won't be able to celebrate Christmas...what?  Oh, you mean "The Winter Holiday."  Got it.  If that's the case then I don't want to hear about any other Christian/Jewish/Greek/Pagan holidays what so ever. And certainly no African American ones.  And nothing that disparages Native Americans.  That means that for Thanksgiving, we should have "Pre-Winter Holiday Festival".  

I'm experiencing a slightly agitated mood.  Read: I'm feeling a little bitchy.  


Fuck PC.  iMacs are better anyway.  I don't give a shit who I offend.  

4:48 PM 
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Sunday, October 25, 2009 

Current mood:  amused
Category: Blogging
…and then, he said, "it's old and cold and full of mold."  Boy did we laugh at that one for a couple of hours.  

I was thinking about the time when you and I went to the adult toy store over in the West End.  Remember when I picked up that butt plug and said to you…

Hey!  Who are you?  Why are you eavesdropping on my private stories?  

I do have something to tell YOU.  Not the toy store story though.  I promised to keep that between me and the person who was there with me, who shall forever remain nameless.  

I was listening to my iPod last night and "I'm Yours" by Jason Mraz came on.  I was laying in bed listening and singing the words in my head.  This was a different version than I'm used to hearing, so I was totally surprised when he sang about listening to "the music of the moment, people sing with me".  You see, I used to think he was singing "listen to the music of the Mormon people, sing with me".  I always thought that was odd, but thought perhaps he was listening to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.  

Really, in my head it made perfect sense.  

The whole point of this story?  "I'm Yours" is NOT a really good song to masturbate to.  There's no frenzy, there's no energy.  Sure, it's a fun song, but the beat doesn't do much for you when you're rubbing one out.  

Please suggest a songs to go on my "Masturbation Playlist".  I need something new!  

XOXO
12:04 PM 
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Thursday, October 15, 2009 

Current mood:  accomplished
Category: Blogging

I know this isn’t in effect yet, however, let me state, for the record that:


No company has ever sent me a free vibrator for anything I’ve ever said about their products.  The only freebies I’ve received from any company regarding my love of vibrators and dildos has been FREE LUBE WITH PURCHASE or the FREE Vibrating Egg when you pay shipping.  Well that and multiple orgasms.  Those I didn’t have to pay for. 


My association with California Exotics is solely that I paid them $70 or so and they supplied me with the once top-of-the-line Jack Rabbit that has given me hundreds, possibly thousands of orgasms and many more to come, unless I burn out the motor.  What?  Let’s face it – that is a very real possibility as my need for orgasms will not be put on hold until Mr. Man has the time.  If I need it at 3 am, I don’t have time to wake him up, get him up and get a little.  I mean shit, I have to get up at 5:30 AM.  I want to roll over, grab it, do it and go right back to sleep.


There are other things I’ve written about that I’ve never received anything for.  Here, a small smattering:


Hostess never sent me shit when I talked about how their delicious snacks may have saved my life, or at the very least cushioned my fall. 


The Betty people never offered me free pube dye or a stencil kit or anything when I talked about them. 


The people from Whatever-Thousand Dollar Pyramid never thanked me for reminding people that they existed. 


The Transformers people never thanked me for my wonderful fan-fic piece I did, even if it was porn.


When I bitched about having a not-so-happy period, Always never sent me shit.  Neither did Playtex Sport when I demonized their little happy sayings on the tampon wrapper (you GO girl!). 


I’m certain that Tampax will not send me free plugs either, especially when I complain that the last few boxes of my favorite Tampax Pearls do not fit quite like they used to. I have a feeling that those babies may have been changed recently to make manufacturing costs a little cheaper.  However, this is NOT a good thing and I’m not the only person who has noticed that suddenly these are not the “go to” pon of choice any longer due to comfort issues. 


I would LOVE for the Instead Cup people to send me tons of free ones, but they have not.  Perhaps it would please them to know that I suggested to Kat that she give those a shot?  I’m going back to them post-haste, even if I haven’t gotten the hang of yanking a full one out without pulling back a bloody hand. 


I’m sitting here drinking my Diet Coke and am pissed off that my place of employment, has contracted with Pepsi to carry only their products.  Even the McDonalds here cannot serve the traditional Coke products, nor can there be any mention of Coke products, nor can they give away the Coke glasses when every other McD’s has that offer.  This does not stop the wonderful street vendors, such as Christopher’s Runaway Gourmet from selling Diet Coke,.  HOORAY!  As such, I will go out on the street and continue to purchase my Diet Coke (and receive my FREE smile from the folks working the stand).  You hear that FTC?  THE SMILE IS FREE, DAMN YOU! 


And to top it all off, my employer, has NOT paid for me to write this wonderful little blog, as I’ve done it solely on my UNPAID lunch break.  However, they DO make it possible for me to be gainfully employed and pay some bills here and there.  But I’m not required to disclose that to you. 

 

In the end, all of my shit is bought and paid for, with the exception of that one thing that one time but that was more of a gift, because I’m super cool and groovy.  Oh, and that other thing.  And that stuff.  And those samples.  And that cheese. And, and, and…


4:48 PM 
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Wednesday, October 14, 2009 

Current mood:  awake
Category: Blogging
With the boy in kindergarten, the world has really opened up for him.  Gone are the days when I could look at my husband and say, "What the F-U-C-K?"  (spelled out of course, at super fast speed so that little ears don't figure it out.)

Part of kids learning to read is recognizing the sounds certain letter groups make, finding rhyming words and then substituting different letters fro the first.  Once you know the sounds each letter of the alphabet makes, you can turn the simple word "UP" into cup or pup.  You can turn "ED" into bed, fed, led, Ned, ped, red, Ted or wed. 


So it should come as no surprise when my boy says to me, "Mom, what does A-T spell?" in order to read the words "bat, cat, hat, sat and pat" with little to no help. 

The other night, we were sitting on the couch.  I was minding my own business.  Jerry was watching some really boring talk show about football.  Josh pokes my calf and says, "Mom, what does A-S-S spell?"

Shocked that he would ask me, I looked up at the TV and saw "FIELD PASS".  So I say, "P-A-S-S spells pass". 

"I didn't ask that.  So what does A-S-S- spell?"

"Josh, it says P-A-S-S on the screen."

"Mom!  Tell me what does A-S-S spell?"

Jerry starts laughing. 

I toyed with the idea of saying, "A-S-S spells Dad." 

I finally said, "It spells something we don't say because it's not nice."

"But what does is SPELL?"  He asked me, speaking very s-l-o-w-l-y as if I were from a foreign country.  He even said the word 'spell' a little louder than the rest of the sentence to help make me understand.  

I tried ignoring.  I tried tickling him.  I tried distraction.  But the boy would not give up.  Finally he looks at me and says, "Does A-S-S spell ass?"

"Yes, Josh, it does."

"So now I can read it!  PASS!  It says PASS!" 

Incidentally, he can also read bass, lass, mass and sass.  Perhaps I should teach him "crass". 

XO
12:16 PM 
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Friday, October 02, 2009 

Current mood:  accomplished
Category: Blogging

I would like to drop kick the inventor of the horse-shoe shaped toilet seat. 


Hear me out here, and then I fully expect you to chime in with your two cents worth (which really is only worth a fraction of that, but only because of the economy these days.)


You have two basic types of toilet seats. 



Type A

The fully enclosed seat that covers the entire bowl



Type B

The horseshoe shaped piece of shit that leaves the front rim of the bowl wide open. 







Whose idea was this?  Really.  If I walk into a bathroom and it has a horseshoe shaped seat, I’m really not all that eager to sit down and take a leak.  I think about whether or not I can hold it a little longer.


Here’s the problem.  Walk into a house full of typical men.  Lift up the toilet seat.  Look at the rim of the toilet.  Would you want to touch that?  Would you want to put your girlie bits anywhere near that?  Or, if you’re a guy, would you want your junk dangling near it when you sit to take a crap?  Seriously?

 

The rim of a toilet bowl freaks me out, especially one THAT close to the front.  That’s the section that will catch the most droplets of pee when you boys are shaking, tapping, or strumming your instrument, or whatever it is you do in there.

 

So why oh WHY would I want to sit down on a seat where that rim is exposed?

 

It’s not just the thought of my cooter being that close to something so disgusting and vile.  Let’s face it, your junk will never REALLY touch that unlucky area.  But you know what?  When you take a pee, you’ve got to wipe.   This involves either shifting your weight to lean forward, putting your arm behind you and under your butt to wipe or attacking the soggy vag from the front.  If you go in from the front, you run the risk of dragging that toilet paper (or the back of your hand) right across the ring of nastiness.  And yet, you’re still going to wipe your vajayjay with it, aren’t you? 


Most of you do this without a thought, don’t you?  Bet you’ll think twice now. 

 

In the interest of fairness, it’s a problem with women too.  If a woman is a hoverer in a public restroom, she may drip a bit in that same area and neglect to wipe of the seat.  Which causes me to recoil in horror when I walk into that stall, and walk right back out without doing my business. 

 

I generally DO hover in a public rest room, but I’m a very neat pee-er, I assure you.  You’ll recall I generally carry my own flushable wipes.  Just ask Scilly about that.  She can vouch for me as she’s used them.  But I digress. 


While the type A toilet seat harbors just as many germs, I don’t have to THINK about them as much.  It’s just a more well thought out design.  It covers the nasty, and gives you a happy “out of sight out of mind” feeling when you go in to relieve yourself after a long day.    Unless someone sprinkled when they tinkled.  Then you just have to hope that they were sweet and wiped the seat.  With a Lysol Wipe.  Or some bleach. 


That’s what I’d like to see in public bathrooms  - disposable rubber gloves, Lysol wipes and people being responsible for their own urine.  But that’s another blog entirely. 


Your turn – horseshoe shaped or fully enclosed seats? 

 
5:58 PM 
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Tuesday, September 29, 2009 

Current mood:  adored
Category: Friends
Because it wasn't all serious....

Turn it up for the music.






XOXO


5:46 PM 
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Sunday, September 27, 2009 

Current mood:  adored
I could go on to describe the third day to you, but it's much the same as the first two with a little twist. 

Day 3 would take everything we had left and then some. 

We set out to finish what we started.  We were tired.  We were hurting.  But we were determined. 

The first 3 miles were those "work out the kinks" miles.  There was much laughter and no one started out in a big hurry.  Today was the day we could put it in low. 

Our girls were the mile 6 rest stop, and when we got there, everyone needed to sit and take care of their blisters, rewrap ankles, knees, feet, etc.  But I couldn't stop. 

I was feeling pretty sure if I stayed there too long, I'd never make it to the end.  It was getting warmer and there were still 4 miles left, including a short but steep hill. 

I set off from there on my own, hugs and kisses for the girls and a "see you on the other side". 

I walked the last 3 7/10ths of a mile alone.  I found time to reflect on all we'd accomplished.  I noticed the houses and the streets, the trees and the sky.  As I wound through the little tourist town, I thought of how grateful I was to have these strong-willed ladies walk with me.   I'd listened to people say, "I'm walking for my sister/mom/brother/husband/wife".  I thought, "what a beautiful sentiment" and then it hit me. 

These women, all with me from all across the country, were my friends.  There was no familial obligation. They weren't there because they had to be.  They were there because they wanted to be.  Let me tell you something.  Until you have a group of women give up their time to take part in something like this with you, FOR you, you can't imagine how it feels.  I didn't know.  I do now.  I mean I knew it was pretty special, but it wasn't until these last few miles that I realized how incredible it was that they were here at all.  Because they not only walked 50 miles or volunteered, they paid to be there.  They paid to be with me.  I guess I am kind of a big deal after all.  :)

Patty got to the end first.  I was second.  Our girls from the rest stop were waiting there.  My knee was killing me. Every step hurt and all I could think of were two things: 

1)  Give me some ice for my knee

and

2) Don't block my view so I can see when my girls finish. 

There was a luncheon and a program.  I don't know what went on during that.  I missed it.  And I didn't care because I was waiting for my girls.  My finish meant nothing without them. 

Tina and Janet came next - they sprinted across the finish line.  It was really quite funny. 
Dee was hot on their heels.    Adriane and Scilly came shortly after, and finally my whole team was there, with me, at the finish line. 

At some point, I was approached by one of the organizers who asked if LaDorkas would carry the "WALKERS" sign across the finish line.  This meant a couple of things.  Let me explain. 

The last 3/10ths of a mile is walked as a group.  The first group that goes are the Walkers with MS.  Then, the walkers, then the volunteers.  If we followed protocol, we could not have finished together as a team.  But because we were asked to carry the sign, we ALL got to walk together.  Her simply asking me to do this made me cry. 

Our team was awarded the "Team with the Most Spirit" award, which I think was their nice way of saying "The Loudest Team". 

When the final march started, we walked that 3/10ths of a mile smiling the whole way.  We were awarded medals as we crossed onto the Washington Island Ferry and under the FINISH line. 

We posed for some pictures, had a little celebration and got some lunch.  After that, the good byes started and didn't end until the following morning.   

September 20, 2009.    The day I completed my 50 mile journey toward a cure. 

I've already signed up for next year. 

www.ladorkas.com

There was some wild fun that Sunday night at the hotel, but we weren't whole, as Patty had gone home and Tina and Spooner were on their way home. 

Thank you will never be enough for these ladies.  I have nothing but love & respect for them.  I hope that each of you out there has at least one friend like this.  I'm the luckiest girl around  because I have 9. 

XOXO
5:04 PM 
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Saturday, September 26, 2009 

Category: Friends
Let’s talk Day 2, shall we? 

 So, at the start of day, I was worried. I hurt really badly when I first woke up. Everything inside of me screamed, “Don’t do this! There’s no shame. You’ve already walked farther than you ever thought you could!” 

 I lay in the bed thinking if I just got up and got moving, I could make a better decision about how to approach today. Maybe I could do 10? Maybe I’d still be hurting at 3 and have to throw in the towel. I swung my first leg out of bed, then my second as I sat up.

 I tried to stand up, lost my balance and sat back down instantly. Crap. I think I’m done. I remembered something Adriane had said earlier. She had the greatest pep talk about how I shouldn’t worry if I couldn’t do the whole thing. That’s why they were walking and if needed, I’d just have to let my friends be my legs. 

I thought about how Adriane was walking with a pulled calf muscle that only days before she thought would keep her from walking at all. Scilla was walking with a sore ankle from her previous surgery. She was hurting pretty bad at the end of day 1. Tina’s hip was bothering her a bit. Dee couldn’t move at the end of day 1. Patty’s calf had started to bother her. Carla’s blisters had taken over and replaced her feet. Janet? Well shit, Janet is a Superwoman so I was certain she was as good as gold. 

And then, there was me. I could crawl back in the bed and say “I did my best” or I could get up and soak in the tub, get some coffee in me and just try it and see where it takes me. Movement seems to work wonders for tired muscles. So, I got up and hobbled to the tub, and soaked. 

I got out feeling half way decent and thought, “Start with 3”. As we sat at breakfast, I looked at all of my friends eating. Each of us wearing our LaDorka team shirts that ALMOST didn’t make it. Sidebar: Adriane had trouble getting them and when she left for Milwaukee, they hadn’t even been printed yet. Near the middle of day 1, however, the company called her and told her they were out for delivery and we should have them at the resort upon our return. They were and they were BEAUTIFUL!

 

Back to my story. As I looked at these beautiful, strong women all wearing these shirts, I realized that this was, quite possibly, the most important thing I’d ever done. I got these women to come together, step out of their comfort zone to ask for donations, had them spend money on travel, hotels, etc. and THEN to walk 50 miles. If I could motivate them to do that, I could likely motivate them to each send me $50 a month and then I could quit work! Oh, wait… 

Seriously, I knew in that moment I’d be doing at least 10 miles that day. Not because I had anything to prove to anyone, but because I knew in my heart I was capable. We posed for team pictures in our new shirts. We had our “Dorka on 3” huddle. We irritated more walkers with our loudness. And Day 2 was on.

 


I started at a great pace for me. The first three miles went by really fast, as did the next three. It almost seemed easier than the day before. I was so excited that the more I walked, the better I felt. Of course, I had wonderful company so that made it easier.

Mile 25 was a big deal. Half way through our 50 miles.

 


After lunch, we made it to our girls who were somewhere around mile 10. I wanted so badly to just sit and relax, but I had lost so much time doing that at lunch and I knew the longer I sat, the harder it would be to get going again. I looked at the shuttle sitting there, thinking I could get on, call it 30 miles, do 10 tomorrow and be proud of 40. OR I could try a little more. I tried a little more. Janet and I walked the next stretch together. 

Somewhere along the line, I got tired and my ankles were hurting. I said something to Janet who jumped into Jillian Michaels/drill sergeant mode. It was both the funniest 5 minutes I’ve ever experienced and the most annoying. (you know I love you, Janet). We laughed so hard though, and it got me to the next stop, which was all I really wanted. 

We must have been about 5 or 6 miles out from the finish and Scilly was really hurting. I was hurting. We knew if we put on our ipods, we could cover more ground faster, as the pain melted away. I got a bit ahead of Janet and Scilly, but I had to keep moving. Those stretches where you walk alone, you have so much time to think and examine yourself.  You learn a lot about who you are and how much inner strength you have.  And, no one is around to hear you sing off-key to "Cheeseburger in Paradise."  


I finally made it close to the end of day two. I knew the lighthouse was right in front of me, I just had to go a little further. I was met by rocky terrain, and it hurt every piece of me just to navigate the rocks. When I got to the top of the rocks, I smiled at the girls checking off people and said something like “Just a word of advice. Next year, don’t end 40 miles on the rocks."   Then, I headed up the hill. 

I got to the top, and I saw Patty. That damn Patty is a power house and always finished before the rest of us. I wanted so badly to keep up with her, but that just wasn’t happening. Patty and I hugged and for the first time on the walk, I actually cried. I said to Patty, “I don’t think Scilly’s gonna make it.” Her ankle and her knee were really punishing her for walking, and I knew she didn’t have much left in her, if anything at all. There was no way she could make it up the rocks. Immediately after I said it, I think I may have started laughing. Not because Scilly was hurting, but because I sounded like I was in a war or something and I left a woman behind. When I saw Janet and Scilly coming up the hill, I was just amazed.

 


We got Scilly to sit down and smothered her with love and attention. Well, except for Janet. She wanted to know how far back Adriane was. And then, Janet went back down those rocks to get her. I can’t tell you the emotion that I felt when I saw those two coming up that hill.

 


We’d gotten through day 2. 40 miles down, 10 to go. It was that night that we had our celebration. After a very moving candlelight vigil where Donna got up to speak and made me cry like a little bitch, we rounded up the beer and headed to the room. 

 At some point, we picked up an extra person, Nancy. Apparently, she was looking for a bottle opener and came in to use ours. She didn’t leave until we all went to bed. I knew Nancy was a Dorka through and through, especially when she participated in a Dorka rite of passage that involves boobs giggles AND showed us all what the “Father Nelson” was.

Dorka initiation:
  
   




We laughed so hard that night, just sitting around talking and giggling, drinking beer and just being friends. Tomorrow was day 3. Only 10 miles. Looking at these women, I knew we’d all be just fine and we’d walk that last stretch together, the way it was meant to be.
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Friday, September 25, 2009 

Current mood:  amorous
Category: Friends
And no, I will not change the music.  So .


As I said yesterday, I’d take a break on this, the 1 week anniversary of the first day I walked 20 miles, to talk about our team’s volunteers and honorary LaDorkas. We had three people sign up to be volunteers – Donna, Kat and Kristin. Their job every day was to put aside their own issues and go out there and smile for others. They were the cheerleaders, the waitresses, the loving arms when you needed a break.




Kat worked very hard on some beautiful signage for their booth. “U.S. against MS”. She put a star on every license plate whose state gave us a donation. What made it easy for her is that we received at least one from all 50 states, including the last-minute Rhode Island donation.
 





Donna had the fabulous idea of laying out a white sheet and some sharpies and inviting everyone who walked to trace their hands and sign the sheet. The purpose? To show unity. All of us coming together for a common cause. It turned out beautifully, even if we did all have sharpie on our hands for the rest of the day.

 






Our girls worked very hard, smiling, talking and encouraging every one who went through the stop. The love and support we got from our girls was incredible.

.






Judging by the number of email addresses and contact information Donna received, I’m guessing quite an impression was made. I can’t tell you how it felt every day to know that we were almost to the rest stop our girls were working. We’d start about ½ mile out yelling “HOOTIE HOO!” and waiting for the answer back. That’s how we knew we were close. Here we are the first time we saw their beautiful booth.

 

On to the Honorary LaDorkas. The first rule of LaDorkas, is that you don’t talk about LaDorkas. Oh wait, that’s Fight Club. We WANT you to talk about the LaDorkas. We made a fabulous impression on the people at the NMSS – WI Chapter. Even if we were labeled as “loud”, we were asked back again next year.

Several people wanted to be LaDorkas and we took the opportunity to make them “Honorary LaDorkas”. It was just as simple as a sticker on their shirt that said “Honorary LaDorka”, but whenever I saw one of these, I immediately had to hug the bearer. These would be the people who loved, cared, shared, and showed the spirit and good humor that the rest of us had.

There was Donna. And Nancy. And Sloth. And Shawn. And a large handful of others, most of whom I didn’t know. However, there was at least one honorary member who was really a member of the Great Wolf Lodge team. I think she knew where it was truly at, so came on over to our side.

To each of the people who took the time to give fully of themselves, I am grateful.

The weekend wasn’t about how far one could walk. It wasn’t about who had the prettiest hair, the coolest sun glasses, or the best sense of humor. It was about reaching out and listening. It was about ignoring your own personal issues and coming together to find an end to Multiple Sclerosis. It was about pushing yourself to be the very best person you can possibly be, and as a whole I think Team LaDorkas was the best team ever.

So, to Kristin, Kat and Donna I say thank you for giving up a weekend to do something that was greater than any one of us. I hope each of you found something to be grateful for while you were there.  *elbow touch*  Thanks for coming.

Kat: Thank you for the beautiful signs. They really were awesome, and I should know – I saw every other rest stop the entire weekend and I’m quite certain that no one put in half as much work on theirs as you did on ours. I am honored to call you my friend.

Donna: Thanks you for the wonderful idea of the sheet. Something as simple as strangers tracing their hands really moved me when I looked at it that night back in the hotel room. I hope you keep it close to your heart and know that you were part of something magical.

Shawn: Your humor was appreciated by all. The fact that you gave up an entire weekend, including Badger and Packer games, to come out and drive to ensure the safety of walkers speaks volumes for you as a person. I know we’ve told you this individually, but all of us are grateful for you and the rest of the SAG vehicle drivers. Probably more than you could ever know. (I’d give a shout out to the other divers too, but they all told us their name was Shawn, so I thought I’d just go with it.)

Nancy: Walk with us next year. Invite your friends to join our team. We know you secretly wanted an orange recorder. Maybe we can get you one next year.

The other Donna: I didn’t get a chance really to talk to you, but from all Kristina and Donna tell me, you’re a peach. You belong, and I’m proud that you are an Honorary LaDorka. We’d love to have YOU on our team next year as well – either as a walker or a volunteer. We just want to keep you.


Our photo with the honorary LaDorkas we could find on the boat:

 

And if by some magical chance our honorary LaDorkas see this, we’d love to have you be a part of our magic next year. We’re better than Disney World, baby! Ms. Nancy hung out with us in our room at the “after walk” party. She knows. Girls, now’s your chance to shout out to the other honorary LaDorkas. They may never see this, but then again, you never know who might Google “LaDorkas” and be pointed in this direction. Now give me a big fat HOOTIE HOO!

 

Love you. XOXO








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Thursday, September 24, 2009 

Current mood:  accomplished
Category: Friends

It’s a difficult task to try and separate the days of the walk, as they all start to blur together at some point, but I’ll do my best. 

 

Friday morning.  After breakfast and some general running around trying to get all of my shit together, we all met up outside, ready for the bus ride to the starting point. 

 

To make a long story short, we walked 20 miles that day. 

 

The end. 

 

Seriously though...






Look how happy and excited we were! Fools. 



I'll do a blog later about the scenery, so let me skip that for now.  I can tell you that the walk was beautiful.  The company was supreme.  And when I hit that first rest stop 3 miles in, I was never so happy to see a port-a-potty my entire life. 


And so, we walked.  All at our own pace and comfort level, so WHO you walked with tended to depend on who else was hurting, who had the same amount of energy as you and what pace each person decided to keep. 

 

I was good until about mile 16.  Thankfully, I had the beautiful Scilly to keep me company that last 4 miles or I may have given the big old thumbs down to the SAG drivers. 



A word about the SAG drivers.  These are the Support and Gear vehicles.  They bring you water.  They bring you candy.  They bring you enthusiasm, encouragement and smiles. Sometimes, they bring you Red Bull.  








They tell you crazy things like, “It’s illegal to text while walking”, but "Facebooking while walking is OK". They make you feel like you really matter, and like someone has your back.  Especially when you’re walking alone through a wooded area and know that at any moment, some psycho with a hockey mask could jump out at you and cut your tits off with a machete.   Seriously though, all you had to do was give them a thumbs up if you were good to go and a thumbs down if you needed a ride. 




Long about mile 17, I wanted to put a finger up, but it wasn’t my thumb.  It would have been so easy to thumbs down it at this point, but I wanted this.  I wanted this more than I have wanted anything in a long, long time.  I wanted it almost as much as I wanted there to be a Joshy B before there was a Joshy B. 

 

Mile 18, we passed a touristy bike-rental place and Scilla and I lamented on how it might be easier to rent a bike for the last couple of miles, but honestly, I don’t think either of us could have pedaled. 






We stopped to admire some of the locals on the way in and then it was there – day 1 finish line. 






We made it 20.  I crawled across the finish line for dramatic effect, then just lay on the ground laughing.  I had never been so happy to take off my shoes and socks, ever. 




Next, you get into the van and ride back to the resort.  Let me tell you something about riding in a van after walking 20 miles.  It’s good to finally sit down and let someone drive you around.  However…when you stop and have to get out of the van, that’s a whole different story.   


Every muscle in your body revolts against you.  They are done, they don’t want to move.  Good thing the driver is a good guy to help get your ass out of the van.  But after that, you are on your own.  Believe me when I say it is pretty damn hard to move.  You’re fine if you keep going, but stopping just makes all of your muscles freeze up.   They call you terrible names when you try to move them again, even the next morning. 


That night Scilla and I soaked our feet in a tub filled with ice water, drank a couple beers and just sat around. 



The walking was over for the day.  We were all too tired to attend the special speakers that night, but we had our own little love fest in the room.  We were all so tired though, so it was pretty subdued. 


I slept that night like I’d never slept before.  And my eyes popped open the next morning at 5 am, knowing I needed to somehow get moving again, as there was another 20 miles in front of me. 






The next blog will cover the rest stops and our girls there. And what it means to be an Honorary LaDorka.   Then I’ll move on to walk day #2.  There’s just so much. 


XOXO

1:49 PM 
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Wednesday, September 23, 2009 

Current mood:  adored
Category: Blogging
These ladies truly are the best friends a girl could ask for.  


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Tuesday, September 22, 2009 

Category: Friends
This will be done in many parts.  Mostly because I'm tired and can't wrap my head around the many things that happened.  

First and foremost, what you've been waiting to hear:

I touched boobs.  Lots of boobs.  I will be updating the map tomorrow to include Georgia, Washington, Mississippi and Arizona.  Did I forget anyone else?  


OK, onward.  

It all began in Milwaukee, WI.  When my dad first stuck his dick in my mom.  No wait, that's not the right story.  Damn it.  

OK, let's go with day #0 (Thursday)

It was my pleasure to be met at the airport by the ever lovely Tina and Adriane.  We hugged, kissed, and mutually masturbated.  And by "mutually masturbated" I mean we went to the airport lounge and ate lunch.  

One by one, my other girls started to arrive.  Donna.  Dee.  Kat.  Scilly.  Kristin.  Carla.  and finally...NEW YORK, i.e., Janet.  We greeted each with signs, hugs and the occasional ass grab and/or nipple tweak.  What do you expect when you're greeted by a psycho?  








There, is that everyone at the airport? Shit, I hope so.


However, I have to tell you that before I could even get a hand on Janet's boobs, she reached out and grabbed mine.  And by that time, I'd forgotten all about grabbing hers.  Besides, I knew I had three days to fondle her.  


There sat the 10 of us.  Eating, drinking and socializing like old friends.  

I think I took upwards of around 50 pictures right there in the airport.  I already had met the bulk of these women.  The couple I hadn't met  were complete freaks and just really made me feel socially awkward.  KIDDING.  Mostly.  :-D

We finally got on the road to Door County in our two vans, and made it up there and checked in all before 9 PM.  

I think when I walked up to the registration booth and said, "Kim Bertram" the entire resort paused and turned around to stare at me.  "Oh, YOU are a LaDorka!"  I replied, "Yes, yes I am.  We are here.  And, I'm kind of a big deal you know".  

And right there in that moment of pumpernickleness, we changed the entire mood of everyone at the walk.  They didn't know it right then, but they would be exposed to the greatest team of hookers and lesbians ever to walk anywhere near Door County.  Or should I say Dorka County?
Shortly after that we got to meet Patty for the first time, and our team was complete!

 

And now, you have to wait for part 2.  Which will cover Day #1 - Friday - 20 Miles.  AKA - Kiss my ass.  Whose idea was this anyway?  

*SMOOCHES*
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