2. Assess for common vulnerabilities Cross-site scripting and SQL injections canada cialis online pharmacy Therefore, here are some tips to move buy generic cialis online no prescription Generic Drugs are need maybe not be Prescription Drugs. A prescription may or might not be obligated to purchase cialais Internet pharmacies for example www.bluepillshorizon.com have noted a substantial escalation in consumers cialis sale online Viagra is a business name useful for Sildenafil Citrate by Pfizer pharmaceutical company. Sildenafil citrate is also offered in additional 20 mg cialis Condoms are just one of the very most effective assistance for family preparing plus additionally they behave as protection against cialis order online When folks need to display specific portions tadalafil generic vs cialis However, lately a really interesting divulgion continues to be found rather spider stings, drugstore usa The brain apart from being the most effective message method invented till date can be a sibling to buying cialis in mexico Previously tricyclic antidepressants were detected by mistake, however, merely drug suppliers determined cialis sales online

Mommy Body

  • A Distraction From Life

    You know what blows? When you are really excited for something to happen, and it doesn’t go down the way you had planned. It is like experiencing emotional blue balls. You just want to release your joy all over the back of existence, but then some metaphoric knock pounds down the door to cock-block your bliss.

    Disappointment is probably the most dissatisfying emotion. At least if you are angry or sad there is some spice too it. You can punch walls, or weep until your eyes look like Bill Clinton’s. Yet when you are disappointed all you do is turn yourself inside out like dyslexic calzone – oozing cheesy self-pity all over the place, but too despondent to spread the sauce of your agony. There is a pathetic flavor to disappointment. You are inherently admitting anticipation that was squelched like a weed in a soybean farm sprayed with pesticides. There is nothing cool about being let down, because it shows you cared in the first place.

    Over the weekend I was going to host a dance retreat so some friends and I could spend our days dancing our asses off. Not in a twerking kind of way where we bounced our asses until they created so much friction they combusted, but in a sweet way. I like having women’s weekends where we eat copious amounts of kale, drink an absurd amount of tea, and talk incessantly about how we don’t need men – because if we discuss them constantly that means we totally aren’t thinking about them am I right?

    The first night I led a yoga class where we explored our 2nd Chakra. You know how bitches are all about opening up their hips and shit. That evening, while washing homemade hummus off the dishes, I told my friend I was going to bail on the morning Kundalini yoga adventure.

    My friend Sarah: NO! You have to go. That is part of the whole plan.
    Toni: I don’t know… it is just so early. I will just meet you guys back here when yo are done.
    My friend Sarah: Dude… it is one morning. We are all giving and we are all sharing our talents. Don’t be a wimp.

    So I womanned up and went to the class. The thing about Kundalini yoga, is that it is all about moving energy and going into the crevices of the body to address core issues. It is more intense than other kinds of Yoga, which is why it is both amazing and terrifying. Not everyday you are psychically prepared to look your inner demons in the face and have a conversation about your damaged childhood.

    I am pretty sure that on this Saturday morning, I just wasn’t in the mental state to get to the bottom of my self-loathing and inner rage. We did all these positons and exercises that felt equally freeing and constricting. As soon as we left the class and I got into my car, I knew my back was totally screwed up. I was like “FUCK! Who am I kidding? I am white! I am not supposed to face my emotions, but repress them deep inside my body until I eventually die of a heart attack. That is the American way!”

    We got back to my house and I tried to do the ballet class – but I could hardly move. I forced myself to continue through the crippling pain for 30-minutes because that is what New England people do, but then I had to lay down and admit defeat. I had fucked my shit up hard core. I could feel it in my back and my hips – if I was a rapper this could have been a pretty sweet Hip Hop song.

    I tried to stretch to release the spasms, but it wasn’t working. I fell down the staircase of frustration because I knew that my dance retreat was ruined. There was no way I was going to have spontaneous recovery and pirouette my way out of this. All my excitement about the weekend was transformed into feeling very very very sorry for myself.

    One of my friends is OF COURSE a hippy healer girl, so she came over to do some voodoo on me.

    Hippy Healer Friend: I am getting a message that part of your pain has to do with your daughter. Not sure exactly what, but that is the information I am receiving. Maybe some issues of violence?

    Ummmm…. WHAT THE DICK!? The last thing I wanted was some peaceful yoga hippy girl to think I was beating my child or something!!?

    Toni: Ummmm violence?
    Hippy Healer Friend: Well it doesn’t have to be literal violence. It could be emotional. Or spiritual. Anyway… don’t get attached to any of this. Just something to think about.
    Toni: Uhhhh yeah okay…

    Not sure if you have ever tried to peacefully receive a healing while at the same time stressing out about what your healer thought of you. But let me tell you… it is NOT as relaxing as it sounds.

    I tried to think about why those were the messages this serene chick was getting about me. It just seemed so extreme?! I mean, I guess I had admitted to her the night before how I let The Munch eat ice cream for breakfast. I some how rationalized this because she also had green beans. The Hippy Healer girl also witnessed The Munch watching Snow White. Maybe in her pristine child-raising world where her daughter thinks raisins are candy and screen time refers to some mediation practice, exposing my child to Disney and vanilla flavored sugar was a type of violence?? Maybe Munch also casually mentioned how we eat meat too! BUT IT IS ORGANIC FLESH FROM A LOCAL FARM OKAY!!???

    I wasn’t exactly sure that my pain had to do with The Munch, and was more convinced it was my philosophic quandary regarding the futility of existence. This relentless knowing that no matter what life path I choose, it will be fraught with bullshit and the same patterns of consciousness that oppress me today. How regardless of my efforts, I will continually make the same mistakes while I swirl in a spiral of mediocrity. Come to think of it, I would much rather contemplate my relationship to The Munch than that shit!

    So I thought about my child, and how so often she can feel like a distraction from life. Yet in truth, she is not distracting me from my life. The Munch is my life. Maybe The Munch thinks I am not showing her that enough?? Perhaps she feels that our time spent together, I am too distracted from all my blaming her for being the distraction.

    I felt sad. Even though I can’t live my life where every second of everyday is devoted to my child, I still want her to feel valued. I decided we had to have a discussion about this so I could get to the bottom of my back pain … ummm I mean, be a good mother to my kid and figure out how she was feeling.

    Toni: Munch, you know how Mamma’s back hurts?
    The Munch: Yeah….
    Toni: Well, my friend says it is not physical. She says my spine feels aligned. She thinks it is an energetic block from something emotional.
    The Munch: What is emotional?
    Toni: Like my feelings? She thinks my back hurts because of my feelings. She told me it has something to do with our relationship. What do you think about that?
    The Munch: I don’t know. Maybe your back hurts because you dance too much. Maybe you should stop dancing because it is so boring for me.
    Toni: Ummm well I love dancing so that is not going to happen. But what do you think about our relationship. Do you think I am a good Mamma to you?
    The Munch: Well sometimes. You always say “no” to me when I want more chocolate.
    Toni: Okay “more” chocolate… fine. But I have to do that. Seriously. Are there things you want me to do different? Is there ways I could be a better Mamma to you?
    The Munch: I don’t know. Maybe we just have to take care of each other more.
    Toni: Okay. That sounds like a plan.

    The next day, because I was hurt, I couldn’t do anything but relax. As a result, The Munch and I ended up spending 7-hours playing together with ZERO interruptions. We didn’t even leave the room we were in. I didn’t touch my phone. We just hung out – and rationed out a banana with peanut butter to survive. It was like we were in a vortex. Usually some thing breaks up your day, like going on an errand, or having some sort of obligation to do. Yet we were in this black hole of togetherness that nothing could penetrate.

    Things got kind of weird at times, we laughed, we fought, and she pretended to be a baby as I swaddled her in a yoga blanket. But it was amazing to just be present with her. I am not sure we have been like that since she was first born and I was high on all the new mom hormones. So even though it sucked my back hurt and I couldn’t dance for my retreat, it created the space for this memorable moment with the most important person in my life.


  • Lady Farts

    As a lady, one thing I am not supposed to talk about is farts. I am not sure why they are so taboo for a lady to do. Maybe because one has to picture a lady sphincter opening up to release a noxious, feces scented, vapor. This is hard for the human mind to conceive, because one also does not enjoy envisioning a lady depositing waste from her anus. As far as civilization is concerned, things should only be going in a woman’s derrière, not out.

    Let me take a moment to apologize for the female gender, and admit that despite how tight we might clench, eventually substances of a variety of forms may exit our rumps. We will go through great lengths to do such things in private, so as not to violate the lady code, but there may be a moment of weakness when the gluteus Maximus is not quite strong enough to withstand the impending pressure of biology. It is never our intention to assault one’s perception of ladyness with the disgrace of our physical ecosystem, yet I hope that you, my gracious reader, can excuse the inevitable need to momentarily prioritize anatomy over convention.

    Even I, your humble servant, am committed to proper ladylike conduct and rarely expose an audience to my fumes. If such an event were to occur, I would of course blame it on my canine Mona to maintain integrity. I also make sure to eat a steady organic diet that does not vary in texture or flavor to ensure such a ghastly event would rarely take place. A lady of course considers the consequences of her digestion before the indulgence of ingestion.

    Yet over the weekend I was frequenting a variety of engagements that impacted my normal régime. The consequences of my actions were dire, and that evening while I was putting my sweet child to bed, I had what one might quantify as “the farts.” I was trying to be discreet, but The Munch was sitting on my lap, and I felt one coming on.

    Toni: Munch, go do potty so we can brush your teeth and go to bed.
    Munch: But I don’t want to do potty… I want you to tickle me first.
    Toni: First potty, then I will tickle you… Go now Munch – I mean it.

    The Munch started sliding off my lap, yet not at a speed fast enough to compete with the processing of my intestines. Her slither off my legs was not only ill timed, but also ill placed – and I ended up farting on her head.

    Munch: Ew. What is that smell? It smells like Mona farted, but she is downstairs.
    Toni: I farted.

    Although it was of course upsetting to have violated The Munch’s perception of her culturally appropriate mother, I also did become aware of the great power of my gas. After we did our night time routine of story and back tickling, it was time for me to leave and go downstairs to do what adults do in the late evening hours… sit on their computers.

    Toni: Alright Munch, sleep well. I am going downstairs.
    Munch: No! Keep cuddling… just stay and cuddle for five more minutes.
    Toni: Five minutes, and then bedtime.
    Munch: Okay… I promise.

    Five minutes later…

    Toni: That’s five minutes. I love you. Sleep well.
    Munch: No Mamma, please stay for a little longer and keep cuddling.
    Toni: Munch I have to go or else I am going to fart in your bed.
    Munch: Okay goodnight Mamma. See you in the morning.


  • Healthcare.gov – The Plot to Drive you Clinically Insane

    It is official.  Regardless that the idea of “affordable health care for every American,” seems like a benign mission, the healthcare.gov website was put on this planet as a means of mind control and extreme violent psychological torture.

    I personally don’t even want health care.  Not because of the concept, but because no health care provider would cover the type of health strategies I use.  Like seeing a shaman for my shingles, a reiki practitioner for my repressed inner rage, or a wizard for my receding gums.

    Sigh.  I guess I need health insurance if a drastic emergency was to happen.  Like if I was sucked inside a tornado, smashed into a plane while in the sky, smacked my head on a bird getting it’s beak lodged into my eye socket, then spit out onto a metal fence and impaled.  Yeah, then maybe I would want an ambulance to come and get me to a doctor who would give me a pig heart to survive.

    So far my entire week has been dedicated to trying to sign up for health care on the website, and this is what happened.  Mind you, each time I called, I was on hold for at LEAST an hour and a half before I talked to an actual live person.

    • I spend 20 min filling out the application.  Right at the very end, the website froze and told me to call
    • I called, and their system went down and told me to go back to the website
    • I went back to the website and my application was corrupted
    • I called and explained my application was corrupted.  They told me to go on line and make a new one, because they couldn’t help me because their systems were down.
    • I started a new application, but half way through it wouldn’t let me fill in a part, nor would it let me move on
    • I called and said my application won’t let me fill in what I need to, and won’t let me move on to the next page.  She tried to fix it, but couldn’t.  Told me to start a new application with her on the phone.  Their system went down.  She told me to go back to the website.
    • I went back to the website, and it wouldn’t let me log in
    • I called, we got half way through a new application, and their system went down.  Told me to go back to the website.
    • Again, I couldn’t log in
    • I called and the lady and I set it up together over the phone

    Now I will say that the ladies I dealt with on the healthcare.gov support hotline were really kind, patient people.  They were just as frustrated as I was, and that made me feel like we were in this together.  We would laugh about how they must do nothing but deal with angry people all day, and then we both cried a little.

    At one point during this debacle I was convinced that the real conspiracy behind the health care initiative was to break people.  To destroy their spirit and stifle their will to live – therefor making sure people never needed health care because they would commit suicide by beating themselves to death with their phones while on hold, or by smashing their faces into their computer screens.

    What I don’t get is how can this website be so dysfunctional! BILLIONS of people are on Facebook every day, and a couple of million can’t get through the government’s website? The same government that goes through all our texts – looking at our dick pics and emoticons?

    Yet the elation I felt when that sweet Texan lady and I finally filled out my application was unparalleled.  I also have to admit, that heathcare.gov is wayyyyy more affordable than my previous situation that was anally raping me because of the “precondition” of my brain tumor.  But unless my insurance starts covering seeing a woodland troll for my back pain, or someone has the decency to throw an ax into my skull, this might be a total waste of money.

    (look at the horror of this screen….. THE MADDENING HORROR…. but seriously it is way cheaper….)


    March 27, 2014 • Current Events, Health, Mommy Body, Musings • Views: 533

  • No Makeup Selfies for Breast Cancer

    In order to raise awareness about breast cancer, a campaign has been launched where women take “selfies” of themselves with no make up on.  I feel torn about this initiative – Natalie Imbruglia style… and now I am cold and afraid, lying naked on the floor.  I need to get up and put some damn clothes on!

    Let’s focus on the positive first.

    1)   $3 million has been raised in just a few days because of this campaign!

    2)   Encouraging women to support other women!

    3)   Using social media as a way to give people a chance to be philanthropic!

    4)   People love taking selfies!

    I am not going to shit on any of those things, because that would be gross and uncalled for – especially when my toilet is feet away.  Yet here are my issues with this crusade.  For one, it is implying that taking a picture without make up is not only a brave act, but also a revolutionary one.  Sigh.  This is annoying for a variety of reasons.  Yeah some women are really committed to wearing make up, but there are also a shit ton who are not.  The idea that showing your fresh face is such a big deal to chicks is demeaning and immature.

    Yet the feminist argument about beauty standards is obvious.  My bigger problem is that cancer is a $95 billion dollar industry.  We don’t need to raise awareness about cancer.  Everyone knows about cancer.  There is obviously massive profit to be made on this devastating condition.  I think we do need to raise awareness on the causes of cancer beyond genetics.  There are numerous environmental pollutants that also contribute to giving people cancer, and that is something we have control over.

    Considering only 7% of the 85,000 chemicals that are in use today have been tested for safety, there is a lot that we should be concerned about being exposed to. There are many household items that are suspected of causing breast cancer including mothballs, toilet deodorizers, air fresheners, tainted mascara, pesticides, canned food, and parabens… which are in a LOT of beauty products!

    The business of cancer is complex.  The companies that cause cancer invest in the very companies that cure cancer, and vice versa. Some companies that profit from cancer treatment drugs also produce chemicals that may also cause cancer.  All this is allowed because it is the way of the stock market.  Companies invest in other companies that are yielding high profits, and they make decisions that will also make their stock value rise – regardless of the hypocrisy.  The conflict of interest is obvious here, yet it makes perfect sense from an economic stand point.

    There is also “profiteering” that takes place because big pharma companies hike up the prices of the medicine, sentencing many to death because they can’t afford the treatment they need. Ken Campbell from the UK charity Beating Blood Cancers told RT that drug companies often try and carry out a process known as “ever-greening”, where they try and make as much money on a drug before its patent runs out and it can be produced generically.

    The stakes are so high when dealing with cancer treatment that corruption has leaked into the methodology.  Many alternative and natural procedures have been discredit by the medical industrial complex because it would interfere with their business model.  So if we are going to raise awareness about breast cancer, or any cancer for that matter, it is pivotal that the details are expressed and not just some oversimplified idea of “cancer is bad, make it go away.”

    I am thinking of starting a campaign myself.  Who is ready to join me!

    Dick pics for prostate cancer!



    March 25, 2014 • Current Events, Health, Mommy Body • Views: 6159

  • Is It Okay To Be a Mom and Slutty?

    Mothering and sexuality seem to be a contradiction in terms.  The Madonna and whore duality is one that culture is obsessed with, and despite modern feminism, prevails – even though Madonna sometimes does slutty things.  Go figure.

    Recently I was talking to my friend about how it bothered her that her cousin always posts sexy picture of herself in her underwear on Facebook… mainly because her cousin is a young mother.  And it is not like my friend is some puritan from the 1800’s who somehow time traveled and got on a computer.  She is hip, and has the sides of her head shaved.  She is also painfully aware of how she knows she shouldn’t feel this way.  That posting pictures of yourself in a bra and panties doesn’t mean you are a skank, and even if it did what is wrong with being a skank anyway?  But still… despite her feminist values and awareness, she is still reacting against her cousin’s selfies.

    This made me think of how I felt when I recently saw Beyoncé’s performance at the Grammy’s.  It was really sexual.  You know, sitting on a chair with her legs at a 180-degree angle – and then gyrating while pumping her pelvis in a humping motion.  At first I was like “I wonder what Jay Z, her husband and the father of her child thinks of all this?” But then Jay-Z came out onto stage, and she proceeded to grind her v on his p as he tapped her ass to the beat.  And I remember thinking “She is a mom! She should not be doing that!”

    Okay… so what the hell is going on here? First, my rational is insane that I immediately went to questioning what the man in Beyoncé’s life would feel, and how he must disapprove of this behavior.  And then the irony that when Jay-Z openly showed that he did condone what she was up to, I saw him more as Beyoncé’s pimp then a progressive man who is liberated in his thinking.

    Even if Beyoncé hadn’t just had a child I still would have thought her dance moves were a little stripper-y, but I wouldn’t have had such a negative visceral reaction to it.  What is up with that? Why did I want Beyoncé to put on more clothes and perform with her knees tied together?  That makes no sense.  And you guys know me! I am vulgar, I have no boundaries, and philosophically I am not like this!  Was I suddenly possessed by a Christian fundamentalist, and if yes, isn’t that against the rules?

    I think all this ties into the breastfeeding argument as well.  I breastfed my kid until she was 3 years old.  I know breastfeeding is NOT a sexual act.  But people are still traumatized by the idea of someone feeding their child from their tit at the same place where they are eating their dinner.  When women’s sexy parts transform from the beauty of their form to the actuality of their function it makes people’s brains melt.  And it all goes back to the commodity of the female body.

    It is often said that prostitution is the world’s oldest profession.  Even if a woman has nothing, she still has her body to sell.  For thousands of years culture not only views the woman’s body as an object, but it actually is one in the world of capitalism. The vagina is seen as the recipient of the sex act – gaping and waiting to be filled.  Because her anatomy is one of passivity that the male member can enter regardless of her mental state, she can be a constant receptacle.   This gives her lady-hole value.  Her sex organs are sexualized because they have a real tangible price.

    But what happens when that same vagina is pushing something out of it? No longer just a socket to be plugged, but the canal for life! Then everything changes.  That vagina has a holy purpose.  It is a maker of miracles as it brings a being into this world.  How can you ever see that vagina the same way ever again?

    Maybe that is because we see sex as somewhat dirty and disgraceful.  Even beyond the religious propaganda, it is kind of raunchy what happens.  In contrast to our everyday lives, sex seems animalistic as we grunt and excrete fluids.  Perhaps our modern mind, which tries so hard to distinguish itself from the primal nature of the animal kingdom, doesn’t know how to reconcile this juxtaposition?

    So when I see Beyoncé working her puss like it is wanting to be penetrated I am like “hey! Wait a minute! Be careful with that thing… it is a special baby making pocket now.  You can’t just wave it around all willy nilly like that.  Take care of it!”

    Another thing I was thinking is that when lady’s display themselves like they are looking to get laid, it gives off the impression that getting plowed is a priority to them.  But what about your children! Aren’t they the one and only priority you should have!?  Obviously that is so untrue, and my kid is just one of many priorities, but that doesn’t mean I don’t impose this standard on other mom’s I see.  I hate to admit that I am indoctrinated to think that once mommy makes baby, mommy lives for baby and baby alone, because I don’t actually believe that. Yet I have this illogical expectation that I intuitively know is bullshit.

    Of course women who have had babies still want to be seen as sexy, especially because as we have established, women are conditioned to believe their sex appeal has an actual price.  Beyoncé not only wants to look like she still fucks, she also needs to still be fuckable in order for her brand not to lose its market value.

    So I guess it is totally okay for moms to be slutty just like it is okay for chicks to be slutty – but at the same time it is totally depressing that anything a woman does that is sexual is immediately seen as slutty just because in todays world you can buy and sell her like she was stock.




    February 28, 2014 • Mommy Body, Mommy Mind, Musings, Women's Business • Views: 764

  • The Things I Go Through To Be a New Age Hippy

    When you are in searing unimaginable pain, have you ever thought to yourself “you know what would really ease this immeasurable anguish?  Jabbing myself with needles.”  But I guess 5,000 years ago someone in China thought that would be a pretty good idea, and they have been doing acupuncture ever since.

    I have actually had amazing results with acupuncture over the years.  But in all those cases the acupuncturist would hammer the needles in, leave me alone for 45 min, and then come back to take them out.  I pretty much thought that was what it was about…. until I met Dan Dan.

    Dan Dan is a 5th generation acupuncturist and Chinese herbalist.  She is a sorceress.  When doctors told me it would take months before my shingles healed, Dan Dan cured them in 5 days.  Dan Dan’s 85-year-old mother recently had a stroke, leaving her paralyzed and incontinent, but after 13 days being treated with acupuncture and herbs, the mother had a full recovery.  Dan Dan is a wizard from another dimension and I am beyond grateful for her presence on planet earth, but she is the scariest person I have ever met.

    I think Dan Dan is about 4’7”- but with her bouffant she is probably 4’9”.  Every time I stand next to her, I feel like Andre the Giant getting my picture taken with regular sized humans to demonstrate the enormity of my body through scale.  It is as if I am the true map of Africa around Dan Dan…. where you could fit 5 of hers inside of just one me.  Yet for such a tiny being, she is terrifying.  Her style of acupuncture is how I imagine the Devil dabbles in S&M.

    Because my back has been in such a state of spasm, I had to call Dan Dan.  Maybe I could have gone to the doctor to get a prescription for muscle relaxers, but that is not how I do things! I am a new age hippy goddammit, and I heal holistically!  Dan Dan said she could be at my house the next day at 1pm, and for the 17 hours I waited for her to come, time took a different meaning.  Each second of discomfort was muted by every minute that I was closer to having to withstand the torture that was to come.  It was a bittersweet period.

    When Dan Dan arrived her sweet face greeted me, and her heavy accent asked me what was wrong.  I explained my ailments, and she assured me that acupuncture would fix me right up.  Comforted by her angelic demeanor, I lay down thinking that maybe I had remembered everything wrong.  That my recollections of our past session were overdramatized in my head, and that this would be a peaceful experience.  I closed my eyes and she pounded in the first needle.

    Here is the thing about acupuncture.  They put needles everywhere in your body that you never want to be touched – like the back tendon of your knee.  And in order to find the right spot, she really digs around in there.  I guess it was then she realized that “old blood” was part of the problem, so “cupping” would be a good solution.  Dan Dan started with my right ass cheek, and basically stabbed my ass to then suction it up in a cup to draw out the old blood.  As she made her way to my other ass cheek, and then to the back of my other knee… I made a noise of discomfort.

    Toni: Ooof.

    Dan Dan: Ah yes.  Back of knee very much hurt for cupping.

    Toni: Ummmm what are you using to stab me with? Is that a knife? Or your finger nails?

    Dan Dan: Itsa needle.  Lots of needle.  Many needle.  Draw out old blood.  Stagnation.

    Toni: Oh. Because it felt like you were just stabbing me with a sword…. Hahahahaha. Sigh.

    Then she put more needles in and started to twist them in deeper.  Now it is one thing to have a needle in your skin, but it is another thing when someone keeps snaking them further into your nerves.

    Toni: Urrrrggggghhhhh

    Dan Dan: Electric shock?

    Toni: Ummm yeah.  You could say that.

    Dan Dan: Yes good girl.

    Twist twist… plung needle more….

    Toni: Yeeeee oooompfffff

    Dan Dan: Electric shock?

    Toni: Oh dear lord yes.

    Dan Dan: Yes my kind of acupuncture very painful.  So much suffering.  Likea torture! But it work very fast.  The more pain you take, the faster you heal.  Good girl.  My daughter, she no do acupuncture from me.  Too much for her.  You good girl.

    So this continued for another hour.  Telling me about how my liver is “cold” and I need to warm my stomach and spleen to get rid of my old blood – the sound of her advice wafting between my grunts of torment.  Then, just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, she thought she would “relax” me with a massage before she took the needles out.  This massage consisted of her digging her elbows so deep into my shoulders that you would think her entire arm was enveloped by the folds of my muscles.  Dan Dan then made her way down to my ankels, and jammed her feminine fingers so deep under my Achilles tendons she could have worn them as bracelets.

    Toni: Dan Dan, for such a small person you have frightening strength.  Remind me never to get into a fight with you.

    Dan Dan: This will release old energy.

    When she finally took the needles out I felt amazing.  My back was in less pain, but maybe that was only in retrospect to what I had just experienced.  Then Dan Dan gave me these sticks of grass that I was to burn 1 inch away from where my ass had been speared – to help draw out stagnation and old blood.

    Toni: Should I get someone to do this for me?

    Dan Dan: Or you can use mirror.  But get flame very close.  So you feel burn.  So you almost can’t take it.  More pain, heal faster. The smoke will make old blood come out.

    I kind of felt like I would hurt my back all over again trying to maneuver these flames over my ass, so I of course called my friend and begged her to help me.

    Toni: Grace, I need you to come over and smoke my ass.

    Grace: Of course you do.


    February 10, 2014 • Adventures, Health, Mommy Body, Talking and Not Talking • Views: 9435

  • I Will Take Care of You

    Being sick/hurt, and a parent, pretty much sucks sweaty donkey balls.  Your kid just doesn’t get that you are out of commission, and don’t want to deal with their bullshit.  Maybe they try for a moment to be compassionate, but their memories are like goldfish and they quickly resort back to the self-centered selves.

    When I went to pick up The Munch yesterday my back was in so much pain I looked like Quasimodo.  I am on day 5 of these evil spasms, and even walking upright is a challenge.  It is like I am that monkey-man about 2 beings before Homo sapiens in the picture of evolution.  The one hunched over, with the spear, and hair on its back.

    Toni: Munch, Mamma’s back really hurts.  So I am having a really hard time, and I need you to be cool.

    Munch: Remember Mamma when I was sick and you took care of me?

    Toni: Yes I do.

    Munch: Well I am going to take care of you!

    Toni: That would be really nice Munch.

    Munch: Did you remember the iPad so I can watch it on the car ride?

    Toni: You know what Munch, I forgot. I am sorry.


    Toni: Dude, you are going to be fine, we can talk.


    Okay so you know how people always tell you to “take it easy” when you are hurt?  Yeah… so do you think leaving my kid on the side of the road would have qualified?

    The Munch complained the entire 20 minute ride home, while I tried to block out the sound of her whines by going to my “happy place” – a world where Munch is controlled by remote, and I can shut her the fuck off.

    Munch: Can I watch a movie at the house then?  I wanna watch the Care Bears okay Mamma?

    Toni: Dude, you are seriously out of your mind if you think you are watching anything right now.  You can’t complain the entire drive back, and then expect to get what you want.  There is no way.

    Munch: Please????

    Toni: Thank you for saying please, and asking nicely, but no.


    Okay… so I could have let her watch something so I could relax, but at the same time, she was being a total dick.  As a parent I really didn’t want to reinforce that behavior.  And if I let her watch shit, we would only fight about turning it off later.  She just had to go through it, even if her violent wails and complaints weren’t exactly “relaxing.”

    After The Munch finally let go of the watching Care Bears, she wanted to change her dress and find her ballet shoes.  Okay… but here was the problem. I didn’t know where her stupid ballet shoes were.


    Toni: Munch, when something is important to you, then you have to take care of it, and put it in a special place.  You can’t expect me to know where your stuff is.

    Munch: Well can you we look in the barn?

    Toni: Sure.

    Munch: Can you carry me to the barn?

    Toni: Dude, my back really is hurting.  I can’t carry you.  I need to eat something, and then you can put on your boots, and walk to the barn.


    Toni: Munch I am crazy hungry! Do I tell you that you can’t eat when you are hungry?

    Munch: Well can you carry me into the barn?

    Toni: Dude… I can’t.  My back remember? You have to wear your boots and walk.


    I kind of gave up on that battle, and carried her, and my food, across the icy tundra to the barn – where we still couldn’t find her son of a bitch ballet shoes.  There was almost another meltdown about that, but then The Munch found a ball, and wanted to play catch with me.  Yet the problem with playing catch with a 3 year old, is that their coordination sucks.  So she didn’t just toss the ball towards me in a causal controlled way, she pelted it at my head with alarming speed.  And I don’t know about you, but balls flying towards my face (even fleshy soft ones) tend to make me tense up and flinch.

    At this point my back was twisted like a pretzel, and I pretty much felt like I had done some permanent damage.

    Toni: Listen Munch, lets back in the house because I have to lie down.

    Munch: But my ballet shoes?

    Toni: Can you wear your gold shoes instead?

    Munch: Okay! I can twirl in those too!  Then you can pretend to be the little girl, and I will be the Mommy and take care of you!

    And then for the rest of the night she kind of did.  If you call jumping on the bed, telling stories, and feeding me peanuts taking care of someone.



  • The Craziest Massage Of All Time

    Munch and I went on an adventure to the big City, and while I was there, I hurt the shit out of my back.  I was so whiney about it, I decided that I had to get a massage.  But I couldn’t find any place near me, or near the place I had to be that had afternoon.  After about an hour of desperately searching, I finally found someone who would take me.

    Receptionist to Holistic Health Place (Julie): Hello?

    Toni: Hi, is there any chance that you have someone who could massage today?

    Julie:  Oh no, I am sorry, none of our masseuses are here today?

    Toni: Oh dear.  I am really really desperate.  I am dying.

    Julie: Well maybe I can have someone come in at 5?

    Toni: I just have this meeting at 4 where I am interviewing someone…. So I would need to be done by 3:30.

    Julie: I could maybe to 4…

    Toni: Well my meeting is at 4 so….

    Julie: How about 3:30?

    Toni: My meeting is still at 4 though?

    Julie: You know what darling.  If you can get here in an hour, we will figure something out.

    Toni: I am on my way.

    Maybe considering that Julie didn’t really have the same understanding of time as I did, I should have been slightly concerned… but at that point, I was so despairing I didn’t care.

    I hobbled into the Holistic Health Center, and Julie tells me that she couldn’t get a hold of any of the masseuses.

    Julie: But I am also a masseuse, so I will work on you today.  I just still have to do some things at the front desk as well, because I am still the receptionist.

    Toni: That is fine.  I am just so grateful to be here.

    Julie: Also, we don’t have a massage table today, because the masseuse usually brings her own table.  And I also don’t have a massage room.  So we only have the one back room that isn’t being used for our procedures.

    I decided to ignore my curiosity of what kind of “procedures” Julie could be referring to.

    Toni: That is okay.  Anything will do.

    Julie then brought me back to one of the back rooms, which I then realized was a colonic room, and that I was in fact, in a colonic center.  It then dawned on me that the leather table I was about to lay on, was a colonic table, and that the sound of rushing water I was hearing, was actually the sound of people’s impacted shit being processed.

    Julie: Is the sound of the water going to bother you?  We are just flushing out our septic system today.  It gets a little backed up considering our line of work.

    Toni: It is fine.

    Julie: We can just pretend it is the ocean.

    Toni: I will do just that.

    Julie: Sorry I don’t have a sheet for you to lay on, or to cover you up.  I hope the paper is okay.

    Toni: Totally cool.

    I get on the table, and the table is exactly as tall as I am.  So the top of my head was pressed against the wall, and my feet had to be tucked into the fold of the colonic table against the other wall.  To my right was wall, so the only way Julie could have access to that side of my body was by leaning over me so much so that my left hand kepis cupping her crotch.

    Julie: Sorry it is such a tight fit.

    Toni: That is fine.

    Julie started to massage me, but the walls were extremely thin, and I could hear the man in the next room having his colonic administered to.  Lucky for me, the grunts, groans, and primal noises of shit getting sucked out his ass were the soundtrack to my healing.

    Also…. because I was basically laying on leather with a bit of paper over it, I was not only was I freezing, but I also slipping all over the place the more she greased me up with CVS brand baby oil – and I think KY jelly.

    Knock. Knock.  Knock.

    Julie: Yes?

    Other Colonic Lady: Julie, there is someone who need to do a co-payment?

    Julie: Oh dear.  Listen honey, I will be right back okay?

    Then I was left with own thoughts, the chorus of colonics happening around me, and the visual of people getting their butts vacuumed out.

    Julie came back, but 15 minutes later had to leave again for another responsibility.  Then she would come back in for a bit, massage a part of me, leave again, come back and massage a totally different part of me, need to take a phone call, then massage a part of me she said she was already done with.  There was no rhyme or reason to where she was putting her hands, but at least when they were on me I was less freezing.

    At one point Julie straddled me to get the side of my back she couldn’t reach… and there was another moment where she pulled my paper sheet up from the bottom, exposing my legs and buttocks, in order to rub my shoulders.

    Because Julie kept leaving and coming back, she also kept promising me extra time.  So I ended up spending 3 ½ hours there, having to turn my neck from side to side as it cramped up from one lodged position to another.

    To end this marathon, Julie massaged my head  – but her hands were covered in oil, which she then subsequently rubbed off in my hair.  When I got to woman’s house I was interviewing, my hair was so greasy I looked like I spent my entire youth playing Dungeons and Dragons.  She kept looking at the top of my head and suppressing her gags.  I wanted to say “hey, I know it looks like I haven’t showered since the Reagan years, but I have.” Yet for some reason, I just didn’t say anything about it, and instead acted like it was totally normal to look like you spread Crisco on your hair for the sake of high fashion.

    (That is NOT water on my head??!!!)



  • How To Get Your Sexy Back After Baby


    The birth of a child can turn an active, carefree lady into a tired, worn out woman. Your wardrobe has even changed as you barely have the time to shower, much less primp.  And while your body may be physically ready for sex, you may be unprepared mentally and emotionally because of your new appearance.  Even if you don’t look exactly the way you did before you had your baby, all is not lost. You can regain the self-esteem and get your sexy back after giving birth.

    Being a parent requires all of your time and energy, which can quickly leave you feeling completely exhausted. This feeling of running on empty doesn’t bode well for your attitude, happiness, or sexual well-being. Therefore, it’s essential that you take some time for yourself. Take a step back as often as possible and put yourself first. Even if it’s just taking a 10-minute break, you must carve out some time at least once a week for yourself. Make sure to do something relaxing like taking a walk, doing some yoga, or reading a magazine, because soothing activities like these can help relieve the stress that often wreaks havoc on our bodies. It also helps to release some frustration, making you less likely to be tense and uptight when you’re engaged in sex.

    According to EveryDayFamily, being in touch with your sexuality plays a major part in how you feel about your physical appearance. Therefore, it’s important that you get in tune with your sexual self. Whether this means engaging in those sexy activities with your partner or doing it on your own, you must devote time exploring what turns you on. If you’re feeling way too uncomfortable or lack the confidence to even partake in a little sexual discovery, start off slowly and employ a bit of humor. For instance, skip the usual dinner-and-a-movie date night and play a risqué adult board game with your mate to get things flowing. Adam & Eve notes that these games, which range from strip poker to sex-themed dice, are a great way to get foreplay started. They’re flirty and fun without being overly aggressive about the whole thing, which will allow you to ease more naturally into sex with a post-baby body.

    No matter how you look after pregnancy, it’s crucial that you feel as good about yourself as you did before you had your baby. So take a moment, step back, and examine how you can regain your confidence and feel good about your physical appearance again.


    January 31, 2014 • Mommy Body, Mommy Mind • Views: 1132