BLOW JOB DAY!

Mom Gone Mad

December 26, 2007 by Queen of Spain 36 Comments

So I’m having it out with Dad Gone Mad. I can do that, he’s my friend. So don’t be getting any ideas that we hate each other or something. We’re friends that can agree to disagree and go back and forth and get nasty but still respect each other.

He’s being a big girl and wants Nickelodeon to take Zoey 101 off the air. He’s also against them airing any sort of special on teen pregnancy. Why? I’ll let him tell you:

“There was a report by the Associate Press yesterday that announced Nickelodeon was considering a special program on its air about teen pregnancy. I nearly puked.

Fact: teen pregnancy is real.

Fact: kids need to know what this girl did was stupid, irresponsible, and ruinous.

Fiction: that message should be delivered on a television show.

I went to a state university. I’ve had a mental illness. But this is what I want.

I want Nickelodeon – a channel that markets itself toward children to take a fucking stand.

I want them to announce that they have canceled this show, and I want them to say they did so because their audience is children and Ms. Spears’ behavior does not reflect the image they want those children to see.

I want them to say that parents who wish to speak to their children about this issue can log onto a website where they can find resources and strategies written by professionals.

In my view, that would be the decent thing to do.

I do NOT want this girl to be lambasted, nor do I want to see her mother publicly humiliated. Her daughter is not the only pregnant teenager in America.”

Danny, Danny, Danny. This makes me want to kick you in the nads. Why? Let’s read Erin’s comment in Danny’s post:

“Alright I realize we’ve been around and around on this already..but here goes anyway:

You’re all fucking crazy. Stick your heads in the sand some more and shun 16 year olds for irresponsible sex. Oh, wait…it’s the 16 year old GIRL we’re shunning. Nice message asshats.

So you’re fine with Bratz commercials because HEY, that’s just subliminal. Yet when they offer to tackle the subject with discretion and age appropriateness you get all up in arms? What the hell? If the sex is there already, subliminal or otherwise, why are you letting them watch Nick NOW?

And what, exactly, is a 6-year old doing watching that anyway? I mean…last I checked her character wasn’t knocked up and talking about this. And if Nick addresses it, turn it the hell off if you don’t want them to see it.

I applaud Nick for at least trying here. Will they get it right? I have no idea. And as a parent it’s your duty to prescreen or shut it off if you don’t like it. Do I think they should air or not air a special? I’m not sure. Depends on how, when, etc. Again, at least they are *thinking* about how to deal with it. You just want it swept under the rug instead of having a *gasp* talk with your kids. Be a parent, teach them things in an age appropriate manner or don’t let them watch tv or go outside or see the world, period.

Your job is to guide and protect, and the last I checked sex wasn’t something anyone needed protection from, just education ON. It’s not evil and it’s not bad and it’s not WRONG.

BTW, you can’t fire a woman for being pregnant, it’s against the law.

My kids are 4.5 and 2.5 and there is no mystery about babies or sex and they are STILL KIDS.
You people need to get the stick out of your asses.”

Furthermore: Let your preschooler and or elementary schooler watch High School Musical or Zoey 101 or some other teen/tween show and you get what you ask for. You get Bratz commercials and innuendo. You get the possibility they will pick up on something YOU are not ready to address. This is YOUR fault. Not Jamie Lynn Spears OR Nickelodeon.

Treat sex like some ticking time bomb and it will be just that in your house. Some unspoken, totally mysterious, ticking time bomb. My preschoolers ask and get answers. “Yes, Mommy’s have babies in their bellies, yes, a man helped make the baby with his penis.” Not totally scientific but also not crazy inappropriate for their age.

…and ANOTHER thing. Zoey 101 is done. It’s over. It’s been filmed. JLS isn’t acting on it pregnant. She’s not pregnant in the story line. She’s not even talking about being pregnant. She’s pregnant in real life. She’s not filming pregnant. She’s not flaunting her teenage mistake in front of your 6-year old who shouldn’t be watching that freaking show anyway. On the show she’s the same character addressing the same issues as she always did. And what about re-runs? Or those now invalid because the star got in trouble OFF screen?

Just curious, did you pull HSM from the DVD bin when what’s her name’s naked pics came out?

I’m thinking of voices in animated cartoons I watch…man, some of those actors really fuck themselves up off camera. Alex the Lion? (Ben Stiller) Dori?(Ellen) Lightening McQueen? (Luke Owen Wilson) I mean just right there you’ll need to talk about dirty jokes, lesbianism, and suicide with your kids. And that’s just off the top of my head.

I think your anger is displaced and you need to get over sex issues and discuss things with your children if and when they ask. Don’t be afraid. It’s going to be oooookkkkkk.

Nickelodeon doesn’t need to send any messages. To anyone. They are not responsible for your kids. They make tv shows for children and tweens and teens. If you don’t like what they make, turn off your goddamn television.

But Danny knows I love him. And hot wife. And wonder sis. And I’m guessing he’s going to email me and yell at me in about 5…4….3…2…. but hopefully I made him think, just a little.

Filed Under: BLOW JOB DAY!, Holding Court, Royal Rant

…wondering if I’d be arrested in Wisconsin

November 13, 2007 by Queen of Spain 16 Comments

Theoretically when my children can read, they could easily find my blogs. There are times I don’t close my laptop, there are times I am on the phone saying things like “Queen of Spain” and “Queen’s Bedroom.” My big mouth can be found, easily, all over the web.

I’ve been asked many times what I will say when they see what I’ve written. I’ve talked about them right along with talking about blow jobs. Will they be scarred? Will they feel used? Will they report me to authorities?

There is a story out of Wisconsin about a mom who got graphic with her kids while talking about sex. I have no idea if this woman is a lunatic and did things that would even make me blush. What I do know is this court case sets one hell of a precedent for those of us who speak frankly to our children.

“According to the charges filed against her, Smalley last year told her sons about several sexual experiences she had. She also allegedly described performing oral sex and also showed the two a sex toy.”

I suppose if I were not blogging these things, I’d be talking about them. Outloud. To friends. To family. To anyone who would listen. This is life. I don’t hide. I would tell stories of my life to a room full of friends and talk about sex to a gaggle of girlfriends. It’s who I am. Anyone who knows me will tell you the way I write is the way I talk. So when it comes to discussing sex with my kids…do you think I’ll censor?

I am a firm believer in answering honestly. If my daughter asks me what I do in bed…how I do it…will I answer her if I think I will get PUT IN JAIL? I’m guessing I’ll be in prison before my kids turn 17 if that is the case. Of course I will make every attempt to be truthful yet age appropriate, but I can’t imagine I will hold back much.

How far would I go? How graphic would I get? I would like to think I could describe oral sex, something that got the mother in question in trouble. Show my children a vibrator as part of one of my speeches? Why on earth wouldn’t I if they asked? Are children capable of understanding and hearing these things in the media and public NOT allowed to know what they are, what they look like, what they do????

“Why yes, this is what they look like…it can be used for masturbation, which is perfectly normal and healthy when done in private.” is exactly what I would say.

My children will be totally freaked out and embarrassed by me for about one million reasons. I can think of many worse things I will do, correction, have done, than educate them about sex.

I’ve noticed many people arguing the only way to look at this situation is to imagine it was a father talking to daughters. Accusations of “pervert” and “pedophile” would fly, they say. I just hope when my kids’ father sits down and has one of many discussions with them about the birds and the bees, he doesn’t feel censored because he’s afraid of being imprisoned.

Again, by all news accounts I am not sure what sort of conversation this mother had with her sons, but let’s say she was graphic as hell…maybe she told them she likes it on top. Maybe she told them what she does to please a man. Maybe she was totally inappropriate. She was charged with a felony,

“In the agreement, Smalley pleaded no contest to a misdemeanor charge of exposing a child to harmful material in exchange for the dismissal of a felony charge of exposing a child to harmful descriptions.”

I’d like to know exactly what constitutes “harmful material” and “harmful descriptions” and who gets to decide. I’m assuming this information coming from a parent is also taken into account? Maybe not?

I think I’m just going to start planning for my incarceration. Years from now when my kids are older, they’ll be surfing the net and come across mommy’s blogs. I’ll, of course, answer any questions they have…and then apparently get myself a lawyer.

Filed Under: BLOW JOB DAY!, Holding Court

Introducing: The Queen’s Bedroom

October 26, 2007 by Queen of Spain 2 Comments

Let’s face it, we became parents by having sex* and sex is usually somewhere on our minds. It’s time to be more open about “doing it” and communicate our issues with sex and all it encompasses. I want to empower women to embrace who they are as sexual beings. I want to talk about all the issues we never speak, but want to get out.

With that in mind I’ve created, with some awesome help, Queen’s Bedroom. Where you can come to talk about all those things you can’t even discuss with your best friend. Where you can come to tell your husband where to find your g-spot…where you can admit you want a threesome or admit your sex drive is gone since having kids.

Come. Sit on my bed. Giggle. Play. Don’t be afraid.

*and yes, those who adopt do it too 🙂

Filed Under: BLOW JOB DAY!, Feeling YaYa, Royal Sexlife

The Post My MOTHER Can NOT Read (part one)

October 17, 2007 by Queen of Spain 49 Comments

Or her friends. Or the rest of my family. So go away.

Ok, is it just US now? Good.

Ladies,

I love you. I love you all in ways I can’t even describe. I think you are all amazing and smart and beautiful and blah blah blah blah.

Here is the deal. I KNOW you’ve heard the rumors. Don’t act all coy, there has been talk and I am now here to set you all straight:

I’ve been talking with your husbands.

Don’t freak out, but for some reason they all seem to come to me to chat. I’m like that naughty big sister they can ask their really embarrassing questions too and I’ll give them honest answers. I have no idea how I gained the “Let’s ask Queen” status, I’m guessing it’s the flashing of my tits, but whatever it is they seem to find the courage to talk with me about things they are totally and utterly afraid to discuss with you. I’m picturing them all in a huddle, muttering together, and pushing ONE to the front to ask me something…you? Anyway…

Don’t be mad. They’d rather talk to you, trust me. They would also rather NOT talk to me…but really want to get some things off their chests and do their best to figure you women out. This is their little way of doing something for you. No. Really. I know its hard to believe, but they come to me because they want to be closer to you. They want to get inside your head. Woo you. Romance you.
Ok, that’s all bullshit.

Really, they want you to swallow, and somewhere along the lines I became Queen of Blow Jobs and now they all flock to me to try and find a way to get YOU to take their cocks deep into your throat and let them go crazy.

Everyone just take a deep breathe there. I know that last sentence was difficult. It’s ok. Stay with me…breathe…

Let’s talk basics. If you are a partner who gives your man the occasional or frequent oral pleasure we need to discuss how you “finish.” We also need to discuss this epidemic of you jacking him off and licking his tip and calling it a “blow job” but we’ll save that for another post. Sure we all have our fetishes and our own “way” of doing things. No one should ever do anything they don’t want to do and no one should do something that doesn’t bring them pleasure…but let’s get real here…the experience of oral is also the ending…sucking and licking only to end with your hand is a let down. I know. I know. Sad, but true.

The men though, they have let me in on a little secret. “Swallow” is the term most used, but I have it on good authority so long as it ends in your mouth you don’t actually need to GULP…it’s the location more than anything. The consistency, as it were. Takes it up to 11, if you know what I mean. Now personally I don’t have any issues with swallowing (you are all shocked I know) but some of you may have some gag issues and some ICK factor going on. Normal. Totally normal. Not your thing. I get it…but can I ask…and don’t kill me here…not your thing because you’ve tried and just think its gross or not your thing because just the thought seems disgusting? I’m just asking…because, you know, we say to the kids all the time “as least try it first…”

Ok, ok, how about some practical ways to tackle this: Might I offer the advice of trying different angles? Not straight on…but with him on his side and you sliding down on your side? Or him OVER you in a 69 so you get some fun too, which might make you forget about the whole gag/gross thing? You’d be amazed what you suddenly can do, or not mind doing, while he’s making you moan…

Try it.

Now you might be saying to me right now..”he’s just lucky he’s getting ANY,” and yes…this is true. These husbands and boyfriends and partners should NOT be picky about the quality…or should they?

I mean, I know as well as you do that when I want something I expect my partner get to it and do it RIGHT. I’m rather demanding that way, and not just when it comes to sex. Of course there may not be a right or wrong way to get someone off, but I’ll be damned if a whole lot of your husbands would like to see a bit more “effort” on your part.

Yes, I’m tired too..and yes, they are selfish bastards…but if we’re going to go through with getting them snoring in 2.4 minutes then let’s do it with some GUSTO! Enough of my cheerleading and rah rah blow your husbands…let’s get back to what they say…

…after “swallow” on their list of fun stuff..are you ready to hear what else they want? Do you care? Because there is more…and I feel it’s my duty to tell you all, because their whining is getting overwhelming and I finally need to just break down and talk about it.

If it makes you feel any better I make them “listen” and “help” you in return. Don’t worry, I’m representing for you too. Those flowers you got last week? All me. That new little nighty? Yea, me too. He might have even offered to take the kids while you got an uninterrupted bubble bath, thank me later.

We can get more practical “technique” or I can dish more on what they tell me they like and want..or both, your call. Either way I’m here and I’m ready to spill.

Oh, you can breathe again…go ahead, I’m done now.

Filed Under: BLOW JOB DAY!

Third Base Ain’t What It Used To Be

October 6, 2007 by Queen of Spain 14 Comments

There are things in my sexual history I remember vividly. From rubbing on stuffed toys to masturbate to giving birth to two children. From seeing a boy orgasm for the first time, to learning about anal plugs and male sleeves.

I was lucky. Anything my older cousin told me about sex wasn’t locked away in my brain and repeated as truth. I knew better. I knew better because a very long time ago a rebellious woman who taught our school district’s sex education class pulled a group of us girls OFF school property and told us the REAL deal on sex. Not the watered down, censored version of what the government and your parents and priests agreed you could know. Not the fuzzy “don’t have sex until marriage and we’re not allowed to tell you about condoms so don’t ask” discussion one Wednesday afternoon in the gymnasium. No. Mrs. D. wasn’t having any of it.

I remember sitting at my desk, separated from the boys, while she began her very boring, very generic speech on how I may bleed from my crotch and I’ll need to know what a pad looks like. How my boobs will grow and I”ll get hair in places I didn’t realize hair grew. How one day, when I was really in love, married, and wanted to make a baby, a boy would be involved and something that looked like a tadpole would swim up me and pierce an egg.

It was all very vague.

All the girls in the class knew it. Mrs. D. knew it. But we sat there and listened anyway. We all KNEW there was stuff missing from this “talk”-but we girls were too shy to ask and then probably be branded a “slut” and Mrs. D. was forbidden by the law to tell us much more.

Then something happened. I’m not sure if she could see the confusion in our eyes or if she was just sick and tired of the restrictions placed upon her…but she stopped.

She stopped her lecture right in the middle of showing us our fallopian tubes, set down her pointer stick, and sighed.

She walked in front of the desk and leaned on a student’s desk in the front row.

“I’m not going to bullshit you girls. If you want to know the REAL deal with sex, and all the things you NEED to know, meet me across the street by the dumpsters after the bell rings.”

Then she casually walked back to the chalk board, picked up her pointer, and finished her very boring lecture on my innards.

Of course a giggling pack of us tentatively walked across the street when the bell rang. There was Mrs. D. waiting. She opened her purse and showed us a condom, she let us touch it and practice putting it on a banana. She told us about birth control pills, she told us about sexually transmitted diseases. She told us about abortion. She told us about adoption. She also told us if any of us girls needed any of these things, here was her home number and she’d be happy to help us. Then she closed up her purse, and walked back across the street to the school.

It took me many years to realize how brave Mrs. D. was that day. She retired from teaching that very year. I have no idea if parents found out. If the school found out. If she ever got in any trouble.

When I was in high school, I remember hearing she had passed away. I wondered how many girls she saved from teenage pregnancy by breaking the rules. How many girls she bought birth control pills for. How many girls she counseled after a boy violated her young body.

I was lucky.

Mrs. D. was truth in a world of lies and whispers and hushed conversations between adults. She told us the truth, and I swore I would do the same for my children.

Not long ago, Suzanne over at CUSS sent me an email about a new book coming out, and recommended I take a look see.The author, Logan Levkoff, sent me an advanced copy of “Third Base Ain’t What it Used to Be,” and I dove in before I could throw the box away.

Please let this be a real way to talk to your kids about sex. Please let this not be the watered down, glossed over version of public school sex ed.

I wasn’t disappointed. Third Base Ain’t What It Used To Be is a practical parent’s guide to talking to your children about sex. From making sure you use REAL words with your small children (like PENIS and VAGINA-not wee-wee and whoo-ha) to talking to your teens about blow jobs and flavored condoms. Yes, you need to talk to your teens about blow jobs, because guess what…they are getting them and giving them.

Logan gives you ways to approach the subject with your kids without freaking them (or yourself) out and teaches you how to keep the dialog open and honest. She doesn’t push her views on you, there is room for you to, of course, teach your children your beliefs…but she also doesn’t bullshit. She gives you the stats on abstinence only programs and why they suck. Why its important your teenage daughter knows how to put a condom on a penis. Why your son needs to buy his own rubbers. Why you should encourage masturbation. And maybe most importantly, why you need to get over your own sexual hang ups and talk honestly with your kids about all things sexual.

One of the parts of the book I loved, in particular, was discussing ENJOYING sex with your daughters. Yes, letting a girl know and understand from a young age that sex is not a chore. Sex is not a duty. Sex is something she can ENJOY.

WOW, what a concept. A generation of girls knowledgeable, educated with more than “vague concepts,” and prepared to be sexual when they are ready and capable of enjoyment. Not because it’s what is expected at this point in the relationship. Not to keep a boy. Not to do what all the other girls are doing. Not to see what all the fuss is about, but because she wants to. Because she knows how to have an orgasm and can expect her lover to give her one, or teach him how. She knows how to protect herself from STD’s and pregnancy.

Holy empowerment batman.

Logan also talks about teaching our sons respect, responsibility, and knowing their role in pleasing a woman.

But maybe most importantly, the entire book discusses how YOU, as the PARENT, need to be your child’s MAIN SOURCE for all things sex. Did you squirm in your chair a little? Ya-you are no longer absolved by way of some 7th grade health class. Nope. You get to be Jr.’s sex educator, and let’s face it…you should be. From their little, toddler, rubbing on stuffed animal years to their “ohmygawdpleasedon’tknockupyourgirlfriendinhighschool” days. YOU get to be their guide.

So if you are a bit out of touch with the current lingo for going down on a girl or blow job parties (uh-huh-they have them) pick up Logan’s book. She can help.

You might even learn a few things.

Filed Under: BLOW JOB DAY!, Queenie Backup, Royal Sexlife, Royal Vagina

How Desperate is YOUR innerHousewife?

April 2, 2007 by Queen of Spain 34 Comments

The Kaiser and I are freaks. Anyone who knows us, knows we’re not normal, average, or otherwise. Yes, I’m talking sexually, so all family can close this page right now…it’s going to get very graphic.

Ahem…

I’m curious, though. I have this feeling we’re not the only freaks around. My neighbors have yet to come over for a cup of sugar and a blow job, but you get my meaning here. I want to know about your sexlife. Come on, you know this is a safe place. No one will know if you leave me a comment. I just need to know that the Kaiser and I are not the only ones out there.
Let me be more specific: We’re not going to donkey shows in Tijuana or anything…but lately we’re talking threesomes and one night stands and anything and everything under the sun. Whatever turns us both on, and whatever we are both comfortable with. And yeah, we’re comfortable with A LOT.
Ok, stop judging me right now. We’re having fun. Remember fun? When sex was more than something you did once a week if you weren’t tired from the laundry and dishes and carpool trips. When sex was more than…how quick can we undress and do it before a child screams because the DVD is skipping downstairs. When sex was exciting and heart-pounding and really, really hot.

We’re older, we’re more responsible, and we’re not afraid to experiment. The kids are older, capable of sleeping all night, and babysitters can sure as hell come over so we can go out. Sure I’ve no longer got the body of a 19-year old. And I have no doubt my stretch marks are just SUCH a freaking turn on…but at least I’m putting it out there.

Go give your man a blow job. Ask him what he thinks about you bringing home another girl…maybe even use one of those stupid princess tutu’s we all have in the toy chest to tie him to your bed. Go find a DVD that you KNOW does not skip…or call a babysitter. Hell, call a babysitter and go fuck in the back of your minivan.

If you are REALLY feeling it, take a lover. How hot is your mailman?

You know you want too.

Then come back and tell me-because I KNOW we’re not alone.

Filed Under: BLOW JOB DAY!, Royal Sexlife

Xmas Swag

December 25, 2006 by Queen of Spain 7 Comments

I love it when my man listens.

…and then I made the mistake of asking my dear, wonderful, superb gift-giving husband if he had any gifts to show the blogosphere:

And yeah, the kids got some crap too. Too much. Including that fucking Elmo I swore I wouldn’t buy.

All of that said, I’m not sure there is anything better than watching your own children wake up on Christmas morning and react to Santa’s bounty. Seriously. NOTHING. BETTER.

MERRY HOLIDAYS AND A HAPPY HO HO!

Filed Under: BLOW JOB DAY!, Men and their duckcamps, Merry Merry

GBJD

June 19, 2006 by Queen of Spain 25 Comments

I vote we all start calling Father’s Day what it really is: Guaranteed Blow Job Day.

Don’t act all coy. Or shocked. You know you either got one or gave one. It’s just some unwritten rule. Father’s Day. Birthday. Way to Get a Raise Day-Equals guaranteed Blow Job.

There are rules to the guaranteed blow job. You must initiate. You must think of it as ALL about him, expecting nothing in return. And you only get to take off your pants too if he makes it clear this isn’t a one-way encounter.

So while your husband ate his kid-made toast and opened up another popsicle stick birdhouse (or in our case a homemade stool and beer coolies) he knew, that you knew, that he knew, that you knew that he was getting a BJ later.

Who started this and why isn’t there a female equivalent? I mean, I know there is a female equivalent, but what I’m saying is…is there a guaranteed —fill in the blank—Day for wives?

On your birthday, do you know there is something you will get? More than 10 minutes to shower without a screaming child outside the door? Sleeping in? Meals cooked that you don’t have to clean up? While I can say those things happen on Mother’s Day or my birthday…I can’t say they are guaranteed.

Before you start yelling about me about how I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do, let me stop you. I want to give him a blow job. It’s his special day and I know it’s what he wants. Trust me, he wants that more than a tie. Maybe less than a new iPod, but more than a tie. But maybe more than an iPod. Anyway, I don’t see it as my “duty” or anything. I enjoy making him happy. I enjoy giving him what he wants. But when did it go from unexpected to a maybe, to a “yeah, it’s Father’s Day, it’s totally going to happen”?

AND, at what point in our marriages did we all just realize this was the way it went? Because let’s face it…you can laugh and shake your head at me all you want-But I know, that you know, that I know, that you know, that I know you did it too.