Go Big or Go Home

I was recently told a very sad tale about a woman who has been married for twenty years who has never had an orgasm with her husband.  I want his man card, because he doesn’t deserve it. Then I want her woman card.  How the hell do you let this go on for twenty god forsaken years?



We’ve all had bad sex.  It happens.  It’s not even a real crisis, but twenty years?  That’s my oldest child’s entire life span.  (I began having children in the first grade.  We’re not aging on this side of the room.)  So, for twenty years, this woman has been the toilet…. He’s just doing his business on her.  It is NEVER a good thing when Miss Shannon is quoting The Color Purple.

the color purple

I am totally emotionally involved in this.  Girls, we had a sexual revolution in the sixties.  Please, for the love of all that is holy, do NOT start burning your bras.  You matter, too.  Demand a little attention.  I don’t even know what exactly the trouble is…. and I don’t give two shits.  Go forth, young lady, read Fifty Shades of Gray or some other soft porn and develop some ideas.  Hit an Athena party and buy something buzzy.  Or a nice little cream.

athenawhore boots2

Hie yourself to the nearest biker bar… those boys know how to ride.  Or have an honest discussion with your guy…. He probably wants to please you, assuming he’s not an asshat.  Most men are selfish lovers… it’s just part of who they are.  You need to teach them how to please you and why it fucking matters.


A very wise woman said these words to me, “You have the vagina.  That means you have all the power!  Do I have to teach you everything????”  And she is right.  Embrace your inner diva.  All women are beautiful… not all of them know how to make the most of that beauty.  Please know that natural beauty is for rocks and trees.  You are a woman, and the Goddess has given us Este Lauder and Clinique.  Go buy some sexy underwear, a lipstick and some whore boots.  Demand that you receive your due…. And an orgasm is on that list, ladies.


You have your shopping list.  Prioritize yourself.  Now, you lady….go forth.  Go big or go home.







So I signed up for a dating site. I’m not desperately seeking a significant other…. But I definitely enjoy the dating process and it’s an easy way to get to know new people. I live in a little fishbowl town and I don’t date townies. These people all know each other.


So the nice thing is that I get told I look like Ally Sheedy because of this picture, taken by my ex-husband. He’s a good photographer and he makes pretty babies. Thanks, dude! I do not look like Ally Sheedy at any other point in my life, but there are worse celebrities to be compared to.

ally sheedy

There are less fabulous aspects, however. Like the guy who literally demands personal, identifying information in the first 4 seconds I’m talking to him. Ummm…. Hey, why don’t I just tell you exactly the easiest way to break into my house and kill me while I sleep? I’m a single mom, moron. I live alone with a bunch of little kids. Let’s talk about Karen* (names have been changed to protect the unfortunate.) Karen is trusting. Karen spent three days locked in some wackadoo’s basement being assaulted. This is a person I know. That’s scary shit.


Fact is, if I want to date you, you are bigger than me. Ideally significantly bigger. This serves multiple purposes primarily that it makes me feel skinny, which is critical and it is way easier to rearrange furniture that way. It logically follows that you can probably overpower me. This has occurred on multiple occasions in my lifetime. Therefore, I need to be careful where and how I meet you. In fact, I find that if a man and I are mutually attracted to one another, there is at least a 70% chance that he is going to want to beat me up and steal my paycheck or lay on my couch for the rest of his life. It’s a nice couch.

When I am saying things like, locally…. Public place… coffee not drinks…. It’s because I still have three living brain cells and you have not yet convinced me that you aren’t a serial killer. Because, yeah, I’m lucky like that. Other helpful hints… don’t ask me to buy you stuff. Really? And I don’t actually owe you an explanation.


Also…for the wary…. I don’t share info about the dating game unless it’s especially egregious. Like Seven Hand Stan. Or the nutcake who wants me to shop for him. Please know….I absolutely want to be taken care of, but I don’t want your money. I want you to want to make my life better. Maybe by producing dinner (this can be ordering pizza without my help, I’m not picky) or hey, fix a broken thing for me. I have plenty.



Slut Shaming…. shame on you

Slut Shaming is the practice of making someone (usually a woman or a transgender person) feel inferior or shamed over their sex life, real or perceived. Basically, this is a basic scenario…. If a man and woman have casual sex, he’s a stud, she’s a slut. Whore. Skank. On and on. I’m writing about this today because a gentleman on my Facebook feed is having some sort of relational difficulties with a love interest who is apparently not as lily white as he’d like her to be, so she’s a fuckin’ whore. Charming.

sluts and studs

This is why when I am asked how many sexual partners I’ve had, my answer is not many. First, it’s none of your business, second no matter what I say, the asker will sit in judgment on my choices. If I had an outie instead of an innie, this would not be the case. Instead, I would be encouraged to put notches in my bedpost.


Maybe I want notches in my lipstick case. pat benetar

This is part of the rape culture we live in. We teach our daughters to avoid rape by wearing modest clothing, not getting drunk, avoiding dark alleyways and exercising caution. What we don’t really do is teach our sons that no means no, that a woman has the right to wear anything she chooses and it does not take away her right to decide what happens to her body. One in four women are raped. Only 3% of rapists ever serve any time.

rape stats

Fact is, no one has the right to dictate sexual rules to another person. This I’m a prude when I say no, a slut when I say yes business is garbage. Humans, like other mammals, are sexual beings. That does not put a woman under any obligation to adhere to your standards of sexual propriety. If it’s ok for a man….guess what? It is also ok for a woman.

I dated a guy who had a problem with my shoes. They were whore shoes…. All but the Timberlands and the sneakers. I mentioned that he liked them when we were dating and he actually said, “But it’s different if you are going to marry it.” I was it. I don’t enormously wish to be it. Personally, I think most people are too wrapped up in what people think of them. But I don’t want to be it. The fifties are calling and they’d like their morals back. Please join us in this century.



Paint me a Birmingham….

Today, I’m thinking about romance novels. Why do we read them? Are they a worthwhile effort? When we think of romances, we think bodice rippers with hot guys and chicks with impossibly small waists on the cover. Impractical, idealistic, unattainable, etc….

Those negative words are true. They’re also false. We’re talking fiction, people, nobody wants to read about the notice from the electric company or your bunions. Romance novels are fairy tales for adults…. You know it’s unrealistic, and you know that the really hot guy is not also intelligent, sensitive and good in bed. Take the hit, girls, it’s there and you know it.

Enjoy this picture of candles and roses:

candles and roses

Good fiction gives you the urge to suspend disbelief. I have favorites…. Nora Roberts, Jude Deveraux, Judith McNaught and Johanna Lindsey. These ladies have it going on…. Funny, heartwarming, entertaining and they give me a desire to suspend disbelief. My disbelief is in the idea that true love conquers all… At least romantic love. However…hope springs eternal. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t get a warm fuzzy from these novels. Yes…. it’s idealized, but it’s beautiful.

If you lose your shoes at midnight, you’re drunk. I stopped looking for prince charming years ago and began looking for Peter, Peter the Pumpkin Eater. In my everyday life, I am the biggest sceptic…. Men have taught me to be wary. The idea of a white knight is sexy. This is the only type of white knight that actually exists.

white night

Romance novels give us hope. They make us remember when we weren’t jaded, when we believed in happily ever after. That’s not a bad thing. Some people actually do get happily ever after. I’ve seen it. I’m living it…. It just doesn’t look like I thought it would. Because my happily ever after turned out to be freedom and autonomy. It does NOT include an empty bed… There’s a really cute kid and a couple of critters snoozing with me.
So, ladies…. Paint me a Birmingham. Make it look just the way I planned…. A little house on the edge of town…. Porch running all the way around…. Son, just where in this picture you would you like to be????? If there’s anyway that you can…. Can you paint me back into her arms again??????????????


In conclusion…. I conclude. Thank you, Mr. Jacobs. In all seriousness, romance is beautiful because it’s about the newness. Newness rocks. If your newness does not rock out loud, run for your life…. It isn’t going to get better.

Jude Deveraux official author website

Tracy Byrd… Paint me a Birmingham

Miss Shannon does not like infidelity.

Sooooo…. I went out on Halloween. I had far too much to drink and had to lecture a big, fat jerk on the sanctity of his marriage vows. After coming on hard and heavy for hours…. This guy told me he had been married to his soul mate for the last 19 years.

Honey, I am so sorry. For flirting with your husband, particularly since you were in the room. That your husband placed us both in an abominable position. That I know you suffer, because I have been in your shoes. Because I know you love the rat bastard anyway, and I have every faith that you deserve so much more.

Please know that I cared. I do not go out with men in relationships because I think it’s trashy. My stupid self usually has this wild idea that a man that is coming on hot and heavy does not have his wife in the room. I will never be the piece of trash riding ‘round in his pickup truck.

This is my sister and I on Halloween:
slutty halloween

Credit Ashton Shepard

It is what it is.

Rule number one in Shannon’s Handbook for Success is to be a decent human being. Goodness knows I’m not always successful. After careful consideration, I committed myself to certain causes and try to do the right thing all the time. This is wearing at times, for your edification.

Let me state, for the record, that I am straight. I only like to have sex with men, which is a general description of heterosexuality. I support gay rights because I’m not an asshole. Largely because I am secure in my own sexuality, it doesn’t faze me in the slightest to post about gay rights, march in parades or wear rainbows. My favorite cousin is a lesbian…. This was as true when we were six as it is today. To my discredit, I use her and her wife as a sorting tool for men I date. If you cannot embrace these two wonderful women, you need not be a part of my life. When you persecute LGBT people, this is what you are actually supporting:

This is my cousin Debbie and her gorgeous wife, Laqueta. Please let me know how they are harming you. I don’t know why her nose is blue.

deb snd quet

I support battered women because I was one. The primary monster in my bed was one scary SOB…. It’s been almost twenty years and I still have the occasional nightmare. Lately, my girlfriend (who has been a battered woman for a good long time) has been needing some support. I am providing that support where and when I can for several reasons. First, there was never anyone to fall back on when I was being battered. There are few things more alarming the absolute knowledge that you can’t go home. Next, back in the day, I promised myself that I would make myself available if I could help another woman. I couldn’t save myself or my children back then. But I can help the woman in front of me, right now, today…. I believe it honors the lives of the children I lost to my batterer’s fists.

One thing that always shocks the hell out of me is the family’s unwillingness to assist. Where there’s life, there’s hope. I know she keeps going back…. It takes the average woman SEVEN attempts to successfully leave their abuser. Again, average. That means it took some a whole lot more. If you aren’t there to pick up the fucking pieces, who will be???? Balls to the wall, people. Think back to when she was two…. What would you have done for her then?


I have free fallen many, many times. Typically, this occurs with three to five kids in tow and no parachute. I land on my feet because I have to. If I fall, there is no one to save me. This fact has made me strong and a little bitter. Life is hard. Stand up. Step up for your loved ones…instead of demanding they dance to your tune and follow your path. Be kind, always. It usually costs very little. Enjoy this cute puppy wuppy picture….

cute puppies


How on Earth Did I Get So Jaded….Life’s mysteries seem so faded

My sister and I went shopping the other day for Halloween. Got a little of this and a little of that, a shopping victory for all. She was plugging the very nice gentleman I’ve been texting with because she is very happily married and thinks everyone should be. This is a picture of us when we were little.


One major difference between me and my sister is our feelings about romance. She’s a go get ‘em kind of girl, thinks that everyone has a soul mate and that happily ever after is your destination if you will just be open to it. She tried to claim that it’s because of her hubby, who is truly fabulous, but it isn’t. She has always had stars in her eyes and a basic ability (and willingness) to suspend disbelief, very necessary in all fictional endeavors. This is a picture of Mary and AJ.

mary and aj

Me…. I don’t totally believe in romantic love. I like chick flicks as much as the next girl, I’ve enjoyed every proposal I’ve ever received and I absolutely adore it when a man holds the door for me. I just don’t believe in destiny. I think there are any number of people on this very large Earth that I could be compatible with. This is the Earth.


Being in a romantic relationship requires compromise. That can be wonderful…. You have experiences you might not otherwise, learn things about yourself, etc. For example, I damn near married a man who was happily decimating my life. At his insistence, I learned to shoot. I really enjoy it. Had I not been willing to give in to his desire to share a part of his life I had little to no interest in, I would never have discovered a hobby I truly enjoy. On the flip side, I spent a lot of hours trapped places I didn’t want to be with people whose company I didn’t enjoy. At the end of the day. The good has to outweigh the bad.
I truly love to see people happily in love. I always hope that they are just as happy in forty years. You have to be self-sacrificing to make that happen. I kind of don’t want to do that. I like myself when I’m single. I lose something inside of a relationship…. I call it me. But the end of the day, I find it easier to walk away than to fight for equality in a relationship.

That same sister likes to tell me that I’m a good catch and sooner or later, someone is going to catch me. I tell her to stop threatening me. I’m a butterfly… and butterflies are free to fly…. Fly away, high away…. (I believe this so strongly that I tattooed it on myself)

butterfly tttoo

So, gentleman callers, word to the wise. Trying to get my sister (who I love, who wants me to hitch myself eternally to the nearest penis because she truly believes it’ll make me happy) to champion your cause is counterproductive. It makes me run like a hellhound is on my heels. This is a hellhound.


Soul Asylum – Runaway Train
Elton John – Someone Saved My Life Tonight

Why do I blog??? Why don’t you?

Recently, someone asked me why I am writing this blog. Apparently, my desire to share my sparkling wit and insane exchanges with the opposite sex are inadequate reasons. So, I decided to tell y’all why would do this.
Writing is cathartic. I have a voice that I commonly choose to silence. Just because no one is listening doesn’t mean I should always keep it to myself. Like the song says, “If I get it all down on paper, it’s no longer inside of me, Threatening the life it belongs to.”
I think most artists struggle internally. I am no exception. We turn to art because there is something inside of us that needs to be released. You don’t need to excel at your medium, you only need to love it. I have written whole novels that will never see the light of day, reams of poetry, etc… I will never show them to anyone. This is just a little blog post. I see it. I write it for myself, though I hope the occaisional reader is entertained.

And This is Why I Don’t Date….

It seems like I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t.

In the spirit of change, I am deliberately flirting with men who don’t really do it for me. This is largely due to my animal magnetism…. I only attract animals. If you are likely to hit me, call me mean names and generally treat me like shit, ooohh…..come sit next to me, big boy. I like my men like my coffee…. Light, strong and not sweet at all. What can I say? Knowing is half the battle.

Being an enlightened woman, I thought I’d pick men I would not normally go for. In theory, this is a good plan because I am not a good picker. I find alcoholics, men who would as soon punch me as look at me and guys who think monogamy is conceptual. Therefore, if I do not feel a burning urge to jump in the sack with a guy, it’s a good reason to go out with him.

But you take yourself with you. Whatever it is that is broken in me calls out to what is broken in men. For illustration, I give you Seven Hand Stan…. A gentleman who seemed decent. He paid, and you know Miss Shannon likes that. On date number three, he took me to a popular pool hall. As in, I am likely to see folks I know. Once inside the pool hall, the guy turned into an octopus. I was dancing around the table, trying to keep his hand out of my tush. In the parking lot, he was trying to have foreplay. Seriously?? No, just no.

And then we have the guy who keeps talking about potty training and masturbation. That’s just weird. Not in relationship to one another, but seriously? I am exhausted. I have absolutely zero desire to deal with this. Just…ewww. Seriously, eww.

Then we have Mr. I Will Give You Instructions Because I Know How You Should Conduct Your Life. I have had the pleasure of meeting a number of these fellows over the years. This guy is so sure that he knows just what you ought to be doing, as well as when and how. Bonus points when he lives with his mother, which he almost always does.

I find these guy in innocuous places…. Nope, never in a bar. It’s not like I’m saying ooh, pick me. If you’ve seen the winners I’ve kept around for more than ten minutes, you have to ask yourself what makes me throw ‘em back. It is not pretty, people. Rule 36B in Shannon’s Handbook for Success, it clearly states that your significant other should think you are the most fabulous creature they have ever come across. Warts and all. I think I’ll hold out for that hero, after all. Or at least a man I possession of a spine of his very own.

Janie’s Got A Gun


We become different people as we age. Once upon a time, I was fairly opposed to fire arms, abortion, divorce and decaffeinated coffee. Then, you know, I experienced a little life and realized I could fill countless libraries with topics there are no right answers to. Here goes, poi by point, easy stuff first:

Decaffeinated coffee is still stupid. It doesn’t taste right, it doesn’t wake you up and is pretty much pointless. It’s right up there with nonalcoholic beer.

Divorce is a good thing for many, many people. This might not be true if humanity didn’t persist in tying the knot when we are too young to really know ourselves, let alone our lifelong intentions. Long story short, Life is too short to be miserable. Get out of bad relationships whenever possible.

Abortion is not exactly the plan for anyone. “A woman does not want an abortion like she wants an ice cream cone, a new dress, or a Porsche; she wants an abortion like an animal caught in a trap wants to gnaw off its own leg to escape.” (Frederica Mathewes-Green) I truly believe that only the owner of the vagina gets to decide. Guys in suits should never, ever get a vote.

Firearms. Guns. Yup, Miss Shannon bought herself a very pretty gun. (Her whole world’s come undone) I will use it for target practice and just maybe to grocery shop. I’ll get back to you.
So… I did not like guns until I was steamrolled into firing one. It’s exhilarating. Give it a shot sometime. Pun intended. I’m not going to go on a shooting spree and I’m not hunting exes, though I think that would be entertaining. I’m responsible enough to keep it locked safely away from little hands. I have the added bonus that I know I can defend myself.