The Dutch Files

From the D to the U, the T-C, the H, the Y, and can no other lady turn the head of a guy. She’s Dutchalicious.But she IS promiscuous. And if you were suspicious, oh that ain’t fictitious….she blows. What? You expected more? No, that’s the end of this Dutchess’s song.

Are you aware of how I first met the Dutchess? (Yes, I’m spelling Duchess wrong on purpose).

We met one hot, steamy night in the Red Light District. You might have seen us in the window. And if you did, you know you couldn’t look away! From the Dutchess at least.
I’ve been stalking her ever since, but I don’t think she minds. I can at least pretend she doesn’t mind since she’s not here to protest.

No, while the Dutchess is gone, I can sit on her throne and play with all of her fun toys. Come too close and I will use this whip! Or the handcuffs. Wow, she has a lot of stuff here! Something is vibrating under me as I speak. I’ll pretend to be annoyed but not turn it off as I continue. Ahem.

I’ve already visited the dungeon (and hey, Dutchess…when you get back, you might want to let the hot guy go…he’s looking a little worn out), the “tower of pleasure,” and all of the other fun rooms in her castle.

Oops. Was I not supposed to tell you that she really lives in a castle? A very “special” sort of castle. Sorry, Dutchess! But it really is unfair to keep such a place to yourself. A proper Dutchess is not selfish, you know!

Yes, I think Marty only kept it secret after his visit because he didn’t want to get locked in the dungeon again. Poor Marty.

Okay, well I’m off to visit the dungeon bathroom now that I’m done sitting on Dutchess’s vibrator throne. If you hear a man yelling, it’s just me playing the television really loud. At least that’s what the Dutchess told me to tell you.

Works every time for her!

Welcome to day… um… something of DutchBitch’s vacay.  Today your host will be the ever fabulous Miss Britt.  (That’s me)

As every blogger knows, a guest post is merely an opportunity to siphon traffic from another blogger.  And, er, do something nice.  Obviously my motives are mainly altruistic.  Mainly.

ANYway - my post.  Guest posting is always pressure packed for any writer.  And, like any “writer” will tell you, when you’re in a pinch you go back to your roots.  You “write what you know”.

This is what I know.

The management of pubic hair is complicated business.

Several months ago I took on the challenge of prepubescent beauty.  Of course, it didn’t happen all at once.  I had to peel back the years in stages, going from trim to strip to Woo Hoo I’m 12 Again! over several weeks.  I did my homework and let the Internet guide me in ways of lotions and creams and shaving with hair growth.  After much trial and error I finally mastered the whole process - no bumps, no bruises, no chemical burns and (most importantly), no hair.

Of course, the minute you think you’ve mastered something and start sending out “Look! I Did It!” postcards to your email list, something is bound to go awry.  Pride cometh before a fall and what not.

(cue dramatic someone’s about to die music)

One evening, I decided it was finally time to show off my new found skillz to my husband.  I soaked in the tub for a while and let the steam do its job while I shampooed and razored my legs, etc. etc. etc.  I let the water drain and lathered up with Coochie Creme.  No.  Seriously.  That’s what the stuff is called and it’s AMAZING (or at least it was before I lost it in an airport security check point… fuckers).  I shaved all the reachables and most of the non-reachables, relishing in my skill and craftsmanship.

I then got out of the tub, toweled off, and prepared to finish the job.  You see, there are some parts that are just too delicate to imagine touching with a razor blade.  I am, after all, a delicate flower.  For these parts I insist on using my husband’s electric beard trimmer.  He has no beard and the only person I’ve seen use it in years is my little brother when he’s touching up his sideburns (and, well, that’s what he gets for invading my bathroom and making himself at home.  All’s fair in love and hair removal).

This is a small, rechargeable beard trimmer.  It doesn’t have the greatest battery life in the world, but when it dies out you simply plug it back into the base and it will completely recharge in about 24 hours.  The main thing is, it’s bladeless so I have no fears of an accidental knick or scratch in a place where even the tiniest knick is way too fucking much for me to handle.

ANYway, I set myself to finishing up.  As soon as I turned the trimmer on my instincts said this was going to be bad.  Instead of the loud, electric whirring that often brings ears to the door and screams of “Mom!  What ARE you doing in there?!!?” - the mini shaver emitted more of a whine.  A groan, if you will, that alerted me that power was next to nothing and fading fast.

“Well, there’s not much left,” I told myself, “a quick minute and you’ll be done anyway.”

A minute.  I wish.  The whine slowed to a pathetic hiss as I frantically tried to rid myself of the last remaining signs of maturity.

“Hurry!  Hurry!  Huuuuurrr…..eeeeeee…..”

*silence*

It was dead.  No amount of turning on and off was going to revive it.  It had to be plugged in and let rest for a full day or so.

A full day.  Not so bad.  Especially since I had gotten almost everything done anyway.

Almost.

Except for one little “tuft” in one very odd spot.

Nothing says “hey baby, check out your sex pot wife and aren’t you soooo glad you ended up with this one?!” like a cowlick.  On your vagina.

Hello my fellow Dutch File Fans. I am Peety and I will be your insane host for today while the Queen Bitch catches up on her beauty sleep. (You know us Bitches)

Well In Honor of the Queen Bitch herself I present, Bitchin’ Humor:

1.Little Johnnie was learning new words. “Mum, what’s pussy?” Mother pointed at the cat and said, “That’s a pussy.” “Mum, what’s a bitch?” Mother pointed to their female dog and said, “That’s a bitch.” Johnnie wanted to confirm this information with his father. “Daddy!” he said excitedly, “What’s a pussy?” Father pulled out the centerfold of the Playboy magazine and drew a circle around the appropriate part. “Son”, he said, “that’s a pussy.” “Well, Dad, what’s a bitch?” “Everything outside the circle”, replied his father.

2.Three guys and a lady were sitting at the bar talking about their professions.
The first guy says “I’m a Y.U.P.P.I.E, you now….
Young, Urban, Professional, Peaceful; Intelligent; Ecologist”

The second guy says “I’m a D.I.N.K, you know….
Double Income, No Kids.” The third guy says, “I’m a R.U.B., you know…. Rich, Urban, Biker.”

They turn to the woman and ask her, “What are you?”
She replies: “I’m a WIFE, you know….Wash, Iron, Fuck, Etc.”

So, just exactly what is a BITCH?

B - BABE
I - IN
T - TOTAL
C - CONTROL OF
H - HERSELF

3. How can you tell 2 twin witches apart? You can’t tell which bitch is which.

4. How do you turn a dishwasher into a snowblower? Hand the bitch a shovel.

5. Bitch - Beautiful Individual That Causes Hard on!!!

Lastly, the Dutch Queen’s work-out video: Buffed, Beautiful & Bitchin

WISHING THE DUTCH QUEEN A WONDERFUL VACATION!!

Peety from Peety Passion

QUESTION # 569: INVITATION TO ANARCHY

Dear Useless Men,

OK… So I know it’s been done before… I’ve done so for others but I am still gonna jump on the bandwagon…

I will be on holiday July 26 - August 6 and yes… I am looking for bloggers to go out on a limb and do a post on The Dutch Files during that time…

Oh come on! You know you want to hijack this blog and f@&k it up! You do!

Will I have to beg? *cracking dutchbitch whip*

Anyways: I would love to know if you are ready to do this. As far as I am concerned you can write about anything.

If you are up for it, let me know!!!

DutchyHugz,
DutchBitch

—–

Dear DutchBitch,

You want us to post for you? Us? Useless Men? Not only are we unworthy to post on your site, we have no idea what we could possibly write about? I mean, we even censored the swear word in your question…

Hey, it’s YOUR blog, and you asked, so here is a post for you. Just copy and paste THIS answer from our blog to YOUR blog and then we can both be satisfied. No begging.

Begging is unbecoming. Or so I’ve been told whenever I beg for things. Like a Dutchie. I love Dutchies! Do you have Dutchies in that place that you come from? Dutchyland?

Dutchies are delicious. They are these gooey doughnuts, with raisins. RAISINS! As if sugar glazed doughy goodness wasn’t enough, they added RAISINS! If I could add one baking supply to MY blog, it’d be chocolate chips, because more people like chocolate than anything else. But if it wasn’t chocolate chips, it would be sprinkles. They’re colourful and delicious too. Raisins would definitely be third though.

And what is better than the third best baking supplement in a doughnut? I’ll tell you! They make the Dutchie doughnut SQUARE! YES! SQUARE! There is no hole, so no wasted dough, and it is square. You can eat it like a sandwich! In fact, that may be the greatest thing ever… A doughnut sandwich! Slice a dutchie in half, add your favourite sandwich filling, or egg salad, some lettuce, a slice of tomato, a pickle on the side, and VOILA! (Voila is French. French is Canada’s second language. Legally, I have to use both languages when corresponding internationally.) The Dutchie Sandwich, named after the most Dutchilicious Dutchie Dutch that a Useless Man could ever know.

That’s really all I’ll have when you are away. A Dutchie Sandwich. I fill my lonliness with food. So if I gain 12 pounds over the 12 days of your holiday, don’t feel guilty, but know this:

I’m blaming you for my flabby thighs.

Sincerely,
One Useless Man
http://www.dearuselessmen.com/

Well, here I am at Dutchies’ place!

Always wanted to go thru her drawers, I just hoped when I did she’d be in them! Oh well… Let’s see what we’ve got.

Top drawer- a ton of batteries, must have alot of power outages… Wait a minute- those aren’t flashlights! About the same size of one though…

Second drawer- 1,2,3,4,-9 outfits! And they don’t weigh more than 1/2 a kilo combined.. seems to like black…

Let’s check the closet… My God! She actually owns those spiked heels and red leather boots!

Checking the fridge next… not much of a boozer, just a little girlie wine..

Whole place is “Dutch clean” as we say in W.Michigan-meaning eating off the floor is an option! The computer looks like it’s hooked into NORAD-she knows her stuff…

This is an all points bulletin to the single men in a 100km radius-you need to get to know this woman! You must be a decent, employed male in the 35-45 range, who likes The Kid, and is up to handling a strong willed woman with nice ta-tas.

My work is done here…