The Dutch Files

Bon Giorno my lovelies! The DutchBitch is back at DutchBitch Casa. I was happy to find that allaya hadn’t changed the locks and you had carefully erased all signs of the orgies that were held over here during my absence (trust you to have the orgies while I am nót here, pffttt) the place looked spotless…

I had a great time in Italy and I will be spending the better part of today doing laundry and ironing and putting back all the stuff I hauled to Pizzaland (WTF is it about the always taking too much stuff with ya on holiday and then still upon return having to wash and put back all of it?), but fear not. I will be here tomorrow with the Italian Holiday Highlights for sure!

I will make an attempt to read up on all of your blogs in the next few days and I am pretty sure that by the end of the week I’ll be back up to speed!

Thanks so much to Lucy from Lucy’s Dilemma, Buffalodickdy from Opinions and Rectums, We all got one!, Useless Man from Useless Advice from Useless Men, Peety from Peety Passion, Britt from Miss Britt, Dawn from So A Blonde Walks Into A Blog, Avi from Avitable-isms: Tact is for Pussies, Hilly from Snackie’s World, Nobody from My Blog Is About Nothing, Lynda from Lynda’s Great Journey, Attila from Cheaper Than Therapy, Karl from Second Hand Tryptophan for their Anarch-etic activities on The Dutch Files while I was working on my tan in the Tuscan sun. I’ll be reading up on all of your posts today. I am sure I’ll love what you’ve done with the place.

Oh, and can the owner of the used condoms that were left behind the couch come and pick them up, please?

See ya tomorrow, hon-eyz!!! Missed ya!

Welcome to day 11 of Dutchy’s 12 Days of Anarchy! I’m Attila the Mom, and this is my very first guest post, so bear with me. I’ve been reading the previous guest hosts, and dayum, they’re all hard acts to follow!

If you’ve ever read my blog, you already know that I’m a bit anal retentive.

Ok, that’s probably an understatement.

If you have, I’m sure you understand my sentiments about “If you want a job done right, do it yourself!”

No wishy-washy half-assedness around here, By Golly, and I’ve never been the kind of girl who indulges in—well— appliances to help me along, if you know what I mean. [wink wink, nudge nudge]

I guess this would be perfect if I was a hermit, but I crave companionship. It’s not as fun doing it all by myself.

But really, how many times can you say to someone (especially to someone you love) “Apply yourself a little more to the left!” or “Not so choppy!” or “Steady strokes are the most efficient” or even “Damn, you made a mess before I even got started. Could you get a towel and clean this up?” before you want to get your hand in there and finish it once and for all by yourself?

Most of the time I could have simply chased him/her/them out of the room and polished off the job on my own in two minutes with less mess and fuss and be enormously happy!

Luckily I’m married to a very understanding guy who, after he gets done with what he feels is HIS part, is probably relieved to roll over and take a nap, be banished to the garage, or better yet the TV room to watch football.

There he can feel manly without having to bow under the weight of my disappointed gaze.

Since I hit the big Four-Oh this year, however, I’ve been craving change.

Plus my hands are a little tired.

Late one night I was up and caught an infomercial on cable. Grown-ups sitting around a table communing with froofy cocktails and eating exotic dips with chips. Men looking aroused and yet relieved, women appearing satiated and yet still excited.

One was actually smoking a cigarette with a gratified smile, even in this overly PC day and age.

I wanted to be there with them. I wanted to BE them! What were they selling that grabbed me so fervently in my girly parts?

A bullet. A silver bullet. A magical silver bullet. With unlimited power! I pulled out my credit card and ordered right away.

Within a week, I got my bullet in a discreet brown box. No absurdly flashy company logo proclaiming the contents that had to be hidden from my husband, children or mail carrier in case they shock or traumatize easily.

I can’t begin to tell you how it’s changed my life!

Its smooth silver body is not too big or too small. It’s absolutely the perfect size to get the job done! It has multiple accessories, but I’m not quite that adventurous yet.

I can use it for hours.

It doesn’t complain that it’s tired. It doesn’t complain that I’m impossible to please.

It doesn’t complain if I don’t shave my legs.

Hell, I could accidentally pop a fluffy, and it won’t run out of the room screaming that I’m gross and I’ve ruined everything!

After an hour or two alone with my beautiful silver bullet I feel so energized that I could take on a crowd of 50 or more—men or women alike. I could take on the high school football team. I could take on the Rotary Club or the Chamber of Commerce.

Dare I say it? I could even take on the PTA, and give those bitches something to smile about. They’d be so contented they’d have trouble walking out of the room!

My bullet has turned me into an insatiable slut of the first order.

I’ve never done a product-placement post, and this isn’t one now. It’s an honest-to-gosh endorsement.

I truly believe that every man or woman could enhance their lives with this product. This silver bullet would be the perfect gift for everyone on your holiday list, especially for those who have inflamed joints or arthritis.

I wouldn’t give it to kids though.

In this day and age, where almost everything can be accomplished electronically, I think that introducing this product at too young of an age could be potentially harmful.

If young people don’t learn how to “do” it by hand, how are they going to cope if say—the power goes off, or there’s an internal electrical malfunction in the unit?

And if they don’t know how to take care of themselves manually, they might just stumble around bereft, walking into walls, literally starving for some “lovin’ in the oven”.

Some of today’s kids are stupid that way. If they go to a library to use the computers and the Internet connection is down, they’ll pace in circles muttering, “Well damn! I’ve got nothing to read!”

Doh!

It might be a great going-to-college gift for a young person. I mean, if they haven’t figured out how to “do it by themselves” before then, they’ll probably never get the hang of it.

For a wonderful view of this amazing bullet, click HERE. Don’t worry, it’s safe for work.

No lascivious, drooling pictures of nymphos showing their stuff.

Oh wait, were you expecting THIS?

Ha. ;-)

I was so honored that Dutchy asked me, Lynda, to do a guest post. Honor quickly gave way to curiosity as to what I was going to write about. Well, Dutchy also said we could have free-reign to write whatever we want, and since I am sweet and innocent, this post probably won’t be as exciting as some of the other posts you might have read. And with that disclaimer, today we are going to learn how to build your own red light district, right in the comfort of your home!

First, you are going to need a few things:

Required:
-A red light bulb or two (You could also do a red scarf over the lamp, but keep in mind this is a fire hazard.)
-Your spouse, significant other, The Vaginator, or whatever else makes you happy
-A wad of cash, large bills preferred

Optional:
-Sexy, seductive clothing (Whatever turns you on. Or the person you are doing. Whatever.)
-A sheet of Plexiglass slightly larger than your bedroom door

Step One – Give your partner the wad of cash, and tell them you will be calling them shortly and not to go far. Let them know they will need to bring the cash with them. (If you have kids, send him to dropped them off at your local matinee with instructions to see a double feature.) If you are using The Vaginator, or similar device, put it someplace where you can see it with the cash underneath.

Step Two - Replace your light bulbs with the “red district” light bulbs. If you are using the plexiglass, take your door off the hinges, and screw in the plexiglass. After you are done with this step, put on your seductive clothing.

Step Three – Call your partner. If you are using the optional plexiglass, you may need to call him on your cell phone. You forgot your cell phone? Well, go get it. It won’t take nearly as long to put up the plexiglass the second time. Then, work it like a chick in a department store window. Shake that hiney. Work it, baby! If you aren’t using the plexiglass, make sure you don’t talk, because the whole point here is to act like you are on display in a window of Amsterdam’s Red Light District.

Step Four – Indicate to your partner, The Vaginator, or similar device that you think they are interested. At this point, you should receive some sort of affirmation, so go ahead and unscrew the plexiglass if you are using it, and invite your mark into the room.

Step Five – Tell the mark how much you cost. Have your partner give you the cash, or take the cash from under your pleasure-seeking device. Count it, and if any is missing, send them away unsatisfied. Hopefully, the paid attention, and you can proceed. Put it in an envelope and put it in your nightstand, between the mattress or someplace safe.

Step Six – Give ‘em what they paid for. That’s all up to you.

Step Seven – This is the most important step of all. Be sure to take out 40% of the cash. This is your cut. Now, send the remaining 60% to me. Email me at the email address in my sidebar at Lynda’s Great Journey, and I will tell you where to send me my cut of the cash. What, you didn’t think you got to keep all of it? You were on the clock! Hand it over! Don’t make me send Brutus over to get you to pay up, because he’s tough.

This concludes the DIY Red Light District Lesson. And if you ever are out to Dutchyland, don’t forget to make a stop at Amsterdam’s Red Light District and see what it has to offer. It’s a famous or something. I am not 100% sure, because I have never seen it.

If you need help sparking your imagination for the DIY Red Light District, here is a video:

Geez, I feel really bad. I’ve been busier than a one legged man at an ass kicking content. I’m up to my asshole in alligators. I’m as busy as a one armed paper hanger. You get the idea… I haven’t even checked in here at Dutchyland in week or so. I’m a shitty blogger friend…

Anyhow, it’s my turn to guest post, and I have Nothing. Big surprise to those of you who regularly read my shitty little blog.

So, I’ll just share with you all what I’ve been doing right now. Well, not really now, it was a few minutes ago.

Nobody’s Girl is 4 years old. She would have turned 5 in October, but I shot her.

For some reason she refuses to go to bed at night. Actually, she will go to her bed, but once she gets there she just cries and throws a fit. She did this tonight. I told her over and over that she better stop it. Finally, I’d had enough. I told her if she didn’t stop, I was getting the gun.

I bought a .22 pistol a few months back, and she seemed quite concerned that I would use it to shoot her. She’s terrified of that gun.

But not enough that she stopped crying. So I shot her. Three times. She didn’t seem to enjoy it. But I did. So did Nobody’s Boy. He’s tired of her bullshit too.

Lucky for her I didn’t use the .22 pistol. I used Nobody’s Boy’s water gun.

I’m easily amused.

-Nobody™

A funny thing happened on the way to this blog post…..

For the last few weeks, I was convinced that I was supposed to post here on August 6th. However, I knew that I went a day after Avitable so when I saw his post in my FeedDemon last night, I almost peed all over my cat! Sure enough, I had the wrong date seared into my brain so I just took it like a woman and sat down to bang something out (a post, you sickos!). Then, I tried to log in with my super secret nickname and password that was assigned to me by the Dutch Bitch herself, yet that did not work either. What the hell? If I had better prepared, I probably could have figured it out but whatever…toot toot, short bus coming through! Thankfully, Avitable offered up his username and password so I could make sure to get to the party on time! Later on, I tried to log in with HIS password and was still pretty much bent (sans lube). After emailing back and forth with him, I realized that my problem was trying to log in the main page of WordPress instead of the sidebar of the blog. Phew…so thanks a fuck-ton, Avi! Anyway, hi Dutchy lovers! I’m Hilly and I’m your tour guide for today. I figured since Dutchy’s favorite thing about me is the snark, I’d go off on one of my tangents here today…just for her :).

In the last few months, I’ve had two or three people tell me why they’ve stopped frequenting my blog as much as they used to.

“Well Hilly, while I truly love and adore everything about you, it’s just that you’re part of *that element* which I don’t care to expose myself to”.
What the hell element is that? The *Fifth* Element?
“No…how do I put this delicately? Ermmm, it’s your *mouth*.”
My mouth? Hey, I’ve been told that I have sexy lips and I brush twice a day!
“No, no….it’s the fact that you swear like a sailor and it’s very un-ladylike and offensive at times”.
Ohhhhh. Well, it’s truly fucked up that you can’t look past a few fucking cuss words, you snatch-sicle!

I’m well aware that as a bloggette, I put myself out there as a “public figure” therefore opening myself up to stupid comments and conversations about who I am. And while I run my blog like the Good Ship Lollipop, where I am nice and give everyone a chance, there are still some people who feel it is their duty to point out all of my little faults. It floors me that someone can say that they “love and adore everything about you” but then do a smiley stab at your insides with a backhanded comment like that. I’m sorry but if you truly love me like you say, you’re going to be able to get over the word “snatch” now and again. Do you love my guts or my vocabulary? Pffft.

That’s not to say that I don’t recognize how un-ladylike it is for me to use the colorful phrases that I do. I know that I swear more than the average woman, but but but…it’s usually for emphasis or because I think it makes me sound funny. If I said that I swear because I am insecure and need people to laugh with me, would you believe it? Okay, me neither but still…..it’s just part of who I am. When I am frustrated, I like to add “fucking this” and “fucking that” to the things I say just to demonstrate my exact emotions. Is that so wrong? And it’s not like I can’t turn it off when I want to….I freaked out my best buddy Karl at Disneyland one year when I started yelling things like “holy schmoley!” on a ride where we were sitting with kids. And trust me when I say that I don’t go around work telling people that they are worthless coozebags, even when they are! Yep, I can turn it off when I want to…it’s just that I don’t want to when I am in my own element, trying to relax.

Some boys and girls like me just the way I am and can look past the mouth, I fucking suppose. Either that, or they left their judgmental party hats at home and have decided that no one is perfect so why even be so critical? I think that we all have things about us that might not be something that someone else likes. No matter what, though, don’t ever lose who you are because an anonymous reader decides to tell you that the word “cunt” is just too offensive. Maybe it is beyotch….avert your eyes, hit your back button, go away….but just don’t send me an email telling me about it. I think I’d rather use a few choice words here and there and be happy inside rather than being an uptight Nelly whose sole purpose in life is to police the actions of others.

Yanno….cause I’m dainty, like a flower ;).

DutchyBitchySnatchy Kisses,
Hilly