Mark already did the big announcement about the deed. And I’ve been so unfortunately busy in the last month and a half that I’ve barely had time to think. Anyhoo. Here would be some of the photographic evidence that girls do go wild indeed. Just don’t go telling anybody. For the record, I was extremely well behaved and used the sexy little bouncer for all of my stunts.

Ahh, ya gotta love a bunch of Pirate Chicks along with those who come along for the Pirate Chick ride. Ya just do. They never let a special event go by without celebrating with cake and alcohol.

Becky and Natalie decided that come hell or high water there should be a bachelorette party the week before the wedding.

It was a beautiful evening, not too hot, not too cold. We all met up at Hooters for dinner and a drink. It was nice. Our little waitresses were super sweet, although I must say, I honestly thought I’d see more tits and ass. Not that they weren’t precious in their little Hooters gear, they were. But my 14 year old neice has more boobie and butt than these poor girls had.

Meet Ashley and Felicia:

The Hot boneless chicken tenders were tasty as all hell, my lips were nice and tingly for a while though. The girls decided to get me a cute little shirt to commemorate the joyous occassion.

In general, Hooters doesn’t see many bachelorette parties, but they do get hoards of bachelor parties… So, they improvised and got the Bachelor Party Shirt and turned into a Bachelorette Party shirt that all the little girls in tight Hooter’s shirts signed with loves n kisses.

We decided that it was time to continue on and move the festivities to Coyote Joe where Natalie and Holly had decorated and made it look like a scene from a slasher flick with the “Wild Girls- Caution” tape.

They adorned Diva with a princess tiara which boldly stated that I am indeed the Bride to Be… and if there was any question left due to the tiara being hiddeny by my hair which was erect like a hard penis, then the big Bride to Be button aptly placed between my breasts certainly gave it away.

So, we go in and invade the corner lot of CJ, nothing different there.

Olga made a real honest to God rum cake. It was a Jolly Roger, cuz she knows how we pirates roll.

We love the booty, especially rum laced booty.

Precious came and gave me congratulations lovins when she brought the multitude of drinks over.

It was time to have a little fun. We had games on tap, and honestly, watching them set up the Pin the Bow-Tie on the Bachelor was more fun than playing it.

Amanda gave the poster a hard on when she licked it from thigh to belly-button.

And Steph gave our bachelor a nice sized penis to look at…

Onward and upward we go. We had Do the Dare Cards. I mean the name alone implies that there will be some mischief going on. Let the photographic evidence be known!!

I need to state that, I, as the bride to be, didn’t do anything extreme. On the contrary, I was very well behaved. Four of the six cards I drew from the deck were completed by our sweetheart of a bouncer. God bless you, sugar!

Diva’s cards dared her to:

• get the bouncer to laugh for 100 points. Done!
• get a hunk to give her a neck massage. Done!
• get the phone number of a hot guy. Done!
• get a man to show you a hidden tattoo. Done! (It was on his upper thigh)
• get the bartender to give you a free drink. Done!
• find a guy, grab his ass, and tell him he has a nice ass. Done! (Twice!)

(Steph was witness. Two guys, two butts, double points!)

Here are some photos of the festivities! Enjoy!

Shawna found a baldguy & kissed him on top of his head:

Natalie and Amanda took the cake when they talked one of the big biker boys out of his drawers.

So, today marks the day of an ever so joyous event.  Diva’s bachelorette party!!!  Yay!

Well, our beloved Mark is sitting back, and sniveling, because he has a penis, not a vagina.

No penises at Diva’s bachelorette party.  Only people who are proud owners of a vagina are allowed as we will be greatly misbehaved and no males are allowed to be there to witness such naughty things as will be going on tonight. 

In addition to lotsa drinkin, games on tap include:

Pin the bow-tie on the bachelor, Do or dare cards (which promises to be loads of fun since Robyn will do almost anything if dared), and a naughty scavenger hunt.

Details and photographic evidence to follow.

SLOTH.

I went into sloth-remission last year and got into excellent shape.  I lost more than 70 pounds.  I was wearing slutty tight jeans and looking pretty good in them.  I had enough self confidence that I even scared me a time or three.  I was attracting ample attention from the opposite sex.  I wasn’t the fat Pirate anymore.  I blended in well with the other girlies.  I was becoming a certified hottie patoddie. 

Then…  around turkey day… I lost my motivation or ate way to much turkey with dressing and punkin pie or something.  I started eating everything in sight that even looked like it had a carb attached to it.  I quit going to the gym like I was.  My butt went from being touchably firm back to jiggly like a bowl of jello.  Of course, poured into the jeans, nobody could tell.  But I could tell.

I’m still down several sizes from where I started.  Thank God, because I gave all of my fat clothes away and bought new.  They just don’t fit as comfortably as they did.  I find myself having to hold my breath… ALOT! Didn’t take long before I started to get more and more miserable. 

Now here it is summer.  The season I spent the whole of last fall dreaming of, only to wake up and realize… I had failed.  I’m not beach worthy.  I’m not bathing suit worthy. 

I honestly do know what the problem with my motivation is and I am actively working on a resolution to it.  I couldn’t beat ’em, so I joined ’em.

I have quit with the Taco Bell, Papa John’s and Booger King.  I have stopped sneaking into the kitchen and scarfing down a couple cookies here, a few chips there.  And most importantly, I’m not just spending ungodly amounts of money on a gym membership. No longer will it just be an expense sucked out of my bank account.  No. 

I have started doing cardio and group exercize classes again.  I have started eating healthy again.  For my health’s sake.

I had forgotten how good I felt when I was working out and eating right.  It wasn’t just the ability to wear skanky clothes.  It’s more internal than that.  I liked the way I felt.   I had energy. I had attitude. 

So, here I go again.  Wish me luck.  I have a wedding dress to fit into in 2 months and 19 days…

ON DEMAND!!!!   Yes!

 Every so often I get bored and turn on the boob-tube.  As usual, I am sorely disappointed that I pay SATAN (Comcast blog) a hundred bucks or so a month for 197 channels on which there is not a damn thing to watch.

However, there is a slight redeeming quality to my personal hate of beelzebub.  On-Demand!  Yay!

Now where else will one find such an unlimited supply of good stuff?

My joy stems from the fact that I found TubeTime, and this isn’t the first time I’ve experienced such utter happiness.

Today, I found *sniffle, tear* Fantasy Island, my friends!  How could I possibly  resist?  

Well, what other show can take viewers into the past, into the future, into kinky love affairs? 

But wait! That’s not all, folks!  Your host for the journey is a sexy dude, with orange skin, a white leisure suit, and a midget!

Some freaky crap went on there on Fantasy Island…  Scary, sometime criminal things.  You know how warped folks can be when they are fantasizing. Anyhoo, Mr. Rork, lets these demented people have their freaky fantasy (generally with ill results waiting in the wings), only to step in at the last second and save the day!

At the end of the day, all visitors get a lei and fly off on ZEEEplane. 

Wow.  On-Demand!  You’re my hero.

Monday Melee

1. The Misanthtropic: Name something (about humanity) you absolutely hate.

I hate the fact that there are so many awful people out there that would wait until their wife/girlfriend/lover is about to burst at the seams with impending child birth and kill them.  I mean, come on.  If a man is cheating, or doesn’t want a baby, or whatever… WALK OUT ASSHOLE!  Don’t kill her because you are a bottom-feeding freak of nature. 

Don’t prey on someone who is in too vunerable a condition to be able to appropriately fight back.  She (and her baby) has a right to live.

Pure evil.

And, as usual, drama queens and attention whores will forever be something I just loathe.

2. The Meretricious: Expose something or someone that’s phony, fraudulent or bogus.

I have only one in mind, and I’m not so sure it would be a good thing.  So, since I can’t say something nice today, I’ll keep my yap shut.  ZZZZZip.

I will expose myself though.  I am a complete fake.  I am not the sweet, kind, loving, caring, angelic individual that you all know and love.

3. The Malcontent: Name something you’re unhappy with.

I’m unhappy that I am simply not a morning person.  I would go so far as to say I’m anti-morning.  I manage to drag myself out of bed just in time to have a shower, pour some coffee down my throat and drive to work with my head hanging out the window in order to get that wicked windblown look. So, I am unhappy that I can’t appreciate a new day any earlier than 5:00pm.

4. The Meritorious: Give someone credit for something and name it if you can.

Today I give my fiancee complete and total credit for putting up with my constant string of shit.  I generally give him a run for his money.  But, lately I’ve been extremely emotional (imagine that) and have been taking him on the rollercoaster ride of the century.  Lately I’ve been worse than a spoiled 5 year old.  He over looks my sarcasm most of the time and doesn’t take it totally personal.  Go Tony.  You’re one hell of a man, man.

5. The Mirror: See something good about yourself and name it.

I think it’s good that I can admit being a total ass-munch.  See #4.

6. The Make-Believe: Name something you wish for.

This week to hurry and be over.  We go on vacation next week.  So, all the good stuff I wished for on last week’s Melee may just come true. 

At least the cold beer and sex part.

Go Diva, Go Diva, Go Diva

Now it’s your turn.

You can take part in The Monday Melee, even make it a regular feature at your site by visiting The Monday Melee page and following the steps. Kick-start your brain on Mondays and meet other bloggers.

Ok.  If I’m nothing else, I’m completely honest and tend to let all my inhibitions fall to the ditch with my pals in our little blogging world.   Since only a few of you know me on a totally personal level, and have never seen my face, and could most likely not pick me out in a line-up… I don’t mind sharing my innermost thoughts with you… even if they are sometimes a little off. 

So, we were at Catscratch Jane’s, and Scotty reminded me that I was going on about how much of a hottie Toby Keith is.  Yes, it’s true.  I’d sop that boy up with a biscuit.

In the midst of a discussion about blogging a “Hottie of the Day” about Toby Keith, I (without thinking, of course) blurt out that, “I have had so many wet dreams about Toby Keith, I can not possibly do it justice”…

So…  I will not attempt to discuss why Toby is such a hottie, but will continue seeing him “Dream walkin and Pillow talkin”. 

I will recess now to the confines of my cold shower.

Peace.  Out.

Not only do I notice skanks and bimbos and man-whores, but I take the time to notice extremely sexy people too. You know, the sexy ones who make you stop for a second and say, “Thank you, God!”

Diva’s choice for HOTTIE OF THE DAY: CRISS ANGEL

My, my, my, my, my, my, my. Can somebody get me a glass of ice water and a set of handcuffs?

I had forgotten just how hot he is since we are currently in between seasons of MindFreak. But just last night, I saw a rerun from last season and it all came rushing back to me. Dang! He’s freakin hot!

I first started drooling over this man a couple years back when I saw him on the strip in Vegas. He was doing card tricks on the street. I didn’t realize who he was until I got home and a good little while later saw him on MindFreak.

In the beginning he was almost scary looking. So, what makes Criss Angel so hot now?

The magician gig. There is something about a mystic that is pure, unadulterated sexy. He is very passionate about his endeavors, which obviously makes Diva think that he would be very passionate in all aspects of his being *wink*.

The hair. He pulls off the long semi-80’s teased look like a pro. Not since Sebastian Bach has any man rocked 80’s mall hair.

The eyes. Mesmerizing. Deep eyes that you could get lost in and not want to find your way back. If you watch his show, you know that he has a dreamy quality going on with those eyes. I’m not 100% sure, but I don’t think it is safe to make direct eye contact with him. Might go into hottie shock.

The Abs. Um. Day-um, the six pack. Honestly, the man has the body of a Greek god. With all of the physical preparation and the black belt in karate, it’s no wonder.

Confidence. Although he wasn’t always totally hot, there is a certain self-confident quality about him without cresting that point of being completely stuck on himself.

The Tag Line is even sexy. “Are you ready?” Oh honey, am I.

I’ve decided after my boob job and the bleach, I’d like to have Criss Angel delivered to my door with a big red bow on his forehead. Better yet, he lives in Vegas; deliver me to him by same day service.

The names in this blog will be changed to protect the guilty, as my imagination can only run wild as I wonder to myself… WTF are those two talking about?

As heard in Catscratch Jane’s last night…

***Dude, now my breath smells like your girlfriend!***

Um. Where would I go from here? I sat there in the midst of the live “entertainment” which is ever present on Wednesday, my mind spinning, thinking to myself … EWWWW!

Do I even want to know what exactly that meant? Me thinks not.

Yup, yup. Hmm.  Is this one lame, or just plain scary?

Seriously, kids, I don’t make this crap up. But I absolutely love that people say such stupid things. I find it amazing that people really come off with such utterly ignorant blurbs. In addition to giving me something to blog about, it usually amuses me greatly. And boy, did this one amuse me…

Part Deux

***Tan fat is so much prettier than white fat***

I literally did a double take at the skank standing next to me as I was checking into the tanning bed this Saturday past. It took everything in me not to fall over in the floor and gut laugh. What?!?! Tan fat?

Hello, sweetheart. I’m here tanning, too. And I’ll be honest. I see nothing pretty about tan fat as opposed to white fat. Seriously, if you are fat, then you have fat rolls, say like a Shar Pei puppy, right?

Let me help you get a visual on this one, sister. Do you really think that having tan parts intermingled with the white fat rolls is pretty?

God bless the stand-up tanning bed, you can put your arms up in the air and alleviate those pesky white spots.

Yup, yup. Chalk another one up to one of the lamest things I’ve ever heard.

Okay. By now, we all know I am a big mouth girl, with an even bigger personality and a colossus opinion about most everything. So, it seems that lately, I’ve had plenty of time to sit back, watch and listen. And some of the things I have heard recently make me want to say, “Um. What?!?!?! Get a grip, you ditz!” This is merely one of them.

***You don’t like me because I’m fat, huh?***

During a discussion about male/female carrying ons, a male friend of mine, Spike*, told me that some girl had said this one to him because he wasn’t paying her the attention she felt like she deserved or wanted.

Oh, please, honey!

Will somebody please explain to me how women figure that if a man is not paying attention to them, or not “liking” them, or not fawning over them, then it’s surely because of that big ass attached to their backside???

First off, I wonder if she ever stopped to think, if a brother isn’t giving her skins, that maybe it’s not her fat butt… maybe it’s the beautiful personality that she displays constantly… You know, the personality that rivals Peyton Manning’s dripping wet sweat sock midway through the 4th quarter of the Superbowl?

B- What man is going to want you when you are oozing ickee-ness all over the bar, grocery store, or library by hitting on and trying to make out with anything and everything with a penis? Seriously, if I was a dude, and I saw a girl (any girl) hitting on one guy, getting the boot, then hitting on the next guy, getting the boot, then hitting on the next guy, getting the boot… I’m not so sure I’d be into her either. That’s just icky.

Thirdly and lastly (as if I don’t wrap it up here, I may keep going on and on)- Diva isn’t exactly a petite, Barbie doll sized girl of perfection.  Now Diva knows that, although men do dig up on the arm candy, they also love women who will laugh with them, talk to them and have a great time doing whatever it is they are doing. Diva does not, nor has she ever, suffered from lack of attention from the opposite sex. Because regardless of the size of her blue jeans, Diva has no lack of esteem.

Why?

It’s a little thing called self-confidence, sister. You might try looking that one up and studying on it for a minute.

Yup, yup. You don’t dig me because I’m fat…..That’s one of the lamest things I think I’ve ever heard.

*Names have been changed to protect the innocent AND the guilty.