Hey guys!

Just checking in after a 60 day hiatus... just wanted to let you all know, all the magic is happening over at the new blog..

http://nicoleramer.blogspot.com/

come on over.. check it out.. leave comments!

        

Yes, I'm still alive. Special thanks to everyone who emailed me, and checked up on me. I love all my readers with a firey passion, from the lurkers to the ones who wish to remain anonymous. I heart you all!!

I've been pretty busy, work.. then typically go straight to Mrs. Military's house for some jogging. (My new job has me snacking all the time, and i swear I can feel my ass getting fatter!) By the time i get home, I'm usually so tired, i shower and fall into bed. I can't even count the times in the past couple of weeks that I was in bed before 9 p.m. Sue me.. I'm getting old.

Other than that, I've been thinking a lot about my writing, and if I want my rants to be taken seriously. It's always been my dream to be a published author, so I had to sit down and figure out if I had the ovaries to come out of the closet. As many of you have noticed from my tweets, I have opened a new blog, under my real name. My ovaries are some bold bitches!

I have linked a couple of people who have asked for the new site.. if you would like it, feel free to drop me an email, but all i ask is to please go easy on me. This is my real name, and I also have a picture posted.

So, I'm just giving this project a couple of months, to see how it evolves. So I would appreciate all the support I can get! Again, I love you bitches!

        

So, this is my formal apology for the post that I wrote last night...How rude! How vague! How fucked up! Sorry, but it's really hard to write when you can't see thru the tears. It's hard to make sense of the emotions raining hell all over your body, when they are vast, and expanding in your esophagus to the point of oxygen deprived sobs.

I do feel a little silly about last night... but my puffy eyes and this gaping hole in my stomach are remnants of the very real, very raw, breakdown I experienced last night.

Normally, when the tears finally stop, I can see more clearly... but not today. It was a struggle to get out of bed... hells i feel like I'm fighting for my next breath...

You're probably wondering what the hell is wrong with me... trust me, if I knew, you'd be the first to know.. Everything in my life is fine right now. I have nothing to be moping over.... yet, I hurt. So emotionally, its physical. Pain sitting in my chest.. and ache that ebbs thru my muscles, down to the bone marrow. Is bone marrow supposed to hurt? Well, mine does.

Now, I have to go paint a pretty smile on my face, and pretend like this girl has her shit together, so nobody can see all the cracks that even super glue won't hold together.

        

I went out tonight with a specific goal. Orgasms.. lots of them. Well, I didn't even go out, just to see a "friend". There's a long history there, that I don't even feel like writing about. Well, that's not even entirely true either. I did try to write about it... for the past hour and a half. No words came.

Needless to say, I couldn't do it... do anything.. the only thing I got was a face full of self realization.

So anyways.. I'm peacing out for a while... don't know when, or if I'll be back. Seems Ryleigh Thorne is dead and gone.. and the only thing left standing is this plain, rather boring girl named Nicole.

        

Obviously I was still drunk yesterday morning, when the stellar idea of posting a picture of my chest sounded like a excellent way to make up for me running into the cripple...errr handicapped individual. And for the record, I wasn't laughing at him. I was laughing at myself, because only I, Ryleigh Thorne, could manage to walk right into dysfunctional legs strapped into a wheel chair. Then, be laughing so hard at myself that it completely takes the sentiment out of my apology. Yep, I'm straight up assy.

Mr. Not-so-anonymous-commenter-A is correct in saying, I woke up yesterday and my little round, three legged, cheap ass piece of shit table that sits next to my bed was destroyed. Since alcohol decided to kick some holes in my memory, I can only guess that I was tossing and turning in my sleep, and managed to knock it over. And yes, I did wake up naked. What can I say?! Happy Naked Fun Time, is still fun even when I'm by myself.

While I've never dressed like a skank, or been employed as a prostitute, classy is probably something I'll never be. I cuss worse than a sailor, and you never really know what I'm going to do next.... hells, I never know what I'm going to do next. As I sit right now, I have on my ghetto orange shorts and a t-shirt that's three sizes to big for me, which came into my possession three years ago when I got smacked up side the head with it. Damn t-shirt launcher.. did you have to pick my head.. in the middle of a convention? My face is dirty with last nights make-up, and the strong oder of stale beer, and bar is seeping from my pores. Sounds sexy right? But come tomorrow, I'll be dressed to the nines, in freshly pressed clothing, ready to face another day of corporate America. Will I be classy? No, not at all. Tomorrow will be just another day in my very real game of pretend.

        

Friends (BabyCakes) shouldn't let extremely drunk friends (me) get into cars (white(pimp as shit) Mercedes SUV) with two (not just one... two!!) men (strangers). No, I didn't get laid (can't rape the willing!) blah blah blah.. (don't think there is anything else important to add here.)

Since I completely ran into a handicapped man's dysfunctional legs (then laughed about it), here's a picture. (Yes, these are mine (as in, attached to my body)


Photo by BabyCakes... taken on her phone... don't ask for a better one

        

So, after my awesome day at work today, (in which I impressed both of my supervisors. I know this because they pulled me into a meeting at the end of the day to tell me exactly how awesome I truly am) I journeyed to the gym. Since Rukie has been home for the past month, I've been really slacking. While I haven't gained any weight, I'm starting to feel flabby. The only time I should jiggle this much, is when being pounded.... from behind. (I would say "properly pounded", but you really can't go wrong with doggy style.. I can rock my hips into the guy as hard as I need it.. the only encouragement I usually offer is to say, "PULL MY HAIR!!" tmi? perhaps.. but then again, you wouldn't be reading this blog if you didn't want some TMI.) (For all you acronym illiterates. TMI= too much information)

In St. Louis, its fucking hot. Like "heat advisory" hot. Like when you walk outside, you are slammed with a wall of heat so heavy, you have to learn how to breath again. Like sweat forms instantly under your boobs and you get an immediate case of swamp ass vagina. Like I did multiple pip-sniff checks today to check my freshness level. (okay, I'll admit to one crotch sniff) Oh and lets not forget to mention the 100% humidity. So, keeping that in mind, guess what running on a treadmill in the gym felt like? hhhhhoooooottttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt.

 When I got to the gym, I tried to remove most of my make-up.. but there is that last lingering bit that refuses to come off without a proper exfoliation. Like that last little bit of mascara that gives you raccoon eye. Sleep deprived.. over stressed dark circles. Yep, I had that. You're probably asking how all of this is relevant to my story. When I packed my after-gym-clothes this morning, I had no intentions of going anywhere but home. So I packed a wife beater, and an orange pair of shorts, that should only be worn to one place. Bed. (Kinda funny side note here... Mrs. Military was sporting these same shorts the other day.. and I was like "Omg, I have those same shorts!" and she was all like,"Omg!" and we were all like "O-m-f'ing-g.")

and I'm totally getting off topic again.. let's see.. I was at the gym.. dripping in sweat... put on my white trash clothing... runny make-up... Oh! Okay.. so on the way home I discovered that I needed this super emergency item from the store. An item that I'm not going to divulge, just know that it's important. The only store between where I was at.. and my home was a gas station, and I wasn't about to drive across town to pick up my special item. Nor was I going to drive home to change my clothing for an errand that was going to take all of 10 seconds to complete. (Sue me, I'm lazy)

So, blah blah blah, I get in the gas station, get my shit, turn to leave and run smack fucking dab into my ex. Not my ex husband. This was my first love. The guy that I'll never really be over, and still stops my heart every time i see him. Yep, that's the one. There I stand looking like I'm the next star in an episode of Cops with my highly important, unrevealable purchase in hand.

The world did that whole stopping thing.. like where you're stuck in that moment of time... yep a never ending moment of sheer humiliation.  Then, I actually dropped my item. He bent to pick it up. If i thought that moment before was bad, this one was even worse. I was still standing there with my mouth gaping open, and my and still in the position where I dropped my thingy. I closed my mouth before drool started seeping down my chin... then i tried to talk.. I was going to explain my item and my appearance.. but realized I didn't owe him any explanation, so I snapped my mouth closed again. I tried to say hello, but that didn't work either. I just stood there opening and closing my mouth like a little pac-man. How big of an idiot am I?!?!? Oh a fucking huge one!! Especially when the only speech I managed to speak was "I gotta go," and ran out of there with my tail tucked between my legs.

Why oh why does this shit happen to me? Why couldn't I have ran into him hours earlier when I had on my pressed linen pants, fitted button down shirt, and shoes that are soo cute I don't care they kill my feet? Thank you fate... thank you for reminding me I'm your bitch.

(Special thanks to The Stylist for introduction to the theory of Swamp Ass Vagina.)

        

Turns out, i kinda like it when someone else gives me something to write about.. it gives me a sense of direction.. and purpose! ha..

So, if there is something that you feel i've missed, or something that I said I was going to write about, but never did, please feel free to point me in that direction!

Now I'm off to go piddle around the house.. or maybe get an orgasm in before work..

        

It's Wednesday afternoon, and my yawns are right on top of each other. What the hell is wrong with me? I'm at my new job that I'm totally stoked about, I should shooting around the room with fireworks emitting from my ass. And it wasn't that I was tired, I just couldn't stop yawning.

I told the girl I was training with I was going to run for a chocolaty treat. Maybe escaping the cube will work out whatever is screwing with my biochemistry. I'm passing thru all the god forsaken security to get to the vending machine. (My building being something like Fort Knox.) My brain is on overdrive trying to figure out what's wrong with me. Yawning that much, there must be something wrong. I'm not tired. I'm not bored. God, what if it's my ADD? What if my brain is looking for distraction.. hence me walking to get chocolate. Bah! I'm not going to let this happen! My ADD was a major problem for me in my last job.. I'm determined this won't happen again here... as I drop quarters in the machine.

I spot the M&M's ... oh yeah baby.. come to momma. I punch D5, and watch as the little coil dispenses my chocolate savior....the coil stops spinning, and my M&M's are left hanging in limbo. Are you fucking serious?!?! I pat my pockets for more change.. nothing.. and I'm sure the hell not walking back thru three security check points to get more.. and this damn machine is not going to stand in my way of chocolate!

Grabbing the top the the machine, I use all my newly defined muscles (going to the gym is really paying off) to shake the machine. Artfully crafted strings of profanities slipping from my lips. *Shake*.. *bang*..motherfucker...

"Ma'am did you know that breaking and entering is illegal in all 50 states?"

I glance over my shoulder, and there stands a security guard looking at my like I should be locked away in a mental prison... (perhaps he's not wrong.)

"It took my money." I said, still rattling the machine.

"That's what they are supposed to do." says the guard.

Ohhh buddy ol' pal.. aren't you just a wise ass, right now is NOT the time to fuck with me. "Yeah, but it didn't give me.. " grunting and resorting to hip checking the machine..."my M&M's."

"Ma'am I'm gonna have to ask you stop assaulting the machine."

I look at him unbelievably,  "Seriously?!? All I want are my M&freakingM's.. not to mention.. The M&freakingM's that I PAID FOR!"

He holds his hands out in front of him, in what I'm assuming is a soothing gesture, the one that says calm-the-fuck-down. "Whoa calm down ma'am. Let's not escalate the violence of this incident."

I decide i was never one for "authority" and  go back to my "violent" act against the machine. Then I hear the distinctive sound of two way radio static. "I've got a hostile employee in the south corridor.. requesting back up."

Let's recap. I'm standing in a hallway. A hallway at my brand new, high security job. I'm pissed right the fuck off because my M&M's are stuck. Oh, and lets not forget the security guard who just "requested back up" because I'm "hostile".

Rage is just bubbling in my system. Doesn't this crack pot know that you should never.. never ever.. in any circumstance stand between a woman and her chocolate? At this point, I'm thinking I have one of two options. 1. I take this guy out. He's a balding, middle aged, rent-a-cop. Oh yeah, I could definitely beat him unconscious, then use his body as a battering ram to free my M&M's. 2. I could egg him.

Seeing as I didn't have any eggs readily available and my quest for chocolate was too significant, option 1 was my only option. He was a little guy, small bones, beer belly, and a nightstick. I didn't care much about his weapon, I was looking to incapacitate him. Oh yeah, you lil pip squeak, you done fucked with me at the wrong time. I started setting my body up to deliver a round house kick that Chuck Norris would be proud of when a laughter floats from behind me.

And this is were my talent as a writer goes completely down the drain. I would love to spin you some action packed story about how I ninja'ed him into submission, and dragged his body into a dark closet, then I had to mission impossible it back to my cube... but my story is not that entertaining...

Turns out the guards saw me having a hissy all over the candy machine.. and decided to have a little fun. While I'm dying to see the recorded security footage, I was pissed right the fuck off at the time..

Never-ever come between me chocolate, and orgasms.

        

Monday morning. 8:30. I'm sitting in my car trying to disarm the ticking time bomb in my stomach. Resting my forehead on the steering wheel, I let out a long sigh. You can do this Ryleigh. First days are always the roughest. Take slow breaths, and think soothing thoughts. It's only an office full of people you've never met. This is where you shine. Meeting new people with graceful ease is your strong point. Slow breaths, and soothing thoughts.

I knock back the rest of my green tea in one swallow, and start my journey to the front door. Head up, check. Shoulders back, check. Playful, all knowing smile, check. Confidence or some fake semblance of, check. Long, powerful, deliberate stride, check. Clickity-clack of pretentious bitch boots, check.

I made it to meet The Boss and all my new co-workers without any serious mishaps, like tripping over shit, not keeping my potty mouth in check, or just making an ass out of myself in general.

8 hours, 529 yawns and 5 attention grabbing-shiny-things later, it was time to go home. I survived the first day, what the hell was I so nervous about?

Tuesday. 7:30. Equipped with one gifuckingnormous mug of green tea. I will not, NOT be tired today! *yawn*

Wednesday.*yawn* Purple Victoria Secret pant worn. Purple pants! Purple pants! Purple Pants! I totally rocked the purple pants.
New pet peeves discovered: *yawn*
1. I do NOT appreciate a warm toilet seat.
2. When someone says "It's very case sensitive." Seriously? How is something very case sensitive? That's like saying, "Water is very wet."
purplepantspurplepantspurplepantspurplepants!!!!!

Oh and... margaritas weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

Thursday. 5:30 a.m. The discovery that my little trendy oriental market sold me caffeine free green tea. Choked down three cups of extremely sweet coffee, and.... zooooooooooooooooooooom.
Three things that my computer says to make me cringe:
1. User name/password incorrect (that caps lock key is a sneaky little booger)
2. This web page cannot be displayed
3. ..... and something else equally as aggravating.

Friday. Eavesdropped on my supervisors phone conversation where she proceeded to rave about how "impressed" she is with me.
Figured out I do not like any sort of "chain of command." If there's a problem, I want to fix it.. not tell my supervisor, then she alerts her supervisor, who contacts the IT department, and then they contact someone else who can provide a solution. Yes, I totally have the "I'll do it myself" mentality.

Overall the week went well. I spent a good portion of time unraveling the twisted web of office dynamics. There's so much estrogen brewing in that place, I think my boobs got bigger. Everyone is extremely sweet, cheerful, and generally fun loving ladies. (There is not one man in my office) One role does seem to be missing, a role that was made for me, and a role that I know I can fill with out a shadow of a doubt... The role of the office bitch.