Goodnight Finger Goodnight

It has been a long time since I have talked to all my lovelies... and "Finger" has decided to officially retire.

BUT... the new me has started a new blog full of life, love and relocation...

My new home is http://penguin-poop.blogspot.com/

Come on over, share my daily crazy life... now living in... dun dun dun... CHICAGO!

Love you muffins...

signing out...

finger.

What's a Single Girl to do When Faced with Table #9?

Your own little Finger has found herself in an interesting little quandary while nestled here in good old Jersey. What has she gotten herself into this time, you may ask. Well, let me tell you, she would reply. And so I will...

The magical Kingdom has decided to hold a ball. A ball to celebrate the joining of two young people in matrimonial bliss, or the effects there of. While Maid Finger was being wooed by one Sir Wrong Again, she agreed to attend said ball in her best fineries. Unfortunately, now that the Ball is less then a fortnight away, Finger has realized breaking up with Sir Wrong Again may have been done in haste since she is now partnerless and a poor practiced designated driver.

"But Maid Finger, doest not thou mingle like the dickens, spreading your glee through out the lands with buts the twinkle of thee eye?" Why, yes, my fair cohorts, I do have the knack for hobnobbing. Although, Finger's jousting happens to be a little thrown off since the only attendees the maiden happens to know are the Prince, Princess and Maid of Honor. Fairy Godmother seems to have overdose on the Schnapps and is now sleeping it off in the linen closet with Xaviera the butler. So, what is a fair maiden to do?

A small pixie I may resemble, but delicate flower I am not. This will not be the first Wedding I get the privilege of attending alone. So, the question remains, should I suck it up, growing an even bigger pair of balls and buy the sluttiest dress I can find to make my debut at the Ball of Table #9, or should I run like a mad woman to find some poor schmuck to drag down with me?

PS - as always taking applications for a knight in shining armour with the stipulation of death, maiming and/or dismembership if said Knight fails in his duties. Spanking is encouranged.

Lunchtime Quickies, the only way to be satisified properly

There is special little place in my heart reserved for a certain man that takes my breath away every time he slides in between my salivating lips. His smoothness under my hands excites me as I wonder just how he fits in my mouth regardless of how large I make him get. My eyes grow as I try to decide where to start devouring him, my hands practically shaking from control. His two friends sit inconspicuously behind him, waiting for some attention and I feel giddy as my eyes twinkly. Once I am finished I just lay back my hand wiping my lips and smile devilishly as I look over my conquest. Until, next time my love, until next time.

Joey Bag Full of Donuts has my back no matter what and I happily fall into his burrito trap every time I hear the tingle inducing sound of "Welcome to Moe's!" And when he's tired from pleasing me in every way possible, I can always fall back on good old lefty Billy Baru to show me a good time.

Although our lunch time quickie's are short they always leave me satisfied and wanting another go. I surprised Joey yesterday when I brought a friend and she invited Billy. A lunch snack to remember!

The Dating Game... You decide who's right for Finger... I give up!

I have an abnormal personality. No wait... don't do the, "awe Finger, no, you're great, you have nothing to worry about" crap. I know I'm a little screwy in the head, but I'm okay with it because I always thought that was part of my Charming Finger Appeal. So how am I a little screwy you may be wondering? Well grab yourself some Nestles Morsels and hunker down for a little Psych 101...

I love making people happy.

...well, that's kind of it. I would say I'm a people pleaser, but that's not exactly it. If you piss me off I'll kick your ass till my foot bleeds. But people I love; I would bend over backwards for them until my back broke and then give them that chunk of back as a remembrance naming it Stan. So, I've spent the first 28 years of my life in the constant struggle between doing what I know people want me to do and doing what I want to do, the latter rarely winning this death match.

Now, as I give in and devour a retched Mega Kit Kat, I stare at my computer screen contemplating where to begin in my sordid tale of lies, deceit and cross dressing button lickers.

I've decided to begin at the end. That's right I never do anything normal so why start here. Lets keep the past the past and make a new bright, shiny, baby butt future! I'm vowing off loser men! You hear me half-wit, narcissistic, egomaniacle, slothful, ass lickers?

Why do we let ourselves get hurt when we could just have better screening processes? So, in the spirit of experimentation and bettering relationship-kind, I have decided to set in motion a new chain of psychotic ideas. The next time I meet a man that is interested, I am going to view it as a screening process, asking all the logical questions that later bite me in the ass. Then I will post it here, so you my lovelies can determine for me if he is worthy or not. Since I have been making horrible decisions for the last 28 years, why not give the reading public a go at it, right?

Let the games BEGIN!

Hot Red Jeep Man... where have you been all my life?

Feeling not up to my full Finger self this morning, I started my long-ass morning drive with what felt like a small rodent sucking on my merriment (maybe ferret sized not quite beaver big). My caboose wasn't in gear and I was worried it would just get worse as the day went on... sinking me into a dark hole of fanged clowns and knife wielding crack whores.

As I threw my change into the toll booth (one of the many ways good old Jersey manages to rape me every day), I noticed a Red Jeep coming up fast on my freshly raped ass, speeding through the toll sans quarters and cutting me off as we merged onto the parkway. As Jeep Man passed I gave him a "die in a pile of maggot encrusted flesh eating bacteria infested razors" look and he looked back with at me with the general lightness of a douche bag cutting of a girl who can't drive.

Being the true Jersey girl I am, I decided to speed up, cut off five other cars, drive behind Jeep Man and ride his ass just as one is required to do. Eventually I got sick of my vengeful plot and tried to weave my way around the meandering morning drivers. Failing in my attempt at driving genius I fell back a little and found myself side by side with Jeep Man. He looked over and smirked, then sped up and shot ahead.

Umm... one moment to address the audience... attention I am breaking the third wall: WTF! Did he just taunt me?! Is he playing with me?!?!!! Are we 12 and he's going to punch me in the arm and run away??! Wait... larger question... was he totally hot!??!

I resume my spot behind his questionable motived backside and continue my drive. At this point Rage Against the Machine is shrieking out rhythmic violence and my mood as changed to either wanting to kick someone in the ass or spank someones ass... the jury was still out. As I'm bobbing my head to the music I fail to notice Jeep Man has been next to me and starring directly through my window... I speed up and finally take the lead. Victorious! Suck it hot Jeep Man!

This game is continued for the next 5 exits until the next tolls loom ahead where I get stuck behind a delivery truck and Jeep Man floors it zooming past me. Assuming my morning fun has ended I merge onto the express way and settle in for some bumper kissing traffic. To my surprise I happen to glance over the the local lanes and see none other then Jeep Man smirking at me from across the divide... he gives a little wave and I can't help but giggle at this ridiculous moment as I wiggle my fingers right back and step on my gas never to see him again.

So to you Hot Red Jeep Man, thank you for removing the suckling rodent and making my day shiny and new. I'll play tag with you any day!

Memphis... The Blues Never Made Me So Happy

A trip to Memphis...

A while ago a made a life list... a corny little list of things to do before I am 30 (so I had a moment of weakness, even Jack Nicholson has made that mistake). Well... I officially have 1 year 11 months and 26 days left to finish said "list" and I'm trying to get my tiny jean clad behind in motion. So, last week I grabbed a few bags, packed way to many clothes, kidnapped my best friend kwizbee and decided to do a road trip! I was going to grab the damn bull by his damn horns... suck the lemon till the last drop... strangle the Cock 'till it crows... ok you get the point.

17 hours and 57 minutes after leaving Jersey we stepped onto the crowded streets of Memphis and breathed in the BBQ, Blues and teeming history pulsing through Beale Street. It was like entering a new Country without the passport and sweaty Italian man pressed against you in baggage claim. The first two days were spent eating, dancing, singing, relaxing, and just enjoying the town. Unfortunately, by the end of day 2 the heavens decided to open and pour down on us partier's like an old women without her Depends. Did we let this dampen out spirits? Hell NO! We're from Jersey bitches! We can last through a hurricane with out lipstick still intact and for our efforts the sun started to shine just a little for us to hear enough music to last a lifetime.

So, to give a condensed version on this life list fulfilling road trip destination, let me share a Best Of list with you of my wet days on Beale Street (damn I wish they were wet in that way, but get your mind outta that gutter, I meant the rain).

Best of Beale Street:

1. Ms. Zeno Louisiana Mojo Queen. I'm a tiny woman, at only 5', I'm thin and usually dress to show it off. Although, upon entering this town I realized I was NOT going to be getting a lot of play from the local meat. Wandering through the streets I quickly got lost amount the large women of Beale Street, these ladies were owning every inch of their bodies and all the men wanted was to lick those inches right there. I was out of my league when it came to junk in my... well everything. The women made me was to snap my fingers and yell work it girl like a gay man in a Robin Williams film. But, there always must be a down side in all Bootylicious-Sociological advances and I think the following statement sums that up nicely: I have seen way to many Vagina's in the last 2 weeks. Big and Beautiful does NOT mean half naked and wheezing. Dresses should not be worn outside of the house unless they actually cover your whoha! Easy access is one thing, but when a small child tries to stick a toy up there while your standing on the street... not so attractive. As my brain swam with the glutinous buffet of spandex clad rolls and high heeled potential Ladies of the Night, there was one woman who stood out all on her own: Ms. Zeno Louisiana Mojo Queen. She was the lead singer of her band and she knew how to rock every note and every man in the audience. I watched her singer everyday, bought her album, and am still humming Shot Gun... oh and Kwizbee's goal is to have enough money next time so she lets him place it in her ample bosom. Dirty Boy.
2. After trying almost every restaurant on Beale street and some off, we have determined... dun dun dun... the best pork goes to ... Pig on Beale! Seriously guys, you made me have a pork-gasm... my only action the whole trip. Tip to all my single male readers: If a platter of "Pig's" pork is brought to Finger, she will do many naughty acts as repayment.
3. Best Rainy day activity regardless of you locations... BAR AND POOL! Seriously, nachos, beer and/or margarita and a nice game of pool can save any day from the crapper. Kwizbee and I ducked into the pool hall and settled down for a nice friendly wager enhanced game of pool. The stakes... loser pumps gas the entire way back to Jersey... winner gets to gloat. Just before our game of pool began Kwizbee ran back to the hotel to get a cigar and I set up the table. I noticed an older man starring at me at the table across. He was there with what seemed to be his wife and my skin started to crawl slightly as he eerily looked over every time his wife went for her shot. This posts a question... (i realize im going off on a tangent, but hello it's me! you should just be glad im not talking about pros and cons of sex with condiments) ...men, why can't you just pay attention to the girl your with??? I realize you have probably been married or dating forever, and her parts may not be as high and perky as some of the other young fillies in the room, but seriously... we don't want you! Keep your eyes forward buddy before I stick this pool stick is your NoNo zone! Have some respect for your girls or leave them... wandering eyes are NOT attractive grandpa!
4. Best strange food... fried pickles... Dear Fried Pickle, Your semi greasy yet seductively flaky outside crinkles under my tongue as i place you in my mouth. Your body hums as I run you across my teeth gauging then tautness of your flesh. I bite into you and feel you slightly juicy in my mouth, I sigh at your tangy salty flavor and I swallow you down ready for another. I love you fried pickle and I always will. Sincerely Yours, Finger.
5. Every single band on Beale Street has a resident drunkin fat dancing man that come with them. Like Barbie has her dream house, Ryan Seacrest has his botox and Amy Winehouse has her crack pipe... the bands have a dancing fool who makes each performance a true event. There were 3 or four men who would rotate at any given moment...In order of entertainment 3. Angry Dude... this guy would lift his shirt patting his large stomach, stand next to the singer while he tried to play and try to dance with all the women and when they inevitable said no fling his hands through the air while giving them the evil eye of somethings gone rotten. 2. Old Crooked Dancer... dressed in a thin tight tshirt resting just above his stomach, red suspenders, and a sweat headband he would bobb up and down to every beat whilst the performer looked on in wonderment. and our winners... 1. The Tag Team... like a black and white cookie, these two men would grab ladies from the audience and make them dance with their uncoordinated and horribly unattractive serves while onlookers laughed and handed over tips for their interesting dancing abilities. Why did they win? There was 2! and they might not have even been drunk!
6. Most heart touching and life enhancing moments... the Civil Rights Museum. Everyone should visit this and see history without the sugar coatings of movies and Schools. It took every part of me not to cry, and it had the beautiful ability to make you appreciate everything we normally take for granted.

This is a town where people of all ethnicity and background can come together and just enjoy music and each other. It will always have a little piece of my heart and Kwizbee and I plan to make this road trip every year.

Road trip completed with candy cigarettes, blues cds and kwizbee playing the harmonica all the way back to Jersey.

Maybe you can fuck a grapefruit... but you can't fuck me.

Charlie: [about having meaningless sex with many women] It's not that satisfying.

Stu: I'll tell you not satisfying. Last night I masturbated into a grapefruit. I put it into a microwave and heated it up a little bit, which helped, but... still.

- Line from Good Luck Chuck

So that may NOT be how my night started exactly but it sure felt that way at the end...

I was spending a night out with my friends in Atlantic City and I realized (based on the company I was with) I needed to up the ante on my "slut" for the night. I would be partying with some "North Jersey" Girls and these girls were serious about their clubs. Always up for a challenge, I donned my best "starts at the bottom of my ass" skin tight outfit, curled up my hair, glossed my lips and went clicking in my slutty heels down the Tropicana hallways.

After general pre-gaming in the hotel room (which included: copious amounts of Jack and coke, overly exuberant SuperBad movie quotes, and spankings all around), we headed out to a sports bar called Game-On. Upon entering I noticed it filled to the max with Bennies* as far as the eye could see.

*Bennies = Tourists from North Jersey/NY that look like a Guido with umpa lumpa skin paint, popped collars and/or white eyeshadow.

If I had to see another popped collar, gold chain, spiked hair and Italian flag I was going to hurl all over my strappy sandals. Remembering I always try to make the best of every night, I decided what could be better way to break in the evening then dancing on a stage? Nothing! So I wiggled my little butt over to the bouncer and said "where do you want me?" To my surprise and possible disappointment, since my brain was saying, "what are you doing, you're not a dumb slut, get down and put on a coat!", he said I have just the place for you...

Two seconds later he was helping me up a pedestal located at the entrance of the club... "Well, Finger, you got yourself into this, don't be a dweeb now, you better make this look good." Crap, thanks brain for bailing on me. So what's a Jersey girl do when she finds herself on a stage in a club? That's right, DANCE!

Ok, temporary reality break here, dancing on a stage about 2 feet wide in 4 inch heels and a skirt that ends at you ass: Hard as Hell! Props to you GoGo dancers... I was dizzy as hell!

Back to our regularly scheduled story...

The night continued as a swirling mix of dances, shots, mechanical bull riding's and humorous jokes. At one point, after having been hoisted up on the bar to dance one last time, I was approached by a fellow partier who felt the need to comment on my dancing skills. After thanking him and quickly scurrying off I started to wonder... are people REALLY trying to find other people in clubs? So, I asked a few of my friends what they think can come from going to a club and meeting someone of the opposite sex and I noticed a pattern emerging. All the girls felt it was possible to find a person to date and possibly marry in a club and all the guys said... I just want to get laid. Soooo.. girls... just say no! and guys... if you want to get laid, have a relationship or just not get slapped try talking to a girl for real. Stop complimenting my eye, ass, hair, smile, etc. We hear that all the time. Why don't you actually try being funny, witty, interesting... Put some work into it damn it! Let the girl see you're making an effort and maybe you'll get some ass!

Dirty. Naughty. Manly. Rough. Spanking. All Required to Ride This Train. Where have the Manly Men gone?

I like to think of myself as having somewhat or a realistic-feministic view on life. I don't think women and men are equal (one has a penis one has a vagina hello?!), but I do think we are both equally amazing in our own ways. Each are better then the other in different areas and that's what makes us all sexy awesome bitches.

Now on to more interesting matters... I've been having a horribly randy mess of a problem. Its been approximately 7 months since my last "fling" (oh the horrible mess of Senor Casanova ew!) and I'm a randy beast! Yes that's right readers a randy beast. To your possible surprise, yes girls get frisky too after a long dry spells. Especially if your last drink was just a sip.

So, since I have had LOTS of time to think about what I would like someone to do to me, I have also realized that I seem to be provocatively stripping in front of a large road block. What is said road block exactly? Road Block = The Looming Extinction of "The Manly Man". What is The Manly Man you may be asking yourself? Well, let me try to define him.

The Manly Man:

A large imposing character who you're not sure if you should be intimidated by or want to wrestle to the bed, can look devastatingly seductive in a tshirt and jeans (not knowing said jeans would-be "designer") yet can put on a suit and actually fill it out, spends less time getting ready then any girl yet still has that rough sexy look, knows how to give a girl a good spank and rogering in a deliciously good way, isn't scared to be a little rough with his personality and in bed, is smart yet doesn't flaunt it while prancing around the office with his balls between his legs, can be sensitive when the situation calls for it without growing his own vagina, can make you laugh without making a fool of himself, and finally... knows how to treat a girl like a woman.

Some may think at first glance... you're describing a neanderthal who has no emotion and just wants to club you over the head and drag you into his cave. And to those people I say two things:

1. The ability to balance the animal-istic manly personality with a realistically emotional/intelligent personality is exactly what makes him so elusive.
2. Who doesn't want a hot man to drag them into a hot steamy sex fantasy? Club away!

So, I've got it down, I know what I want... step 1 complete. Now the problem rears its thin, orange, overly manscaped head. This world is overrun with The Mangina/Metrosexuals! I couldn't find a real man if I hung naked from a tree!* So, dilemma dilemma... what's a girl to do? Is it to much to ask to want a guy to have an intellectual conversation with me and then carry me to my room for a good spanking? Hm, seems to be.

*Internet props out to the only two Manly Men I happen to know... @kwizbee & @mrflossy

A French Man talks about Sex

So, my company hired an intern from France last week. Never having met a French man in real life I was curious to see what he would be like. Would he be able to handle a Jersey girls loud mouth, my girl's lunchtime antics or a violent thrashing if he got out of hand? Well Frenchy entered leaking his "Frenchness" all of the room with his pointy leather boots, fitted white dress shirt, and thin dark jeans. If there was any chance you didn't know instantly he was European then you had to be a half brained twit. He introduced himself as Laurewhalsfdirlhausylt.... or that's how I heard him pronounce his name and instantly received the easily pronounced nickname Frenchy.

Frenchy turned out to be very open, nice and friendly, to my admitted surprise! I thought our first lunchtime adventure and discussions were sure to scare away our French friend, but he stood strong, giggled a few times and astonishingly came back for more. Possible Reasons to continually interact with us?
Glutton for punishment? Most likely.
We are just insanely awesome? Highly Possible.

Frenchy, once told about this very blog, agreed to be my resident French Man, which developed a nice little section I like to call: Ask Frenchy!

After sending out a little Twitter we received some questions and comments from all you lovely wonderful sugar and naughtiness filled readers out there. So, what next? Well, we asked Frenchy of course!

First Stats:
Name: Frenchy
Height: Averagely tall
Weight: Thin (could I damage him? highly possible)
Relationship Status: Newly Single
Age: 23
Bonus Round: He's wearing a Yankees hat +20 points

Second, Questions:
Finger: What do you think about American Girls?

Frenchy: They are friendly and cool.

Finger: But what do you think about them?

Frenchy: Oh ok... They are more open minded and physical. Something they do, they can date many guys at the same time. You can be dating a girl for a while and still not be her boyfriend. I was out on a date with a girl, we went to dinner then directly she expected to have sex, and for me we could just wait. It was a little to fast for me.
(Finger's mental thoughts: but you still had the sex.)
So American girls are faster. It's what makes them hot (to other cultures).

Finger: So what's the difference between sex with French women and sex with Americans?

Frenchy: Americans are crazier and faster.

Finger: Is that a bad or good thing?

Frenchy: It's good, but sometimes it's better to wait a little before sex.

Finger: Ok.

Frenchy: Oh oh oh! and BIG difference, American girls are screamers.

Finger: Ummmm.... what exactly did you just say?

Frenchy: They are screamers. I am a quiet lover, but American girl scream, they scream like amazing. Do you scream?

Finger: Ummmmm....

Frenchy: Do you scream?

Finger: Ummm.... sure, if the occasion calls for it.

Frenchy: Maid Andi, do you scream?

Maid Andi: *blush*

Frenchy: oh she's blushing again.

Finger: That means yes. Yes, Frenchy, we are all big screamers!

So in closing, if you have any question for dear Frenchy, please let me know. He is on call 24-7, waiting with baited breath. And Frenchy ends the round with +10 bonus points for making all of us girls blush and admit to screaming good times.
PS: I also have some American men on call to answer any questions from foreign women! lol!

Half Naked is Half Naked... rotting flesh and all!

Ok men, I know you like boobies and all, but doesn't it matter if those boobs are on a live person?

Check out: http://www.myzombiepinup.com/

Looks like it's time for some zombie love makin'!

This poses a valid question... will guys really sleep with anything? If you are really horny, will you just put a paper bag over it and go to town??? Hmmm... and how far is to far? We talking Sandra Bernhardt or Kathy Kinney (from the Drew Crey Show)?