A Naked Bitch Is Worth 1000 Words

Charlotte Sometimes, guest reviewer here.

First, let's start off with a warning you can all ignore in true badass fashion. The blog I reviewed today is NSFW. Which is Not Safe For Work for those of you playing along at home. Or at work, I guess. Don't view it in front of your kiddos. You will be paying for endless amounts of therapy beyond what is now required for most booger-faced rugrats being raised out there. She has positioned a large disclaimer at the top calling it mild adult content.

I personally have a different definition of mild. Her definition of mild must resemble something along the lines of telling your grandmother to go fuck herself during the Sunday morning pancake feed held in the church gym after the local preacher wraps up the weekly sermon.

With that being said, you don't know me and I don't know you. While that lends a sort of lonely freedom, it certainly doesn't give me any credibility. Trust me you'll get over that and your life will be better for it. I will tell you a co-worker told me I was hateful the other day. Being that he nailed my best quality in one shared observation, my feelings on today’s blog should be no surprise.

When I was initially asked to do a review for Ask I damn near wet myself. It was like being asked to smoke on school property by that dangerous boy that wears eyeliner and sits in the back of the class. I didn't wet myself though, I crossed my legs and managed to maintain a small shred of dignity. That little tiny shred caved in on itself and blew away in the breeze the second I laid my eyes on 1000 Words. I don't think Naked Lara, as I like to call her, has ever crossed her legs.

Ever.

After the shock wore off, I climbed out of the fetal position and got down to business. Lara apparently likes to get down to business too. Hey, you can't hate the girl for it. What I can hate her for is making me repeatedly view shot after shot of her ass that bears not a trace of a stretch mark even though she claims in her About Me that her life mostly consists of carpooling, kid duties and typical housewife 'stuff' among other things. Other things being snapping interesting angles of her holiest of holies.

I'm not a housewife but I'm pretty damn sure it must be a tight schedule with all the personal grooming and excessive shower photo shoots between loads of laundry and cleaning up graham crackers off the floor. The funny thing is Lara isn't a housewife either. She's not bored or lonely. She works nearly full-time on top of all her dirty bird antics like being naked on the stove and the mothering of offspring.

I don't know about you but I'm not eating the mac and cheese at this broad's house.

Maybe that's just me. I have been known to be delusional. My obvious bitterness aside, her template is really just her, all naked and shit. Her header is butt ugly, there is a large and very necessary disclaimer, her side bar is full of your typical stupid shit and flashy, blinky, seizure-inducing things. However, she has impeccable taste in the blogs she chooses to read. At least, according to her blogroll, she does.

Right off the bat, I was entirely confused. The very first post I read was schizophrenic, seemingly dirty and I think you had to be there to understand it. Frankly, I'm glad I wasn't there.

Moving on because I just couldn't wade through that bullshit, her next post held some sort of promise by letting us know her ass hurts. Thanks for the news flash. Naked Lara goes on to say that we're pervs for thinking the obvious.

Right.

We're the pervs.

Self-awareness is more than knowing what your tenderoni looks like. Trust me. And I do know what mine looks like.

To be entirely honest I had a really hard time reading the posts but regardless of what I just said about self-awareness, Lara does have it. There were some almost clever moments. And really she can write. She punctuates better than I do and she can string her sentences together well. She's a responsible parent as witnessed here.

Naked Lara ends each post with a hug. I cringe inside and hope that she is dressed while she's hugging me, but still, the hug is nice. I'm all for naked hugging, just not from other people's mothers.

Thinking about it that sounds like I might like naked hugs from my mother and I don't. Not even that one time.

So let's recap because I have a short attention span that not even mommy smut can keep attentive. She's naked, she's a mother, her template makes me hurl and/or punch myself in my cute little face and she's human.

So what.

My real problem with 1000 Words is that the soft core porn shots and the majority of the content don't jive. They just don't go together. That might be what she's aiming for. I felt like she's saying she's a mom but she's a sex kitten too. Or maybe she just loves her own fur-cookie, I don't know. I don't really care either. I'm not hating on the naked. I just don't like to mix my naked with my momma bloggin' if you know what I mean. Not that she is a mommy blogger. She's a mom, she blogs, whatever. For the most part I was bored and the weird mix of my stomach turning from seeing her shave her love muffin and the yawn inducing slice of life posts left me feeling disoriented. And not the good kind of disoriented that 12-bottles of domestic gives me.

Half the blog appeals to grown men sitting in their mother's basement and the other to people who read kind of boring blogs. I just don't get it. Are you a naughty girl or a housewife? I demand that you choose. I'm not deep enough to think you could be both. I thought for a moment that her husband must be a happy man but then on second thought he probably would just like her to stay naked and shut up.

Anything that's hard for me to read at work doesn't work for me and my slacker tendencies and the posts didn't hold my interest. My best advice here is to clean up your template and think about creating a separate blog for your dirty, dirty ways. Anyone who is interested in what you write about would not be interested in your ill-na-nah.

Just saying.

Lara, you're all flash and no fire.

With that I have officially run out colorful descriptive terms for vaginas, twats and crotches. I don't hate June Cleaver on crack enough to give her the flaming finger and frankly, I think she'd like it. And I really don't fucking love her.

Once the shock value wore off I was left feeling slightly violated and less than entertained. I would give her a star or two for her writing but the weird duality she has going on just makes me say: