‘I say fuck a lot’ might be the understatement of the year.

October 28, 2023 :: 8:36 AM

I just like the word fuck.

I stumbled upon this completely fucking adorable book on Thursday and DEVOURED it on Friday, since I didn’t have anything (not a single fucking thing and not an exaggeration) to do at work.

Upside Down by N.R. Walker completely captured the asexual relationship I was trying to write perfectly. So, that’s totally my roadmap if I ever go back to that fic.

I’ve gotten into the habit of taking screenshots of my favourite bits as I come across them, and this one?

Holy. Fucking. Shitballs. Batman.

Thankfully, I got to this part at lunchtime. (Or unfortunately?) I laughed so hard, I choked on my sandwich.

It was doubly hysterical because I’d just gotten done having (roughly) the same conversation about my usage of the word with a coworker.

Fuck is one of those amazing words that fits just about any sentence. Intonation fills in the blanks that context doesn’t, too.

It’s just a fucking magical word.

- - - - - - - - - -

I am still riding the high from the Антитіла show.

I might still be watching the videos I took.

And I might still be listening to their albums and only their albums. At this rate, their music will be my Wine & Dine soundtrack.

Fuck my BPM playlist.

While I’m on the topic of live bands and concerts, next up is KALUSH. I’ve already seen them this year, but I do like the chaotic energy of their live shows. They remind me of Studio 158 and Gabe setting fire to his trumpet back in the day. It was always fun hanging with Scott-the-Roadie and getting to see the backstage shenanigans.

Hey, Mr. Soundman, I think there’s something on fire.

But anyway.

I forgot to mention that when I see SKOFKA in February that he’s splitting the bill with two other artists. One of which is KOZAK SIROMAHA. You might remember him from the video on this post. I might be looking forward to seeing him just as much as SKOFKA. (And what is up with the caps? KALUSH, SKOFKA, KOZAK SIROMAHA… *sigh*)

WHY THE FUCK is half the music I want to buy not available on the iTunes store? This might make me a shitty person, and probably a thief, but I’ve reverted to using Audio Hijack and pulling the audio off of YouTube. I mean, how do you add a YouTube video to a running playlist?

So… that’s my day sorted: pulling music off of YouTube, creating a new Ukie music running playlist, and world building.

Somehow, Aeon Timeline shit the bed and fucked up my hockey schedules. The dates have all shifted and it’s the weirdest thing. I’ve been using AT since version 1 and beta tested v2 (sort of - I didn’t have a lot of reasons to use it during the beta period but I did download it and play with it.)... I have never had a problem with it. NEVER.

But, you know, there’s only 82 hockey games in a season, and like 6 preseason games… for two teams. Granted, I ‘borrowed’ the schedules from Montreal and Boston, but they still had to be entered by hand because I couldn’t export them to a csv file or anything remotely useful. Annoyed doesn’t begin to describe my current mood. It is such a pain in the ass to go back and fix them.

And it’s not even getting the scheduled dates correct. It’s about remembering that for a 19:00 game, the players have to be there at 16:30 and they spend about 5 hours at the arena. There were a couple of games where the time shifted, too. So I had to do the fucking maths AGAIN to make sure I was getting the game day timeframe correct.

I’ve never been part of a team where the players didn’t play shinny somewhere in the arena as part of their warmup, so that’s an important detail I’m not leaving out, nor the fact that usually the ‘puck’ is a tennis ball. In college, sometimes the boys played with a ball of stick tape. The first time they did it was during a road trip because SOMEONE forgot a tennis ball (apparently, I only had ONE JOB and it wasn’t worrying about the boxed lunches, the uniforms, the extra blades, sticks, torches, the water jugs/bottles, nor the skate sharpener…). Joke’s on them, though, because they enjoyed whipping the tape at each other. Don’t think I didn’t notice that they played with the tape more than once. Even when I remembered the fucking tennis ball.

- - - - - - - - - -

I never seem to talk about when englishing is not hard and the words go good, but I am SO HAPPY with this that I’m going to share this as a reminder that I’m not a completely shitty writer…

Families are messy. It’s one thing when the people who are supposed to build you up only want to tear you down. It’s another thing entirely when the people who are supposed to love you can’t fucking stand the sight of you.

Write what you know, right?

- - - - - - - - - -

And finally, this is my new favourite song. Enjoy.


If the words won’t come, make the characters.

October 21, 2023 :: 10:18 AM

the secret to a successful nanowrimo is porn. lots of it.

As I’ve said before, I’ve never been the type of person who creates an outline and a plot.

I’ve been plotting like a madwoman. Pages and pages of plot bunnies. It’s insane.

Who knew writing a hockey au would actually be enjoyable?

We all know my history with hockey and how the last experience absolutely fucking broke me. (Still broken after all these years, thanks. Vegas put a nice band-aid on my boo-boo, though.)

So… it’s been weird to actually dig into things like the NHL’s Collective Bargaining Agreement and the Rule Book.

To remember things I thought I’d forgotten.

A skate blade to the back, the severed pinky, the slapshot to the nuts (the player was NOT wearing a cup… but that’s a story for another day.), the singing on the bus, Cooperstown, the dentist fixing a broken nose, the Stanley Cup, the octopus… that fucking mascot.

Reading all these stupid hockey romances has reminded me what it’s like to be part of the team, not part of the back office.

And THAT is where my love of the sport truly lives.

In the camaraderie of the players. Not the knowledge of how to write the Salary Cap journal entries.

I almost watched a Bruins game the other night.


But before I could change the channel, I had a panic attack and decided it was safer to watch Simmers on YouTube.

I’ll get back to being able to watch the games and probably sooner rather than later.

But in the meantime, I’ve noticed some other things that are changing.

- The hubby took care of Guinness, not me. And G wasn’t a cuddle pup. He was sort of detached, aloof. I take care of the kittens and they are not like that at all. Sophie is still ridiculously skittish, but holy shit. When she wants love, she will NOT be denied. I need Sophie lovin’ more than I would have thought possible. Finn’s, too, although he’s grown way more independent.

- I’ve been listening to Bowie and the Stones. A LOT. I’ve struggled with their music in the past because they remind me of people who ripped me apart and then stomped on the pieces. Somehow, I’ve managed to get past that. Although, I do not recommend singing Star Star at work because it is very NSFW... whoops.

OH! Fun fact: R.E.M.‘s “Star Me Kitten” is named Star Me Kitten because of “Star Star”. Another fun fact: It is one of the very few R.E.M. songs that uses the word fuck.

- I’ve also been listening to a playlist I call BLG. BLG are the initials of the one, the only, Soulmate Boy and it’s all music I associate with him. Some of it is great for running and, I don’t know, kind of… comforting? Yeah, that’s the word I keep coming back to.

- I’m becoming less afraid to go places on my own. This became a HUGE issue after moving to Florida and then having the whole pandemic thing happen. I certainly don’t have the kind of life I had in New England, and I fucking miss it, but I’m trying to make a life here. Finally.


- - - - - - - - - -

And for something completely unrelated, I finally got my two breathing tests done AND scored a follow-up with the pulmonologist before Wine and Dine. (I couldn’t get an appointment with the doc until DECEMBER. I lucked out when there was a cancellation for next week.)

I failed. Miserably.

So, exercise-induced asthma is real and not in my head.

That actually makes me feel better.

I have an inhaler, but it’s not working for me. The therapist who did the test thinks I’ll respond better to steroids, but didn’t go into more details. Google’s not telling me much, so I’m excited to have the follow up so soon. Nothing new on race day… except asthma meds. Should be an interesting weekend.


- - - - - - - - - -

I also saw Антитіла on Wednesday.

So. Fucking. AMAZING.

It was everything I wanted and more. I had chills and tears. The first and only time I ever got emotional at a concert was Paul Simon, so that should tell you something.

I really hope I get to see them again.

KALUSH is up next and then, in February, it’s SKOFKA… who I only know because of the collabs with KALUSH.

I’m trying to see as many Ukrainian shows as possible so, even if I’m lukewarm on the artist, I’ll go.

I get to support Ukrainians and experience live music. It’s a win-win, even though I hate the fact that they’re on tour fundraising for shit like first aid supplies.

And on that note, I need to go research some more hockey things. November 1st is coming way too fast.

I wouldn’t say she’s a slut, but her favourite shade of lipstick is penis. - Kristen Proby

October 10, 2023 :: 7:55 PM

I could have written this scene, but I didn’t. Elle Kennedy beat me to it.

I’m still on my mission to read EVERY. SINGLE. hockey romance out there.

FUUUUUUUUCK. There are a lot of them.

I’ve been trying to focus on the MM ones, but every once in a while, I’ll read a MF one. As a palate cleanser.

Because even this girl can’t take that much dick 24/7/365.


That didn’t come out quite right.

(In case you couldn’t guess it, I’m all about the dicks tonight. (AGAIN!) I blame Elle Kennedy. I just finished her book The Deal and it was so well written. Not the hockey stuff, because it never is, but I flat out fucking DIED when I got to the part about the penises.)

Story time, kids!

A thousand years ago, in a much different lifetime, I got a part-time job working for the Men’s Ice Hockey team at my college.

True story - Coach told me he had had a problem with the former Team Manager keeping her legs shut. He most definitely couldn’t get away with saying it now, but I appreciated how honest he was. Fucking the players would get me fired. Period. And there was no way I was losing out on (what was then) the job of a lifetime because he thought I was easy.

Alternatively, as Vaddo once told me, in typical Vaddo fashion, “Dobbsey was a vending machine. You could get whatever you wanted from her.”


I told Coach that I liked girls.

I’m pretty sure we both knew I was lying, but I made a point to act like the last thing I cared about was the boys.

Of course, lines were blurred from time to time over the two seasons I worked for the team - sometimes, I don’t think any of us knew what my job was.

I would patrol the hotel halls on road trips to make sure the guys weren’t getting ‘spice’ after curfew. (Oh, dear god, was there a lot of post-curfew spice after that one game at Bowdoin. Like there was an ENTIRE spice rack in the hotel that night.)

I was the target of their pranks. The little sister they wanted to protect. The girl who would often rescue players from the more obnoxious puck fucks.

(No, dude. You don’t understand. You can call them puck bunnies all you want, but if the girls weren’t spice, they were puck fucks. It’s an important distinction.)

I had a few beers ‘spilled’ on me. I drove more than one player home after a night at Huskies.

I was the one that players would confide in.

I was even the one who took A FUCKING SNAKE home over Christmas because it couldn’t go home with the player and he didn’t want the snake to be alone in the dorm.  (Thank fuck I didn’t have to feed it over break. It was bad enough being in the boys’ room the one day they did feed it. I will never be able to unsee the snake swallowing the mouse, nor the mouse sized lump inside the snake.)

At that point, UConn was still playing in an OUTDOOR ice rink.


We had a small warming hut and two locker rooms. There was ONE restroom in the warming hut. ONE.

Needless to say, if the boys had to piss, they weren’t doing it in the restroom.

Nope. They used the garbage can in the center of the locker room.

Ask me how I know.

Go ahead.

I dare you.

Let’s set the scene:

It’s the first home game of the season and your girl Wendell Gee has absolutely no fucking idea what she has gotten herself into.

Home games are different from practices are different from hanging out in the hockey office… I thought I knew those boys. I didn’t think there was much left that could shock me.

I. Was. Wrong.




Here I am. It’s the first home game with my boys, we’re between periods, and I’ve been told to get something and bring it to the locker room.

Not a single thought went through my head except to get the thing and give it to Coach.

In retrospect, I’m pretty sure it was a test.

Fuck pretty sure.

It was definitely a test.

Because when I walked in, Coach was nowhere to be seen, but





I caught sight of the two captains using the garbage can as a urinal first and then I looked around the room slowly.

I could tell I had their undivided attention as I bounced from penis to penis.

(Oh god, I didn’t mean that literally.)

I think it might have been Captain Douchey McDoucheface who shook himself off and asked me if I liked what I saw.

I believe my exact words were “Mine is bigger.”

(It’s amazing how much your relationship with a guy (or 28 of them) changes once you let them know that you’re not impressed by their snack size weenie…)