I don't like it when you talk while looking at my vagina.

Sometimes in certain situations, silence is golden. I know when people work with customers or clients they think they need to fill the silent void and constantly talk. But it just makes the situation awkward. A perfect example of this is when you go to a doctor or a gynaecologist (my auto correct is trying to change that to say gun colonist lol). Whenever I go to see the vagina doctor for a quick check up on the elusive pink panther it usually turns into an awkward situation. You get changed into your backless, assless gown, laying on your back with your feet in stirrups, then the doc asks you to scootch down a lil bit more, then you move your butt down an inch, the doc says, ohhh a lil more, so you move a lil more, your ass cheeks decide to eat the white crunchy paper that is lining the table thing you are laying on, you don't move down enough for the doctors liking and she/he just grabs your hips and moves you down to where your ass should be. Your legs are spread eagle in a bright, veryyyyy well lit sterile room, and you start to panic wondering if you missed a spot while shaving your legs. While your vagina is out in the wide open, the doctor is looking right at her, and this is when I want it to be silent. No words need to be spoken, just do what you need to do, enjoy the view, and we will go on our way. But nope, the doctor thinks this is the perfect time to chat it up. With one finger inserted inside of me she asks, 'so, Leanne, what do you do for a living?' I start freaking out, can she tell what I do for a living by the wear and tear of my vagina? I think of jokes to make about it, maybe tell her I am currently inventing a Chapstick for your vagina lips to prevent chapping in the winter weather!? but I just say I am in customer service. She is probably thinking 'ya....customer service...do you mean servicing dick?' She then starts talking about The show, Orange is the new Black, a show about women in a prison who are horny and usually sex each other up. Whyyyyy is the doctor talking about a show with lesbian tendencies while digging through my clam like she is looking for a pearl?! She continues to make small talk all while staring right at my love box. In moments like this I rather just listen to the slight hum and buzz of the fluorescent lights then have her blowing wind from the chitchat onto my labia.

'The shit my friends and family say...' Featuring guest writer Alexandra Love

"Like me, I’m sure many of you have things that turn you on. Whether it be men with beards, men with money, men with ten foot cocks that will ruin your insides should you allow them to get inside your fragile pussy. Some people even have fantasies that turn them on whenever they think about acting them out with a willing person. Some are normal, like schoolgirl or hot librarian… the typical. And then, we have the weirdest, oddest, craziest, don’t know how you came up with that one, fantasies. Back when I was promiscuous and curious about the world of sex, drugs and cock&roll, I had an experience with an odd man. Now don’t get me wrong, he was nice, there was just something a little off the first time I met him. Then, later on down the road, when things heated up, I really discovered how odd this man was. Let me point out here that I am open minded and will usually try anything once, so in the bedroom I usually don’t turn anything down. So I’m at his place and we’re in bed, things are getting hot and he asks me if he can put on some music. And I said, hell yeah, put on something nasssty and make me feel like one of the whores in the Candy Shop music video. So he runs over to his stereo and as I’m ready to start bumping and grinding with him, I hear an odd sound. The music he was playing. It was familiar to me, soothing in a way, but at the same time it dried up my pussy as if someone stuck a ShamWow up there. It was Beethoven! You know, the classical musician, the deaf guy with the white hair (white hair a turn OFF by the way). I thought, for sure he put in the wrong CD, or put on the wrong radio station. But he started walking back to the bed to continue where we left off. It wasn’t a mistake. I asked him what this music was for and he said we were going to fuck to it. He said he loved fucking to classical music and it really turned him on. He said he wanted to picture me as an innocent virgin from back then and he was disgracing his family name by having sex with me. I reminded myself that I was open minded about this kind of thing and I pushed my way through the rest of the night (sex is sex, right?) Needless to say that was the last time I ever saw Mr. Classical again."

Not all posts have to be funny, putting aside the dirty jokes for a moment

Sometimes it is necessary to take the time to clear the air and to break things down for the ignorant people that polute other peoples lives. Every person will have to face an ignoramus at one point or another, we will all have those people who will try to defecate on our hopes and dreams and can't pull their own head out of their ass for a moment to realize sometimes small things mean more in life then all the big things combined to some of us. When I started this blog I didn't think I would have anyone reading it, I could never imagine that even one person out there would care enough to read my simple, unintelligent, baffling bullshit that I would be typing and posting. But for me, I needed this. Sometimes in life things get to heavy, the shear weight of your past and your shattered soul from life's complications become too much of a burden for ones heart to handle. My comfort blanket is my humour. The day my brother died I tried to laugh to myself that I wouldn't have to pay him back the $20 I owed him, or that I could now have the sweater of his he would never let me wear, it was much easier to make a joke and find a laugh then it was to face the fact that my life as I knew it was destroyed. Sometimes when you're the funny person, people forget to ask if you're doing okay, because us funny people are experts in turning any situation into an entertaining tale so people always just assume we are happy go lucky people. To some people this blog is just dumb and a waste of time, to me it's a saving grace, my own thoughts and sadness were weighing me down the last year or so, I couldn't find a way to make my self happy. Every time I see that even one person read my blog my heart heals itself a little. Ever since I was really little I loved making people laugh, laughter is the best medicine. I don't have any other talents, I'm not skinny, pretty or tall enough to be a model, or smart enough to be a doctor, I'm not deligent enough to go to law school for a decade to become a lawyer. But...I am witty and funny enough to write some stupid, haphazard words down and present it in a way that will always get a laugh. And for me, that's worth it, that's my talent, that's my forte. When I was little and you asked my mom what her kids would grow up to be she would say my sister would be a lawyer, my brother would be an architect and I would be a comedian. At the time I was insulted, how could you think your daughter would ONLY be a comedian, but now my heart grows with joy as I finally realize that's what I want to do, I don't care if I make a dime off of that, or if my name is never a headliner of a comedy show, or if no one beyond my circle or friends and family reads my blog. I am doing my part in this universe by making people laugh. I always think about how my blog or my humor could change someone's mood, shift your thoughts from sad, depressing, heartbreaking thoughts to funny, uplifted moods because I made you laugh about a crooked penis. I always think that if someone made my brother laugh 8 years ago the day he was planning on committing suicide he may be here to enjoy my successes instead of me writing comedy to mask a crushed soul that was left behind from his decision to end his life. Comedy makes life seem more bearable for me, if I can make a joke out of it, it's not that bad. I lay in bed at night and rehearse my stand up act, and imagine how loud the audience will laugh at certain jokes, or I will look into the crowd and see someone wipe a tear from their face because they are laughing so hard, and in that 5 minutes I'm on stage I'm doing my part, I'm making people forget about their worries and their pain, in that moment I am sharing my comfort blanket of comedy with them. To anyone who thinks this is a dumb blog and that I'm wasting my time chasing a dream, or if you get annoyed that I blow up Facebook with this stuff, I just want to say go check yourself and your life out before you speak another word to me, what do you offer to this world to make it better? Be happy for me that I get to live out a childhood dream, some kids wanted to be superheroes, or race car drivers or astronauts, I wanted to make people laugh, be happy that I get to live out a life long dream in a simple, yet plausible manner. And I'm sorry I got real sappy on this, and I promise you I have a blog post about vagina doctors coming up real soon. As always, thanks to everyone who say things to me like 'Leanne, grow a pair, stop thinking you're not funny enough' you are the people who matter. As well, 6000 + blog views..boooo yaaaa!

'The shit my friends and family say', featuring guest writer Tyler Hubz

Hello ! Well I guess I should start by saying my name is Tyler and I am Leanne's cousin. I've known Leanne since I guess you could say her birth, weve always gotten along fairly well although you would never guess we're related. If we were walking down the street together and you saw us most would think were a couple of fuck tards who just got off shift at the recycling depot. Anyways the topic at hand today is gonna be hospitals. You see I recently had surgery at st.pauls hospital in Saskatoon Saskatchewan, that is where I live , and no I don't fuck my sister or cousins, I don't wear overalls or plaid shirts with cowboy boots, that shit only happens in the united states, saskatoon is a normal fuckin city ok? Anyway, back to the hospital, so I went in for surgery and anyone who has had surgery knows that you are not allowed to eat or drink anything for like 24 hours before your surgery, which I understand I guess. So I am waiting in a room on the second floor to go in for surgery and at this point its been what seems like a week I haven't eaten and Im fucking starving and thirsty to the point where the old man beside me with tubes keeping him alive is starting to look like a fucking turkey leg, but I know I can manage. So finally I get called to go up for surgery and they tell me to take the elevator to the 5th floor and they give me the directions. I get in the elevator press 5, the door closes, the elevator goes up, I reach floor 5 the ding goes off and the doors open. As soon as those doors open my immediate thought is " oh you dirty fucking cunts ". Those doors opened and I walked into willy wonkas fucking chocolate factory!!! There were vending machines with chips, cookies, sandwiches, fucking icecream, pop, juice, energy drinks, chocolate bars you name it and it was in a vending machine lining the hallway leading to the operating room check in area. Now Im not a genius or anything but Im pretty fuckin sure the guy who has the authority to make that judgement call was just being a fuckin dick face thinking he is funny!! Is it really necessary to have the west edmonton mall food court on a fuckin hospital floor full of people that haven't eaten in 24 hours and can't eat ? The worse part is that when you awake from surgey and 24 hours of not eating the bastards feed you a piece of stale fucking toast with crunchy peanut butter that started out as smooth peanut butter back in 1995. Thats pretty much all I gotta say about that bullshit, hope you enjoyed my miserable experience!

VLOG time...it's all about eyebrows!

Forgive me in this video, I'm a grumpy clam, and starting to get sick! Check out the youtube video at .... http://youtu.be/BjpEC-5d8DM

Autocorrect,you cock blocking son of a bitch.

As if being single isn't hard enough, us single people have to contend with many variables that keep us single. Such as, the friend in the club acting as a wing man/woman but really just complicates the situation and ends up ruining the chance of us single people getting it in that night. But now we have a new-aged cock blocking system that is sure to dry up a vagina or limp up a dick faster than you can press send on your cell phone. This cock blocking son of a bitch is.....auto correct. Technology has come a long way in the last 5 years, whoever invented auto correct and predictive text was both a genius and a royal ass hat all mixed into one human being. Way back yonder when you were dating or swooning someone you had to get out some ink and paper and write a love letter to your sweetheart and mail it off, and in 3 to 5 business days your cutie would receive this steaming hot letter full of cute poems, maybe a little taboo naughty talk, then in turn they would write down their feelings and send off their reply of written love whispers and the multiple paragraphs about how they long for your tender touch. Now, thanks to the easy access of email, Facebook, and texts we can send our filthy thoughts, needs and wants all over the damn place in a matter of seconds. But touchscreens and autocorrect combined with greasy Doritos fingers really put a damper on the mood. The lights are turned down low, your pants are on the ground next to your bed, you get out your phone and decide to text the man you've been swooning after. You type, 'baby, I long for your touch, I miss your breath down the back of my neck, I want you to lick my titties....' You press send, and just when it's too late and the little check mark indicating your message has been sent to the recipient, you realize, auto correct thinks it knows better and has changed all your words. Now my message says, 'Bobby, I long for your tongue, I miss your breasts down the back of my taint, I want you to lick my midgets....' Dude replies back saying 'first of all, my name isn't Bobby, it's Jacob, and I don't really feel comfortable with your love of men with breasts, and what exactly is a taint? And why do you have midgets?! They are people too, Leanne...they are not pets....I don't think we should see each other anymore....' Wellllll for fuck sakes autocorrect. You sure know how to make a penis invert don't you?!

Ever wonder why Santa's cheeks are red?

People who are counting down until Christmas need to simmer the fuck down. Santa would be disappointed in your behaviour. Santa is a distinguished man with a beard and most importantly a moustache, he doesn't want you worrying about Christmas until Movember is over, let's take the time to get excited about the glorious month of moustache rides, they provide great entertainment and are usually free! Unlike Christmas which costs people a ridiculous amount of money. So friends, count down til Movember! It's such a lovely month, men raise money for a great cause, women get facial hair tickling their inner thighs, and if you're lazy and don't want to shave either, your inner thighs can tickle his moustache back! It's so romantic! My fav part about Movember is how it's like playing a game of Russian roulette when you're single, you meet a guy with a stellar moustache and you don't know if he's participating in Movember or if he is just a creep with a dirty moustache that smells like a mixture of dried salami and a hooker named Brandie Alexis. I recently told someone who was talking about Christmas to calm down and put the count down to a halt and she threw an ounce of attitude towards me and said 'listen, Santa only comes once a year...' Bitch, have you seen Mrs. Claus' caboose? Baby got back, I doubt Santa only comes once a year *wink wink*. Why do you think Santa's cheeks are always so red? They are all chaffed from giving moustache rides during the month of Movember!