Archive | April, 2012

Peeta Mellark Loves Me

17 Apr


She Flashed Her Pancakes

17 Apr

Being a stupid whore must be hard. You have to have just the right balance of stupid, and whore. That’s too complicated for me. I’d rather focus my efforts on being a drunk whore. Stupid takes too much effort. Besides, there are plenty of stupid whores out there, take Train Wreck for example.

In my last post I mentioned that dumb shit she had done on Saturday. Apparently, it got worse after I left. Take a look at the text exchange I had with Biggie yesterday:


She is a mess.  According to our other friend who was there she “flashed her tits at the bar”.  “Why?” you ask?  Because she wanted attention.  And also, because she is a stupid whore.

You Don’t Want THAT Syrup on Your Pancakes

15 Apr

So what did you do yesterday morning?  Betcha it wasn’t as awesome as what I was doing…watching porn at a local bar at 8:00 in the morning.  That’s right.  I got up early on a Saturday morning to watch porn and drink beer.  I am awesome.  Or weird.  Or maybe both.  Yesterday marked the third annual Porn and Pancakes at a local bar.  It was my second time going and you can bet your ass I’ll be there next year.

I’m pleased to report that unlike last year, there were no gang bangs and I didn’t vomit.  I have to admit, I was pretty disappointed in this year’s selection.  There was something special about last year’s selection, they went a little campy last year.  This year they had more “serious” porn.  All except the porn version of Jersey Shore, which was amazing, and the disturbing midget and fat girl porn.

Let me tell you a little something: when most people thing of FFM (female female male) porn, there’s usually a twinge of excitement in the air.  Yesterday there were shouts of “Ew!” and “That’s the nastiest thing I’ve ever seen!” instead.  Picture this: two very large girls wrestling around in a ring, and a midget ref.  One woman had ponytails, zero make up, a wife beater, and full on granny panties – none of which did a thing for her cellulite.  The other one had super floppy boobs and a pink wig.  As for the dude, he looked just like Chewie from Chelsea Lately AND he had a tiny penis.  Now picture this, said people engaged in a variety of sex acts with one another. [Insert gag here]

One of the guys I went with had never been before, and he was afraid he’d walk out with a big fat boner.  Instead, he walked out with a tinge of nausea.  Not sure if it had to do with that video, or the Train Wreck who was with us.  You may recall that she’s the one that’s still hung up on an ex who she dated for seven weeks and who broke up with her seven months ago.  Within the first 15 minutes of her arriving at the bar she had already shown him and Biggie a picture of her in a bra and flashed her muffin top.  Not sexy.  Not sexy.  She then proceeded to start telling us why reverse cowgirl is her favorite sexual position.

Look, I know we’re at Porn and Pancakes and all, but it’s not that kind of party.  There’s not a single person at the bar who is holding a video camera and you’re not supposed to be making movies around here.  Also, these dudes have significant others and I’m sure those ladies would be pissed as shit if they heard you talking about how it hits your spot just right.  Shut your mouth, whore, you’re ruining my porn.

Mazel Tov

13 Apr

Today was the last day for the woman who sits behind me.  The flighty woman who is missing some major brain cells and doesn’t know how to do her job.  Yeah, she’s leaving.  I’m really torn up about it.  I’m not sure which I’ll miss most: her lack of common sense or her cell phone with the “Marry the Night” ringtone.  Or maybe her frizzy hair.  It’ll be tough on Monday when I don’t have to listen to her tell me about her cat or how cute her son is or how difficult it is to walk and chew gum at the same time.  Somehow, I’ll make it through.

This morning her boss, who is hot as sin, had a little going away party for her.  There were bagels, and muffins, and breakfast pastries.  Carb-o-licious!  One teeny tiny problem: she’s Jewish and observing Passover.  Not a single thing at her own party that she could eat.  Not one single thing.

Um, what kind of boss does that?  I know he knows she’s Jewish.  I overheard them talk about it the other day!  I swear this was the exact conversation:

  • Him: What did you do for Easter this weekend?
  • Her: I’m Jewish.  We don’t celebrate Easter, but we’re in the midst of Passover.
  • Him: Oh.  Right.  So no Peeps for you. [stupid laugh] Tell me about what you do for Passover.
  • Her: [launches into a boring monologue about giving up leavened bread for a week and the plight of the Jews and lamb’s blood on the door and how God wanted the first born son.]
  • Him: So you can’t eat bread for a week?
  • Her: Nope.  Not until next weekend.
  • Him: That sucks!
  • Her: It’s not so bad.  It’s only a few days, not like Lent where you have to give up something for 40 days.
  • Him: Wow.  That’s tough! So what did you give up for Lent?

Hot?  Yes.  Bright? No.

Why On Earth Would You Want to Smell Like That??

10 Apr

There are things on this earth I will never understand.  Like why anyone cares what the Kardashians do, why people are so into anal, where socks wander off to, why people like olives, and why Veronica Mars was cancelled.  These are all things I spend time pondering.  Especially the first one.  The Kardashians are a waste of space.  Yes, Kim is hot, but the rest of her family is lame and not remotely interesting.  There are more exciting things to do than watch their show(s), like stick your finger in a light socket, or water board yourself.

Yesterday a friend of mine sent me this website and I almost fell out of my chair.

Let me give you the skinny: it’s a website for a “perfume” that smells like vag.  No, not perfume FOR your vag, but perfume that smells LIKE your vag.

With a quick swipe of the roll-on applicator your fantasies will be indulged with not only the memories of an exotic, aroused woman, but also her musky vaginal scent. Only a small drop is needed to make it last for hours…

Why?  Why do you want to walk around smelling like vagina?  I don’t understand.  Unless this is geared towards those creepy guys with real dolls and they want to rub it all over the doll before they have romantic fun times with it.  I just don’t get it.

My favorite part about the website?  Definitely the video!  So there’s lots of footage of a sweaty woman at a gym using a bike.  Meanwhile, a super hot dude (who is clearly a fucking freak) is getting all excited watching her.  So what does he do after she leaves?  He goes over and smells the bicycle seat.  And if that’s not enough, he then proceeds to steal it.  Then hours later he’s rubbing the seat and smelling his hand.  And that’s marketing , my friends.

The Easter Bunny Can Suck It

9 Apr

Day after Easter and there’s no Easter candy to be found at my house.  No hollow chocolate bunnies.  No Reese’s peanut butter eggs.  No jelly beans.  No damn peeps.  Nothing.  Not a damn sugary tasty bit of goodness.  Why?  Because I was robbed.  Somewhere along the way life took over and decided that I was too old for Easter baskets.

That, my friends, is a chocolate covered load of bunny crap.

Next year I want an Easter basket piled high with stuffed animals, and too much candy.

Know what the Easter bunny did bring me on Easter Sunday?  A gift that made me repent for all my sins – and I’m an Atheist (shocking, I know).  A gift that made me want to bury my head in my hands and cry, or vomit, or vomit and then cry.  That’s right, I had a hangover on Christmas.  I’d like to blame my brother-in-law for that.  No, he didn’t force the red wine down my throat – but it’s his fault there wasn’t something more suitable to my liking at his house.

Note to self: never drink red wine again.  Ever.

Nothing like hanging out at mom’s house while trying to get the house to stop spinning and praying to the sweet baby Jebus that you don’t vomit all over the Easter ham in front of your niece and nephew.

Protected: You, Ma’am, Are a Bitch

4 Apr

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I’m Getting Old

1 Apr

There can be no other explanation for it.  None what so ever.  Sure, the fact that we started drinking in the afternoon could have something to do with it, but that’s just a lame excuse.  It was the lights at the club that were making me dizzy.  Like and old person.  An old person who hit a wall and had to leave the bar at 11:15 on a Saturday night because the lights were making her dizzy and the music was too loud.

Did they have to turn the volume THAT high?  Do you need to feel the music thumping in your bones?  Couldn’t they turn it down a little bit and then maybe stop with the crazy light shows?  Those were the thoughts going through my head last night when I was out with my friends.  Along with, why would she wear something like that?  Who does he think he’s kidding with that hair? And my favorite, why on God’s green earth is Claude drinking bourbon on the rocks?

Lame.  I am officially lame.

Claude and The Producer came all the way from DC to hang out with me and I was very busy being lame.  We spent the day drinking, eating, and walking all over town so Claude could find shoes.  We then proceeded to play that little game called, “I really like the first pair of shoes that I tried on, but lets walk all over town, and then come right back to this store.”  Super times.  Whatever, it was an excuse to take a break from our drinking.

Two cocktails, a glass of champagne, two more cocktails, two more glasses of champagne, and two big margaritas made me lame yesterday.  By the time 10:30 rolled around there was nothing I wanted more than to rest my head on a pillow and pass the fuck out.  Meanwhile, we’re sitting at a bar and I had just asked Jersey Belle and Oingo Boingo to come hang out with us.  So they get there, but no one can talk to anyone because it’s too fucking loud and the lights are making me want to vomit.

So what did I do?  I left their asses at 11:15 so I could drive 45 minutes to get home and go to sleep.  God forbid I’m still awake past midnight on a Saturday.

When did I become that person?  What happened to the days of staying out until dawn, waking up at 2:00 in the afternoon the next day, and doing it all again?  I miss those days.