Thursday, April 24, 2014

Dating Site Perverts and Tuna Casseroles

Let me just say, for the record, I love tuna casserole. All kinds of it. I can, and have eaten it by the pound. I would eat it right now. This blog has absolutely nothing to do with tuna casserole, I'm just hungry.

Baahhh means no, sucka.



Every other Saturday, I drive past the same abortion clinic on Central Ave, and I see the same dudes in their denim and flannel, holding up signs of what is apparently aborted baby stew. These dudes stand there cocked, locked, and ready to shame any female that walks into the building in question. To be honest, I'm typically more fixated on these dipshits than the printed bloody mess they're holding up as signs in protest. It's kind of gross, and I hate that my spawn have seen these signs. 

So, here's the thing...I can appreciate that these men take the time to put this little sham of a show together to demonstrate their disgust with the choices complete strangers have made for themselves. I can also applaud their dedication to the subject, and their ability to stand united. Nice assembly, fellas. What bothers me is that there is a bunch of dudes standing outside a medical building judging females for making a choice that those motherfuckers couldn't even remotely begin to understand, nor handle. Who the fuck are you to tell ANY woman, what to do with her body, little alone shame her for making the decision she has made? Ohh, is that a vagina under those bibs? No? Then shut your fucking slop-hole, pal. It's that simple. When a man can mangle what used to be an impressive six pack to grow a human in his guts and actually birth this creation, he can yap his trap about whatever his opinion may be. Until then, just sit there and be a man. Mmmkay? Would I personally get an abortion? Nope. Do I believe anyone else on this planet should have the right to tell me that I can't, if unforeseen circumstances were to take place? HELL NO! I most certainly don't want the opinion of some backwoods-hilljack that probably fucks his sheep behind the barn to have any bearing on my right to make such a choice.


Speaking of no futures, lets talk about some shit that has me annoyed.



On this wonderful journey of finding the one, I have met some dudes that have had me temporarily smitten at various points. It happens. Whether it's the nice dinners, or the way he made me laugh, or perhaps it was just the way he laid the pipe, somewhere along the way it got to that level. Scary shit, for real. It makes a gal think about her life. As I'm sure you can tell, I have dated some real prizes in the man department, and I have to be honest when I say that the thought of a serious relationship right now absolutely terrifies me.
The pet names and expectations. The compromises and inevitable "love" bombs.... and God forbid, the feelings.

Eeeek! Check please!

You see, it's not that I don't want all of these things, because every broad does and ultimately that's why you date. It's just that when you cupcake around with a dude long enough to figure out that he isn't the one, you have the task of trying to get dude to get off the hook. I'm not one of those bitches that will just straight up ignore you and toss your ass to the side like a used cotton pony, I try to be nice about it. I don't want to run into your bitter ass down the road and have to feel your glare burning into the back of my fabulous skull. I'd rather be able to say a quick "Hey!" and go about my day. So, I try to break it to 'em gently.

Please,
Don't rebuttal every point I make when I tell you why I don't want to bang you anymore. I JUST DON'T WANT TO FUCK YOU. It's really that simple.

Don't try to guilt trip me for not putting forth more effort. I'm just not feelin' it, bro. I'm not trying to waste my energy on a dead end.


Raw Dick Doug, AKA Cowboy



While in the midst of heartbroken stupor a few months back, a dear gal pal of mine convinced me that it would be entertaining for me make a profile on a dating site. I was reluctant, but I put up a pic from fb and answered some questions to aid in finding my mopey ass a love connection. I had 35 messages in less than 5 minutes. Hello, esteem boost! I was hooked. It was like shopping for shoes online, only it was dudes. I entered in my criteria, and started scrolling.
Too short. Scroll.
Too many kids. Scroll. 
Too old. Scroll. Scroll. Hey now, he's cute...oh, is that a Disturbed shirt he's wearing? Uggh, nope. Scroll.

Who are these dudes?

I got chatty with a few guys on the site. I also ignored a lot. I went on a few dates, and I happened to see several people I know pop up in my searches. Most of the time we just exchanged some "haha's" and kept shopping. Even my cuntbag ex found me on there. That was awkward. He tried to get me to reconcile through a dating site. The irony was just too much. Anyhoo, I met some strange characters along the way and one of my most infamous is a guy I like to call "Cowboy".

Cowboy was a redneck from the sticks. He was aged 37 years. He stood 6'4, and was 220 lbs of solid muscle from running cattle on his farm. He certainly was nice to look at. Dude seemed to have had a good sense of humor and was a bit old fashioned, which I dig. On his profile he had said he liked to drink beer around a bonfire and eat steak. Well, shit the bed! Those things happen to tickle my fancy as well, so I sent him a message. I told him he should take me out for a steak and some beers, and that's precisely what he did that very evening. 

I met dude at Outback (meh). I could tell which truck was his as soon as I pulled into the lot. It was a tan Chevy dually, dirty as fuck. I had to look by the hitch to make sure there wasn't brass balls hanging back there. That'd have been a deal breaker right there, folks. He met me at the door when I walked inside, and escorted me to our table. 

We yapped and we grubbed. He gave me bites of his lobster and we laughed and yapped some more. It was all very enchanting. I said all the right shit dudes like to hear, and he acted as though he was hanging on my every word. Dating is super fun.

Cowboy told me a story of when he had first started dating his ex and how he should have ran right then and there, but he enjoyed seeing how far her crazy would go. That should've been my cue to ask for the check, but I was intrigued by the way his lips formed words, so I continued to bat my lashes and nod at all the appropriate times. He proceeded to tell me about how crazy girl had suddenly pulled a Hulk and ripped open a Burger King bag in his floorboard and tried to beat him with it while throwing cold fries at him. Entertaining, right?
At the end of our date, he walked me to my car and we decided we should hang out again soon. We hugged, and I hopped in my ride and drove away with a smile.

Throughout the next few days, we talked on the phone a bit and sent a few texts back and forth. Nothing too crazy...until one particular evening. He had been chatty Cathy all day, and decided to call me from the parking lot of a bar he had gotten kicked out of for getting rowdy. Red flag! Dude was hammered and slurring like a buffoon. He was rambling on about their little dispute and so forth and I tried like hell to be interested. It was taking serious effort. I think he finally clued in that he was taking me to Boredom City, so he flipped the switch and started to plan our date for the next day. While we were yapping and planning, I was preparing my spawn's uniforms and what not for the next day and he inquired as to why my spawn had to wear uniforms to school. (they go to Catholic school) He says, "Ohh, so you're a Catholic girl, huh? I guess that means I'm gonna have to wear a rubber with you. Uggh." 

Ummm...What the fuck did he just say? Does he actually think I'd bang a complete stranger, raw dick? That's laughable.

To make a long story short, he hung up on me, then flipped his wig through text because he doesn't wear condoms and proceeds to tell me that I obviously have trust issues. Total nutcase stuff. I was appalled and he was super disrespectful. I may have said something along the lines of him being a presumptuous asshole, and any chance he may have had to ever get near my lacy goodies was now going to be nothing more than a mere fantasy for him to tenderize his sad lil' meat to. I also told him I could clearly see why his ex had tried to beat him with fries and shit, I'd like to beat him with a bat, real hard.

Apparently he found me amusing, because he then asked me to marry him. He said "I made his uncut dick rock hard and he wanted to punish my sassy ass and filthy mouth." He was as serious as a heart attack.
Whaaaaat?! Holy fucking fishdicks, who says this shit after one date? This dude was on a whole different level and definitely not one I desired to get on. You know, like chop your ass into chunks and serve you for dinner type level of crazy? Fuck that noise! Needless to say, I told him to eat dicks and blocked him. Back to scrolling.

Question:
     ~Why is it that uncut dicks make me think of Bush's baked beans? It's always that damned "Roll that beautiful bean footage" that pops into my head.
Beanie weenies; delicious, yet disturbing all at once. You're welcome.

 






Tuesday, April 8, 2014

I need to vent.

So, here we are.
I've typed the random thoughts that have popped into my head, and now you're reading them. Congrats, and welcome to the jungle, baby.

I have a lot to say, and I don't filter. I'm a bit vulgar, and downright crude at times. You may laugh, and you may get offended. Either way- no apologies.

I'm just a chick that's in constant search of my path and I will never be satisfied. I'm 30, and still don't have my shit figured out. I think I have gypsy blood. I fear commitment, yet I crave it. I like makeup, and I like men. I probably drink too much, and definitely don't exercise enough. Mmm, a pint of Half Baked would be excellent right now. I have a short attention span. LIKE, really short. Everything bores me eventually and I lose interest. Did I mention I'm single?...yeah. I like peanut butter a whole lot. The crunchier, the better. Creamy for crackers and snacky shit. I just don't like nuts all over my celery.
Obviously, I need a snack.
 

Dipshits or Dildos


I fairly recently got out of a toxic relationship. He was the narcissistic, sociopath type. The sex was good. Not the best I'd ever had, but I had fun. It was like glue for me and I will never understand why. Long story short, he cheated and I felt betrayed so I told him to eat shit and I moved on. Some days, I struggle with the "How could that motherfucker do this to me?" thoughts, but most days I'm happy. Free. He's but a fading memory. He turned out to be like all the rest...just another dipshit.

As a single gal,when you get all gussied up and have a night out on the town, you want to catch a couple eyes in hopes of meeting someone that might be interesting enough to talk to through the drink they're inevitably going to buy you. Let's be real here...In the rare case that this fella actually has a nice smile, free of food debris, no visible boogs,  and is just maybe a little cute....he has to go and open his mouth and say something cheesy. Fantasy RUINED. Thanks for the drink, now fuck off and don't creep on me from across the bar, please. Don't send your lame ass friend over to attempt it either. He's not as cute as you are, and obviously has even lower self esteem than you. That pathetic ass isn't even worth talking to for a free drink. I find myself in that same place at the end of the night with the same choice to make as the time before. Dipshit, or dildo? Lately, dildo has been leading in the polls.

 

Thanks for reiterating why I choose to be single, fuckface.


I have a whole lot of standards when it comes to the type of man I like to share my time with. My time is fucking precious, and if you want to hit this, you will show your appreciation or move on down the road. I keep my standards high, but my expectations low. I'm prepared for you to suck in pretty much every aspect, so bring your best game, Bud.

We all have our list of deal breakers, and here are a few of mine.

1. You're a self-proclaimed "grower" and not a "shower". Dude, please. You just have a small prick.

2. A lack of manners will not suffice. You had better say please and thank you. It's not about chivalry, it's about not being a fucking asshole.

3. The phrase "chivalry is dead" is not acceptable. Open my door. Pull out my chair. Ladies love this, and you dudes know it.

4. Don't show up planning to get your freak on with me wearing some lame-ass boxers. I don't want to see Homer Simpson by your dick. Not sexy.

5. Your fucking face. That is the most awful "O" face I've ever seen. I can't even stay wet if you look like you're having some sort of retard seizure. I don't want to have to keep my eyes squeezed shut, so fix that shit.

6. You're how old, and still working a shit job? Seriously? I need a go-getter with a plan, Stan. If you're slinging drinks or flipping burgers, you're not man enough for me.

7. My, what a soft and slightly feminine voice you have. Barf.

8. Wow, your hands are almost as small as mine. And soooo smooth. Nope.

9. Your ride...clean it, fix it, or upgrade it. I don't drive a clunker, and I won't ride in one either.

10. Are you a hyena by chance? That laugh is fucking annoying!

11. Are those titties under your shirt, dude? I wear the tits in a relationship. Period.

12. So, you've got a man sweater under that argyle sweater? Too bad you have more body hair than head hair. I'll wax that shit, but no thanks on the little bump and grind situation.

13. You like to get wasted, and act like a bitch. If you can't handle your liquor, how are you going to handle me? I don't want to babysit a grown man.

14. You have a horrible haircut, or just don't bother to cut it at all. I won't be seen with a dude with shitty hair. That's a direct reflection of me and my profession.

15. Your primary jammage is rap or bullshit I can't stand. I like it hard and heavy with some melody, and prefer not to hear, "Fuck you niggas, you'z a hoe" shit. That's not music. That's talking to a beat about shit I don't relate to.

16. I have a potty mouth, so if you're more vulgar than me, or say some crude shit at an inappropriate time and embarrass me, I will verbally castrate you.

17. If I'm giving you head, guess what? Your ass had better reciprocate. Ohh, you don't eat snatch? Later, hater.

18. Those are some busted kicks you're trying to sport, homie. I bet you can take your ass to Payless and get yourself something real fancy. Anything would be an improvement if your soles are flopping with every step.

19. You have a hairy ass pet that just HAS to sleep with you. I don't want to choke on your dog's hair and fight for bed space with the four-legged bastard. Also, if we are fucking in that hairy bed, I don't want your kitty's hair all over my kitty. Ya dig?

20. So you had Chipotle for lunch today? I can tell because you still have remnants of it in your grill. I won't let that dirty mouth anywhere near me. I can't even look at you right now. No, rubbing your finger across your teeth didn't help. That big piece of cilantro is still there! Ugggh. You disgust me.

21. So, we're friends on Facebook now. Swell. You like that picture? Neat. I do look pretty in that one. Ohhh, you like those other 270 pictures as well? Hmmm...you just liked my picture from 2008? How far are you digging through my shit? There's a fine line between a crush and a straight up stalker. You're taking the cake, homeboy.

22. A dear male friend of mine said, "A man doesn't text smiley faces as communication."
I have to agree. It's rather annoying, and I want to beat you with all of your smiley faces.

23. I think tattooed men are hot. I think men without tats are equally as hot. If you're one of those dudes that needs "Ink Therapy" or got full sleeves to look more hardcore, get the fuck out of here. I don't date poser pussies.

24. Are you seriously wearing a fucking beanie in June? It's 85 degrees outside. No beanies after April, no exceptions. Douche.

25. You want to take me out for an expensive dinner? Awesome! I will get my fancy panties on, and we will have a ball. ARE YOU SERIOUSLY PULLING UP TO FUCKING OLIVE GARDEN RIGHT NOW? Jesus, fucking tits, no.


These are just a few, obviously. I could go on and on all day, but this girl has bills to pay, and currently, no sugar daddy. I've got to wash my 'giney and my hiney, so I'll catch you on the flipside. <3