My Jersey Shore Tribute

     Now I am not necessarily a fan of Jersey Shore, mainly because I've already seen oompa loompas on television before, so it's like a been there done that sort of thing. But even though those orange things are retards they have one thing I do admire. No not their acronyms. But the meaning of one in particular. DTF. I love it on so many levels.

     One thing I've always hated that men do is making a girl think they like them, then of course the girl likes them, just to get in her pants. Which leads these girls to heartache once they put out and are never called or nowadays texted again. Boys don't do that to chicks. Don't you know that there are so many women out there DTF?? There are women who do just want a random fuck and not a relationship. I've been one of them. Why not go after them? I know I know guys like the thrill of the hunt. But why play with your kill? You're just burning bridges that you could very possibly need later. Think about all her hot friends...
    
     Maybe we should have a DTF logo we can wear on our purses, shoes,wallets or whatever that let's every guy and girl know loud and clear that we're and they're DTF. That way there's no confusion when you meet someone what their intentions are. Especially women because let's face it, we can be optimists and think you not texting but once a week because you're "busy" is a sign you like us and are thinking about us when you get a spare second. No more bullshit people, because I know I hate it. If I didn't have a man at the moment I'd be wearing a DTF logo, maybe even tattoo that shit on my left breast.

     Lesson learned: Don't be like oompa loompas in looks, or intelligence, just like them morally when it comes to sex. Except don't be like that one orange fucker and cock block all your friends because you can't secure a girl who's DTF before you bring her home. And ladies if he isn't calling or texting within the hour of leaving you at your bedside then he's only DTF and nothing else.

    

The Game Changer

     First of all sorry I've been gone so long. It wasn't my intention. Went back to Vegas, and started working there. Almost moved there even but I didn't. One reason I didn't is because I met, what I told my Mother, a game changer. Yes I met a guy, a really great guy. It's weird really, always when you least expect or want it, someone amazing comes along. I hope I'm not speaking too soon on this and jinx it.

     It all started a month or so ago. I was working my ass off at the gym twice a day. Going to work to save up for my then move to Vegas. Planning my trip to Vegas for my auditions, which by the way I made. And about a couple weeks before my Vegas trip I met Frank. I met him at work. Which is out of my norm because anyone I meet at work goes into my pervy customer section of my contacts on my phone, to be deleted later in the night. And I in general never ever date someone from work. But he was different, I didn't know that at first though. I went up to his beefy ass at the bar at work because I saw he had some interesting tattoos on the backs of his arm. Curious I asked what they meant because I could tell they were in Latin. One of my favorite languages. He completely blew me off and told me to Google it. Smitten and shocked by his reaction, I complied and Googled that shit. Why? Because I wasn't going to let him know something that I didn't know. Plus I like a feisty guy that challenges me. I discovered what it meant asked him about it and he blew me off again. Ok fucker peace out. Too bad I had already seen his friends and hung out with them the past two times they had come into the club. So of course I talked to them making sure I ignored beefy, Latin tattoo guy. It was hard though because he was so cute, but I don't do rejection. I tell him he's an asshole, and his response was no I'm a nice guy. They leave. A week goes by and they all come into the club again. This time he is a nice guy. He told me he was blowing me off because he thought I just wanted his money...lol. I give him my number not expecting a damn thing. Not even two hours later I get a text from him, and we make plans to hang out the next day. Meet up, have absolutely the most incredible, mind blowing sex I've ever had, and have been together ever since.

     Why am I telling you all this? Because this was completely out of character for me. Like I said he's a game changer. I even let him read my blog. He told me after reading it that, I had been doing the opposite of everything I had been doing in my stories. I'm still waiting for this dream to end. Surely it will right? He's too good to be true. Treats me like a queen. Honestly treats me like no man has ever done before. And I constantly ask him to treat me like shit intermittently so I know he's real. I feel like a total softy now. Completely and utterly crazy about this man. So I think the saying that you have to be happy with yourself before you can be happy with someone is true. It wasn't until I got over that last horrible boyfriend and got myself back together, did I not only become a truly happy person, but I found someone to be truly happy with.

     Now this story at the moment isn't ending on a happy note. He's leaving soon for a long time. I can't believe that the thing I've been waiting for my entire life. A relationship that's truly honest and real is going to come to a halt soon. It's crazy I know to fall for someone so quickly. But my feelings for him are genuine and unlike any I've ever had before. If he's not it for me then I'm completely crazy and will adopt 30 dogs(not cats because I'm allergic and let's be honest I don't like the little shits) and be a spinster forever. I want to wait for him, I want to wait because he's worth waiting for. He has my heart and I hope he comes back with it.


Where have you been all my li ife ife ife?  Love, Goose

ps. Ladies if a man sees you crying, listens to your feelings, wipes away your tears, tells you he loves you while looking deep into your eyes, and kisses you..... he's a keeper.

So Men Created....

 Recently I joined a gym. Wanting to before but didn't because my most recent ex boyfriend told me not to join his gym and I should just walk around the block for exercise. Now that I go to "his"old gym I totally realize why he never wanted me to join...... a whole bunch of fine ass gym rats. Yes I've already bedded one. I hired a personal trainer to get me in shape, because I have some big plans coming up and me being at the top of my game is necessary. While my trainer was showing me everything he wanted me to do for my second visit in a day at the gym I realize men must have created these contraptions. Why? Because everyone looks sexual in one way or another. Crotches wide open, or asses in the air. One looked like something used in a doctor's office to do some ass procedure, any straight or gay man would love to have that one in the bedroom. All this had me thinking of all the things men must have created. And no I didn't look each up to verify, but I think I'm right on these.


 My List of Things I Think Men Created....

1. Gym equipment- like mentioned above they all look sexual, and if you look at the little diagrams on how to work the machine, just mentally add a second person to the diagram and you have porn.
2. Thongs/G-strings- well duh they'll tell us women anything is sexy to see our asses, I'm actually totally ok with this one because I like wearing them to the beach to eliminate tan lines, the only time I disagree with this is if a 60+ year old, fat, hairy wildebeest is wearing this to the beach or pool.
3. Purses- I know you might disagree with me on this one ladies but why wouldn't a man create something that is bothersome? Think about going to clubs or bars carrying one around. It's either in the way or if you can manage to set it down it's either in your lap or on the floor and you have to watch it like a hawk. So that's why I think women invented the satchel, so men will have to experience our burden. Because we all know a man is only going to hold our purse while we're trying on clothes for so long.
4. Microwave- So we can bring them their food faster. No they don't care that reheated hard shell tacos turn soft or soft shell tacos turn hard in the microwave. As long as they have their food fast! And to top it off they sometimes pretend to not know how to work it so they not only can eat fast but have nothing to do to get the end result. Think about guys asking how to get it started or them putting a poptart still in the shiny metallic wrapper in the microwave or putting in 90 minutes instead of 90 seconds. I know those fuckers aren't that dumb. They say they're the superior gender, well if you're so superior stop playing stupid to get us to do things we don't buy it anymore. Next time buy us some Bebe and see how much you can get us to do then.
5. Ambien- So they can either watch us do stupid shit for their own amusement or convince us to have sex with them. Or if they're like my ex, wait til I'm passed out to go through my cell phone and text my guy friends acting as me. All of these has happened to me. The first I don't mind because I'm normally laughing later myself. The second annoys me for obvious reasons, the most important being I ended up sleeping with some guy that had been trying and failing to hook up with me for months. The night he caught me on Ambien I was done for. That married, baby on the way, sack of shit! But on a lighter note here's some of the crazy shit I've done on Ambien.....
           a. Sent sext messages (pics included..ughh)
           b. Thought the reflection of myself in my window was Iranian women coming after me
           c. Eaten in my sleep
           d. Saw picture of a person on a cardboard box and thought someone was spying on me
           e. Thought my bed was a pirate ship and my dresser was the one from Beauty and The Beast
           f. Most recently was at my mom's and she told me the next day I was in her kitchen petting the           blinds and talking to the refrigerator. She subsequently told me not to take the Ambien to Vegas with me.
6. Make- up- Another thing for us to torture ourselves with putting on and taking off all just to look pretty for them. Well you know what? One day I'm going to apply my make up to look like Jabba the Hut and see how pretty men say I am then. And I know you can argue with me on this one to, with things like Cleopatra used make up. Yea and it was to get the attention of men. See in a round about way it's still all their fault. :)


     I'm sure I'll think of more before the days over and add them but for now this is my rant. Off to the gym to give men pretty good sexual visuals of myself on the workout equipment aka sexquipment.

To Be Single or Not to Be Single? That is The Question, Or Maybe Just Fuck Buddies...

     Sometimes like everyone else I get lonely. I think of finding a boyfriend or just giving in to one of the guys always haggling me for dates. But I stop myself, and start thinking of all the reasons NOT to be attached to someone. At this point in my life the cons out way the pros. Yes, you know I'm about to list it up.


       CONS

1. Have to respond to texts and/or phone calls within a certain period of time or you will be questioned. You know sometimes I don't feel like talking to any mother fucker. It could just be one of those days where I'm all pissy and don't give a shit. But if I was taken I could never just not respond. I'd either get bitched at, made to feel guilty, or a search team out to get me.

2. You can't keep your things the way you like them. For instance I like my sheets always tucked in the bed. My most recent ex couldn't stand tucked in sheets. I don't want to roll over while sleeping then all of a sudden all the bedding is rolling with me. Then he'd complain that I took all the blankets! Fuck you dude, don't put me in the rolling and taking position if you can't handle what happens when you do.

3. Having a bf/gf and always talking about them. This one sucks in a few ways. For one, no one really wants to hear about what's his name every second of the day. I know I've done this before and now looking back I feel like an idiot. Two, it makes you sound like you have no life, even if you do. Three, you could actually have no life and it just revolves around him/her. And that is even worse. If you have a significant other and suddenly your friends aren't calling you to go out anymore, you're doing something wrong. Or if they are and you're blowing them off, you're doing something wrong. Because from now on I'll be damned if a man comes between me and Margarita Mondays, or any of my other spending habits.

4. They don't always like your friends. This one sucks because it puts you in between two people you care about. Your man who gives you sex on a regular and your girlfriend who listens about all the problems you have with your man. Who else is going to listen to that lame ass shit and help you figure out why he refuses to leave a toothbrush at your place?

5. Having friends of the opposite sex is now an issue. I've made the mistake of ditching all my guy friends for my man before, just for my man to still dump me later for being jealous. Then of course I lost all guy friends and my man. Lose lose sista, lose lose. Jealousy is not a trait to put up with. It's insecurities brother, and neither are cute.



                                       PROS

1. You actually have someone that cares enough to send out a search team, even if you'll get bitched at later.

2.All the things they change at your place are little reminders they were there because of you.

3. You can actually brag about having a significant other.

4. If they don't like your friends then that gives you every right to not like some of his and get away with outrageous demands.

5. Someone that cares enough to think another man could take you away from him, and he doesn't want to lose you.

      All this is nothing but bullshit. My balls get busted too much when I have a man. I need adult supervision but not that kind. You liked me for who I was before we became official so don't try to change me afterwards. So skip the man and just have a fuck buddy. No stress, less mess, and no dress. Now if I could just get a man to meet my fuck buddy demands I'd be a happy girl. But I guess asking for sex once every meal break from someone who holds a steady job and has a life is too much to ask for. Hey I'm at my prime don't judge me!

Golddigger or Size Queen?

     Yes extra money laying around is nice to have but so is a big penis. So which do you choose? When you're bored both come in handy. If I had to pick one or the other I'd pick the big penis instead of the big wallet. Wallets can disappear if you use them too much, but if you use a big penis too much it'll probably stick around longer..no pun intended.

     But there is such thing as a penis that's too big. Here's a little story from my book that explains such occurrences.

     Noel, my gay ex-husband's cousin whom I lived with for about eight months or so was like a sister to me. Which made my real sister, Deanna uberly jealous, but if she had been hooking me up with guys as hot as Noel was hooking me up with she would have been Queen B. She's still my favorite sister, sometimes. Well she's my favorite when she's not on her period. I often wanted to beat Deanna up. I envisioned dragging her out the front door by her hair and giving her a good ass whooping. I never did because I knew my mother would disown me, even if it was just a gentle karate chop to the tits. It was the typical sisterly love. Noel on the other hand was chill, and easy to get along with. Probably from all the pot she smoked. This side of the family is Japanese, and whatever white people actually are. Noel was gorgeous. Nice color, long black hair, round white people eyes, no boobies (she tried to say she was a B cup, but she wasn't fooling me, padding doesn't count as part of your cup size, remember I did her chores? Including her laundry, go back to the MINOR? blog entry), and a great ass. Despite all these great attributes it still didn't stop my constant thoughts of plucking those eyebrows, they drove me nuts. No guys seemed to mind the eyebrows as soon as she told them she was part Japanese, that clever lady. We all know what goes through guys' heads when they hear a chick is Asian, freaky sex. The fact that she used that to her advantage made me proud. Like the mother of a chick that flies out of the nest for the first time.

My sort of cousin started introducing me to her friends, mostly guys. There was a couple that always stuck out in my head, Albie and Phillip. When Noel introduced me to Albie I couldn't believe my eyes. I had struck man gold! I owed Noel BIG time for this one. Albie's father is black and white, and his mother is Korean. And he's the best combination of all of those. Tall, dark and handsome. He modeled for Abercrombie & Fitch so of course his body was impeccable. We hit it off, and started hanging out several days a week.

One day I learned how much pot Albie smoked, a fucking lot! He asked me to take him to a friends house, I agreed. He was gorgeous and I wasn't going to miss out on spending anytime with him. I definitely wanted to be seen in public with him. We get to his friend's house, it was a chick. That's cool I'm alright with that. She wouldn't acknowledge my presence, that's cool too, jealous much bitch? She starts ranting about whatever drama is going on with her, boring, boring, boring. Then finally suggests we hot box it in her car. Thank freaking God! And I'm glad she said her car and not my POS, because knowing my luck the smoke would leak out the front windshield. (And a cop would just so happen to be riding past with his window down. They'd realize it before me, and get away and I'd still be stuck in the backseat on a car seat). In her car the three of us our smoking our brain cells dead. My phone rings, it's my mom. Mommy dearest needed me to pick up something from her house. I tell Albie and we head out. We weren't even three miles away from my mom's house, in the house I grew up in. In a city I spent my ENTIRE life in. I knew all the back roads by heart, and could drive them with me eyes shut. If someone told me they were by the farm on McDonough Road headed to my house, I could picture in my mind them driving, and point out the second they were about to turn onto my street. I knew my shit. Not this day. I got lost. What was supposed to be less then a seven minute drive became a 45 minute drive. “Dude you're smart, but you have no sense of direction when you're high”, says ye ol' wise one Albie. I literally drove in circles for thirty minutes before getting my bearings. As I pull up to my mom's house it finally dawns on me I'm high as a fucking kite, and to my knowledge she's never seen me high before. Play cool, play cool, my mom's a blond maybe she won't notice. Shit she's going to see I have a guy in the car and want to meet him.

      For most people this wouldn't be a big deal, but when your mom is a clown/cleaning lady/minister it is. Oh mother how ye embarrass me. And when you do so mommy dearest you know it, and always try to play it off as cutesy. She made us be a “clown family”when I was at the pubescent age of 12. Took as many family photos in this get up and made a photo album. She'd show anyone that came over to visit me. We don't even have a regular, normal people family photo album, oh no because that's not cute or embarrassing. So after awhile of me crying and complaining about her showing this photo album she stopped, unless my little sister, Deanna brought it out to share. See why I wanted to whoop her ass? It never failed, any guy I was remotely interested in would see me in the American flag parachute pants, white tuxedo jacket, painted face of what I can only describe as It's younger, more gentle, sarcastic sister, with a long red, curly haired wig. To really drive this point of embarrassment home, my clown mom became the PTA president of my middle school. That's right, she dressed as a clown when she did some of the PTA meetings. And it doesn't stop there. My mom is an ordained minister. Her favorite thing to say to people she just meets no matter how inappropriate it may be is this, “There's only two kinds of people I meet, the kind that are saved and the kind that are about to be. Which one are you?” And trying to talk anything about sex, relationships with my mother is impossible. If I ask her opinion on a guy problem her response is always, “Pray about it”. I remember asking her about sex, and people she's been with because let's face it she's been married a gazillion times. It never fails that what I ask gets her so uncomfortable that the only thing that comes out is, “That was B.C. Before Christ. You know before I became a Christian”. Imagine how frustrating it was to be a child let alone teenager in that house. But despite all my mom's quirks everyone loves her (except for the men in my life that she tortures with clown pictures and discussions of Christianity). This should give you a good idea why I was panicking when I realized I was not only high, but that there was a guy in the car. I decided this day my mother wouldn't have a chance to weave her Christian clown magic on my hottie with the body in my car. I pulled in jumped out and ran in grab said item and left. Albie thought I was nuts, I blamed it on the rain.

      Even though Albie knew his ranking in the scales of looks he preferred the woman to come and get it. I don't get this I never have. I get having confidence is hot, and if a chick comes onto a guy that's hot. But what about the ugly or average chicks that have false sense of cuteness and come onto guys? Do they still get the guy even though they aren't so hot just because of confidence? This has always confused me. Well apparently Albie liked overly confident girls period. I can be forward, but in general I'm not. And it's not that I'm not confident because I am, it's just I think a man should still do some chasing, you know just so you'll know it's not a one way affair. So weeks went by and he wasn't coming on to me. It didn't make sense. Yea we did the make out sessions but nothing further. Until one day we were at his house. He lived with his parents, yea I know what you're thinking but he had it fucking made in that big ass house I don't blame him for wanting to stay. He pulled me into his parents room and made it known that he wanted some ass. I was totally surprised for two reasons, one he finally wanted to do it, and two because he wanted to do it in his parents room. Gross. I could NEVER have sex in my parents room, let alone in their house. Even to this day I consider my parent's house a church. I'd repent for even thinking of sex while in their house. I didn't want to ruin my opportunity with Albie so I dismissed my second thought. Until he pulled it out. When I said earlier that he had all the great traits from the different races he was, this is one of them. That man was hung like a walrus, and I was scared speechless. So scared in fact I left, yep I left him on his mother's bed with his third leg out. I couldn't do it. I think I would've died if I had done it, and I didn't want to go down that way. Because I know if I went that way, my mother's revenge would be dressing me as a fucking clown and having an open casket.

     So that's the dilemma, good thing you don't run across a penis that's TOO BIG that often. That was actually the only time it had ever happened to me. But still would I rather have a big penis then a big wallet. I've had a big wallet before and I know for a fact I would've been happier if a big penis was there instead. So here's to men whom are well endowed!!! PS. Big Wallets are compensation for small penises and a LV purse isn't going to make sex feel any better.

What Happens In Vegas Stays In Vegas, Well Not This Time Part 2

     When I was booking our trip to Vegas I knew like I had mentioned before that I wanted, "balls in my face". Well when I was looking up tickets and dates I just couldn't commit to a particular show. There's like three male revues in Vegas and I just couldn't make up my mind, plus I don't really like planning. When we arrive in Vegas we see signs everywhere for the Thunder From Down Under show. It an Australian version of the Chippendale's. I think they're way hotter because they have those awesome accents. It might just be me since I have a thing for accents.

     Day one we're so exhausted probably since we both thought it was a good idea to party our ass' off the night before our 5:30am flight. We hadn't had a minute sleep since the day before. But we were stoked to be in Vegas and felt it appropriate to wonder from casino to casino checking everything out. As we're walking through the Luxor, which is one of my favorites by the way, we get waved over to a booth. They start asking if we're interested in any shows, and how much money I make a year. Find out they're trying to get people to view their new timeshare in the area and are willing to give us tickets to anything we want. I didn't know anything about timeshare but what I did know is that I wanted free tickets to Thunder From Down Under, especially since they were about $70 per ticket. What could go wrong? How bad could this be? Just a couple hours wondering around a condominium complex right? It had to be worth two free tickets and a voucher for dinner at the Luxor. HA HA HA HA HA!

     The next day we make sure we arrive in enough time to catch our shuttle from the hotel to the timeshare location. While we were making our way to the shuttle we decide to drink....a lot. I'm hammered by the time we sit down on the shuttle, with two pretzels, cheese dip and a water bottle in my purse. Quickly I realize after seeing like 20+ other couples on this bus thing that this is going to be boring as fuck, and apparently Jen and I are the only same sex couple. Looking at Jen with my drunken eyes I suggest to her we should act like we're "partners". She laughed and agreed. We kept on laughing about randomness the whole ride, mostly because we were drunk. And I'm sure everyone on that shuttle hated us. I'm sure because they tried cutting me off when I was making my way off the bus/shuttle/whatever.

     We arrive and they immediately escort us to a waiting area. What or should I say whom are we waiting for ....... Satan himself trying to get us to sell our souls for 80,000 vacations points per year. Once our escort takes us into a small conference room to see a presentation Jen and my show begins. Satan is asking us how we met, when, where, blah blah. I tell him we met in high school, which is actually the truth. But the not so truth that we're life partners. "I had to get married to a man and have children before I realized she was the one for me", as I look lovingly into her "I hate you for trying to make me laugh" eyes, and stroked her back. And it worked, I couldn't believe he was buying it, maybe I should look into acting. After one very boring presentation where we were told we can't use the restroom during, a few long stares of love, and a couple affectionate strokes we were off to look at the property. It wasn't bad actually, it really reminded me of an upscale retirement facility with a casino for the price of $15,876 down and a monthly payment of $1,175 for the next 7,465 months. Presentation, tour, and my buzz over, now we were lead to a very large and open conference area. Satan offers us sandwiches that had been there for days and a water. We sit now here comes the possible collection of our souls. Good God those prices are ridiculous, and every time I say I'm not interested the price goes down, and a manager pops up. I see they have the voucher for our free shit in their hand unsigned, and I feel so close to the light at the end of the tunnel. I swear they were waving that voucher in front of our faces just to see if we'd take their bait. Not me, ohhhhh not me. Jen's playing good cop, that bitch, while I have to be the bad cop. Normally no problem for me playing either because I can be a charming angel as well as a bitch with no transitional period in between, ask either of the ex husbands. As Jen is giving me the it's all up to you look like we are really life partners, and Satan breathing down my neck I snap. "I am ready to leave now, I'm hungry and I don't want to be here any more." Satan chimes in, "Well there's sandwiches over there." Rage has now filled my body and is taking over like a virus. After a few more minutes I get them to sign our voucher for the free shit that I'm now thinking isn't worth it because I just want to leave. The sirens of the casino have been calling my name for about three hours now.

     Now sitting in a much smaller waiting room, a woman, I guess Satan's wife offers us the same deal but for only $189 down and $189 a month. They've got to be fucking kidding me. How did we go from my soul to $189 a month? They are out of their fucking minds. Yes I was tempted with this deal, but I still had to say no just for the principle of it all. So she takes us to ANOTHER waiting room. We sit there for a few minutes watching a Vegas Drag show, why didn't they offer tickets to that? I might have spent my soul if they had had one of those Drag Queens giving us the presentation and tour. We get called to a little office where this petite Hispanic woman asks us what tickets do we want, shows over I'm not her life partner any longer when it comes to hot naked men. "Thunder From Down Under please", I say. She leaves the room and Jen leans over to tell me something. "Hey you remember when you were texting on the escalator and was a bit behind us?" "Yes?" I suspiciously ask. "Well he whispered to me that he could tell who wears the pants in our relationship". Damn straight Satan, me! Yes I might've been wearing a sundress, with BCBG wedges, but I for damn sure wear the fucking pants in my relationships, real ones or fake lesbian ones it doesn't matter.


    

    

What Happens In Vegas Stays In Vegas, Well Not This Time

     Well I made it back alive and out of any legal trouble, just in case you were wondering. But I did have a faux wedding, and a lesbian relationship for a day.

     I'll start with the faux wedding. Jennifer and I decided before we even got to Vegas we had a few things we wanted to do while we were there. One being seeing naked men dance in front of our faces, I forgot the second one already, and the third being get married to piss off our mothers. We'd settle for slight cardiac arrests. The most important reason we wanted to get married to a random man in Vegas is for their home location. In hopes their home location being of an exotic location. So of course we'd have a vacation spot with free room and board. I was shooting for a man from Maui or the like and Jen was dreaming of a summer vacation on a villa in Puerto Rico with her new hubby. Maybe we could even talk them into buying their lovely new brides tickets to their new hometowns.Or we could at least vacation during our annulments.

     Honestly after our first day in Vegas I completely forgot about this part of our to do list. We met so many people it was hard to decide what to do and who to do. I think it was our second night after we stumbled out of club number four of the night that we ran into a few guys from Vegas. Well not originally but they were locals and funny as shit. My feet were killing me and as I was giving into the pain and taking my heels off that's when we ran into them. One offered to carry me. I was leery about accepting, not because he was a stranger but because I thought I was going to break his back. Once I quizzed his physical abilities I gave in. He only had 10lbs on me. I'll have to give him props he didn't drop my drunk ass. Fifty feet later we got into a cab, all five of us. I proceeded to bitch at the cab driver about driving us through the strip and not the highway. It had only taken me a day of $30+ cab rides to realize their "shortcuts" were taking us an additional five fucking miles out of the way. At least I caught onto those bastards sooner then later. Plus I kept wondering why we had to go onto the interstate just to get to the opposite end of the strip. In the cab I must have done a lot of complaining over achy feet because I was getting foot rubs, and I hope Jen did too. We get to our hotel make our way to the room. I immediately changed out of my dress and into sweats. That's why I look like a ninja in the pics above at the wedding chapel. We all decided to leave the hotel for reasons I'm still unclear of. I just remember when we stumbled out I saw a wedding chapel and it dawned on me that that was our plan. So I proposition the men. Marry us, like now. Ok not a proposition more like a demand. They happily agreed, Score!! If I would've known it was this easy to marry a hot man I would've done it a long time ago. Well you see the pics so you know how it goes. The one where we're all mooning the camera man is going to be my Christmas card this year. Yep my lily white ass is what you have forward to this holiday season. For our wedding reception we tried calling all the numbers in the book of ads for 70+ year old women or gay men to come celebrate with us. I swear to God it sounded like the same bitch answering the phone every time no matter what number we dialed. My last call to such bitch ended like this.

Bitch: (with too much attitude to be an escort answering service representative) What do you want? You need to call from a hotel number because I don't believe you want a woman to come give you lap dances when you call from a long distance number.
Me: I just want a 70+ year old woman to give us a lap dance. And everyone here is from out of town so what does that matter?
Bitch: Well I just don't believe you blah blah blah blah
Me: Well you're a cunt C-U-N-T, cunt
Bitch: No I'm not, you sound like a teenager, I bet you're not even old enough to get in a casino.
Me: Why the fuck didn't you just hang up on me when I called you a cunt then spelled it out?

     Dumb ass bitch I think I'm going to give her a buzz this week for a lil pow wow. Maybe she'll be willing to meet for lunch next time I go to Vegas. I like long distance relationships.

Gaymance

     Forget romance (it's overrated, thanks a lot Hollywood), even forget bromance, let's talk about gaymance. That's right I'm referring to that special relationship that a straight girl has with her gay BFF. I think every girl needs her own gay. Those days where I'd run into a friendly gay everywhere I went in Atlanta are missed. I haven't ever been without my own gay until I moved here to Florida.We don't have very many gay men here mostly lesbians. The only gay man I know here is our House Dad at work. He's amazing in every way. He cooks, does hair, talks about men, you name all the fun stuff he does it. I'm not going to mention his age (in fear of him kicking my ass later or maybe just pulling my hair and scratching my face) but let's just say he has more hot men knocking on his (back) door then I do at the good ol' ripe age of 28. And why wouldn't he? He's gay, funny as hell, and just simply amazing.

     Of course when I lived in Atlanta I had my share of gaymances. Even in Germany I had one of my favorite gays. I loved how in Europe people are so open about everything. Men wear speedos to the beach with no worries of harassment. Same goes with gay men/teens. I can't tell you how many fests I went to in Germany, (fests aka big ass out door party, where everyone get's shit faced on 500 year old cobblestone, and and smoke weed in the crevices of even older buildings downtown. And they have them year round, in every city there, any excuse to party for free out in public.) where I'd see teens as young as 13 being open about their sexuality. I loved it! Now I wasn't a big fan of seeing old, obese, wolf-like creatures wearing speedos to the beach, but the fact no one gave a shit made me happy. My dream is that before I die the U.S. of good ol A starts being more like Europe. The gays are free and open, the fat men free to wear their manly, leopard print g-strings on the beach or at the pools, and I can be naked at those same pools and beaches in my own leopard print g-string if I want.

Side Note: My 27th birthday trip to Ibiza, Spain was my first experience being topless in a public place. I had to get Larry drunk before he'd let me do it. I really think he gave in because he knew that I knew he was only their to see the local tits. So when I took my top off on those sandy beaches of Ibiza I felt so free. Then so pissed that the fucking prudes in the states had been keeping me from this feeling my whole life. Fucking bastards they are. We were born naked, so what's the big deal?

     So as of now I have no local gaymance. A modern girl really needs this in her life. What straight female relationship is as honest as a gaymance? Not very many if any. Think about it this ladies, how many times have you been getting ready for a date and you ask your bestie if you look fat in something, she always says no. She'd say you look great in anything. You want to test this? Put on some corduroy flairs, and a top with horizontal lines. Now ask her if you look fat. She's going to say no, because most likely she's single and misrable and wants you to stay on that bandwagon with her. BUT if you had a gaymance in that same situation, that queen wouldn't even let you keep those corduroy flairs in your closet, he'd already be lighting those bitches on fire in the sink. See that's a good fucking friend right there. Plus you can do an array of other awesome in your gaymance.

   Awesome Things You Can Do Having A Gaymance

1. Talk about boys without either getting jealous.
2. If someone says size queen in front of the two of you, you both look at each other with a look like which one of us is he referring to?
3. You two will most likely never have the same competition.
4. Your gay will never let you go out the house looking like shit, ever. Now the way he tells you that your original clothing choice for the evening sucks might be a bit harsh, but just remember he actually means well.
5. You can take him into the ladies room and/or dressing room without people thinking you're a whore and going to fuck in there.
6. He knows how to put dumb ignorant people in their place. This is my favorite. I consider myself quick witted, but sometimes ignorant people through me off by their stupidity. BUT if you had a gaymance he's got your back and will put that little shit in their place in a heartbeat. And then all's you have to say afterwards to the little shit is a good strong "YEA!"

     Someone please bring me a new gay!

Disclaimer: I'm not trying to offend anyone in particular, just trying to offend everyone!

Maxed Out

Sex Partner Number: 18

A couple months after moving to Florida from Germany I was formally introduced to Craig's List. I know I was behind several years, but when you're living in Germany who the fuck needs the Internet? Gina being my best friend told me to get on there and look at whatever I was interested in. That moment in time I had a Coach addiction. So my Craig's List browsing was of just that. Bored by the selection I looked at clothes. I found a great deal. This chick was selling clothes from Abercrombie and the like with tags still on them. I'm not known for looking for deals, or being cheap but I wasn't letting this opportunity go to waste. Once in the car with Gina a few months before this we were discussing being frugal. This statement actually came out of my mouth, “I tried being frugal once, it's just not for me.” Gina still reminds me of that.

I contacted the seller of said clothes, and we made a time a place, her place for me to look at the clothes. I make the drive to her place. She met me in the parking garage and showed me where to park. Once parked she said she was getting her boyfriend to bring the box of clothes down for me. I thought nothing of it and we started chatting. She was this short, long haired Asian chick. Cutesy but not hot. No boobs of course, but a great sense of style. She was one of those Asian girls that act like white girls, no biggie I just liked that I could understand her when she spoke. But I bet she sucks at driving. We talked about her job as a bartender at T.G.I. Friday's or Applebee's or whatever lame ass chain restaurant it was, and babysitting. (I haven't been able to eat at these sorts of restaurants since my return from Germany. Once you get real food from a good restaurant in a different country your taste will never be the same.) I wasn't working at the time, and was wondering what it was like to work at a bar. Think of the men you could meet, but think of the ugly shoes you'd have to wear. Not worth it. I wouldn't wear a pair of those black tennis shoes if my life depended on it. There's no way to make those things cute.

Suddenly the door to the building opens, and out comes one of the hottest men I've ever seen holding a box of tagged Abercrombie clothes. One of the greatest sights in my life. I was instantly in love. I upped my charm. Yea it was her boyfriend but they couldn't possibly last, he was too hot for her. I can't even describe him because it would do him no justice at all. I sorted through the clothes making sure my bosom was known. He saw my lil ones in the car and went on and on about how cute they were. Crap even more sexy then I thought he could be. I purchased a few items and left. On my drive home I thought about how I could break them up and keep him as my own, oh well wishful thinking, or so I thought.

Fast forward several months. It was a month or so after I started working at Sammy's as when a couple familiar faces came in. The Asian and her man Max. Slightly disappointed of the relationship they had that was still going on I made my way to them to say hi. She only vaguely remembered me but I had a feeling his memory was more then vague. We did the usual small talk you do of two people that made a Craig's List exchange and I went back to working. Every chance I got I'd look his direction. I thought of all the ways I could injure her so that it looked like an accident, you know to make myself feel better.

A few weeks later I'm at work on a busy Friday night. It's so busy in fact that it's hard to make money. I know that sounds crazy but it isn't. If it's really busy and crowded you really don't have room to talk to the guys to get more tips out of them. If you do manage to sit with a group they normally can't hear you because there's so much noise. It makes for bad small talk. How am I supposed to charm the money right out of their wallets if they can't hear my charm? Well just as I start giving up on the night in walks a familiar face. A very familiar face. The face of one of the hottest guys I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, Max.

As soon as I spot Max I went in for it, he was alone this time. Score! I walked right up to him as he was ordering a drink at the bar. I couldn't wait to talk to him, and I couldn't risk a dancer getting to him first. Plus I knew he'd remember me. He did. We move our conversation over to a table. He starts telling me about how he was leaving in a couple weeks for training elsewhere (he was in the Navy). How he is going to the West Coast right after, and how he hates his girlfriend. OMG OMG he hates her, I'm seriously getting him before he leaves I have to. I wonder what that Asian bitch did to piss him off? Who cares and thank God she did! But why would she fuck up being with a man of this caliber when she's just a wannabe sorority girl working at a lame ass chain restaurant? I'just work at a strip club I know but I haven't always been in this position, I was accomplished at some point. Ok Ok you're now brain fucking the situation. You must concentrate!

I change the girlfriend subject by telling him how cute he was, and how hot I thought he was from that first day we met in the parking garage. Ego stroking is what I like to call it. He then tells me how he also thought I was hot. The deal is sealed now, I am going to get some.

Now during this time I was totally in love with my best friend, Stephen. Stephen was the other hottest men I'd ever been with. He lived in Vegas, but was planning on visiting me the following week. That was my dilemma. Did I not do Max to make sure I didn't ruin things with Stephen if he decided to be with me when he got here? I still wasn't 100% sure how Stepehen felt about me. We had met in Germany a couple years before in class. We fucked then lost touch then got back in touch right before he was going to move back to the states. I was miserable where I was in life and my relationship so I decided to follow Stephen to the states. He encouraged it, well talked me into it. I felt like Stephen was really the one. But if he wasn't and I didn't sleep with Max I'd regret it. Decision made I'd sleep with Max, and it would be my one last Hoorah before Stephen came to be with me if that's what he was coming for.

Max reminded me of what I was wearing the day we met. Total turn on let me just say because you know a man digs you if the can remember what you wore the first time you met months and months ago. He also informed me of how jealous his girlfriend was of me and my boobs. And that she kept asking him if he thought they were fake. That turned me on even more.  I wanted to make sure good and well that he knew I was hot, and interested. I gave him my number and he gave me his. I told him I was going home and to call me. He did of course. When he got to my place it was immediately on. I don't know where or why it slipped my mind that Max was a 22 year old from the country, that had a long term girlfriend, but it did. His hotness didn't completely override his inexperience. No wonder the Asian chick was a bitch, she wasn't getting off. If I went that long without an orgasm from my boyfriend I'd be a bitch too. It wasn't the worst I had but it wasn't the best. I was just glad he was super hot, that made up for most of the inexperience. Once we were done I had to take a picture or two of him. You know to remind myself later of the hottie I pulled for myself, and to e-mail it to Gina so she'd have something to look at later. I know I'm a good friend.

It didn't stop there, he came over again a couple days later on his lunch. This was my first experience with premature ejaculation. Am I supposed to feel proud? Well all pride got squashed when the lady at the pharmacy made me feel like a slut for getting the morning after pill. That bitch! No wonder we have so many teenage pregnancies, people like her and her fucking judgment. The next day he was supposed to come over again. It got canceled because he said he had to go back into work. No worries I'd just go shopping. I take my lil ones with me and we shop for hours. As we started to head out the main entrance who do I see? Max and Asian girl talking to some friends. They both looked at me. Oh fuck, does she know? Am I about to get my ass kicked at the mall? How fast with the guy on the segway get to me if I'm getting my ass beat? Just don't look, don't look. I walked past as if I didn't even recognize them. He called me later. Asked if he could come over. I said no. I couldn't risk an ass whooping or another premature ejaculation.

Women Rule The World, Too Bad The Majority of Them Are Dumb Bitches

     I know what you're thinking. Since when do women rule the world? No I'm not on shrooms at the moment and yes women do. Just because the majority of the world's leaders are men doesn't mean jack shit. Men try to gain power politically to have control in some way of their life, and to prove they are powerful. Why? To impress women, or their woman and show them they have power and try to get their balls back. See while they may get to veto shit, and get escorted around by a limo service, with a bunch of men in suits, women are really telling them what to do. Think about that same powerful man coming home from a long day at the capital or where ever he works to stroke his ego. Gets home to his wife, and she's a controlling bitch. She tells him what to wear, what to eat, when they can have sex, etc... Then he feels like less of a man, she's in control. And I bet she doesn't even work a job, give a good bj or contribute in any significant way to get an all powerful leader of a country to do what she wants. It's not necessarily him being pussy whipped either. Hence the rampant cheating warpath they go on in spite of her. They still aren't in control even then. Deny is what they do when they get caught not for fear of the public, because most men in that position resign, but fear of their bitchy controlling wives.

     This applies to all men, not just the rich and powerful, or regular Joe Smo that's married.
 ALL MEN! Single men why do you work hard to make lots of money? for a nice bachelor pad? a sports car? Yes, but all those things are to attract what? Women. Or if you're gay, womanly like men aka twinks. So ladies we control all men whether we're with them or not, hot or not, or even know them or not. Every move a man makes is all in some sort of round about way to impress us. And in hopes to get into one of our pants.

     Ladies now that you know you're responsible for all that goes on in the world, act like it! Stop being so controlling in the worst ways possible! I am so sick of seeing women treat their men like crap just because they're feeling a bit insecure. It's one thing to just be insecure in general, but insecure in your relationship means you're most likely doing something wrong, and you're doing it to yourself. Now I can talk bad about men and how much they annoy me or drive me nuts all damn day. But as you can see today's rant is about turning dumb bitches into smart bitches. You're always going to be a bitch one way or another.

     The best way to control a man and to get him to do what you want is to not try to control him. Think about all the times guys treated you like they didn't care what you did. It only made you try harder to get their attention right? And what did you do to get that attention? whatever the fuck he wanted! Let's start using some reverse psychology here. It's not some new concept that was recently discovered. Men like a chase, give ém one. Plus then it shows he likes you for real, and you get what you want.

     And because you know I like lists, here's a list of things I hate seeing women do to their man.

1. Go out with the ladies, and when your man decides he'll go out with the guys since you won't be home to fornicate you get all pissed. He wants to go out for the same reasons you do, to look at hot people of the opposite sex, drink, and dance with his buddies without shoes on in a circle surrounding their satchels. Why say no? You worried he's going to find a woman hotter then you that won't treat him as shitty as you?

2. Don't make him watch gay shit on T.V. I know I wouldn't want him to make me watch cars go in circles for 5 hours straight. So why make him watch people paint and decorate their neighbors house while on vacation. If you don't like what he's watching leave, work out, do your toes, read a book, take a bath, call your mother, all the things he wouldn't want to be doing with you.

3. Pitch fits to get your way. I think I hate this one the most. Mainly because it reminds me of my kids whining and pitching fits. It's so annoying. All's it does is just get him to agree to anything you want to shut you up. But that's the point right? Not necessarily, depends on what your bitching about. Is it him not sending friendly texts with his coworker your jealous of? Well sure he'll agree to not text but doesn't mean he won't e-mail her. (E-mails are harder to track too! at least if he's just texting her you can always call the phone company and get the records) And then next thing you know it they're banging in the copy room on lunch.

4. Get mad when he checks out other chicks. Get over it. Don't think he'll stop just because you tell him you're upset that he does it. He won't, and next time he might not check anyone out he'll just imagine what the  bartender's nipples look like even if she looks like Whoopi Goldberg's twin. Let him check out girls, then this will give you full reign on scoping out men in front of him and even making subtle comments about it. Remember you're a woman and you have more of a shot of hooking up with the hottie on the beach then he does hooking up with the 40 year old woman at Zale's. Women control men, if not with their words with their boobies.

5. Complain about his spending habits. Unless you're about to file for Chapter 13 17 whatever leave it be. And don't mention you saw his credit card statements that said he spent $200 at the porn store until you see this season's latest Coach collection. Cash these tidbits of knowledge only when necessary, yes Coach's spring line is necessary.

6. Never talk shit on his bedroom skills. You just might be cut off. Then you'll have to pull out one of those 20 or so dildos your friends gave you for your birthday five years ago that you have in your closet and invest in a lot of D batteries. Honey I think Energizers stock just went up!

     What to bitch about.....

1. Hair in the sink, that shit just gets everywhere.
2. Dirty laundry on the floor, bitch I ain't your momma.
3. His driving capabilities, no one wants to die just because he feels the need to race to Captain D's before they close.
4. Him banging other chicks, yes bitch about this then dump his skank ass and pray he gets herpes.
5. His hag of a mother, just because it's fun.
6. His friends being morons. That's fun too!


     So ladies stop being stupid bitches, or I'll take your man (well as long as he's hot or if he's not I'll do it just for fun). We're already in control without trying, so why micromanage?

To Chippendale or Not To Chippendale?

  Just sitting here thinking about the Vegas trip I'm taking next week with my friend from high school Jen. Our first night there we're going to see the Chippendale dancers preform. Every time I think of this one of two things pops up in my head. One, the scene from the movie Bridesmaids where the blonde chick from Reno 911 is on the phone talking about how bad she wants to go to Vegas because she wants, "balls in my face". And two, the night a few weeks ago where I got to hang out with the Chippendale dancers that came here to my town to preform.

     I am very glad and grateful I got to see them preform for many reasons. I'm a list kind of person so I'm going to make one.

    Reasons I'm Glad I Got To See the Chippendale Dancers Preform In My New Hometown

1. I work at a strip club and see naked women all the time. I'm not a lesbian. You catch my drift?
2. They have AMAZING, PERFECTLY sculpted bodies.
3. I got to be picky about the naked men I see.
4. Recently had a very bad break up from someone I love very dearly. He was the last hot guy I got to see  naked.
5. Not everyday you see a man that can actually dance.
6. I got to hang out with them, after being grinded (or ground on?  I'm confused how the past tense form of this word should be in this context. But if ground on is the proper one I'll have serious issues with that because it sounds like coffee crushed in my lap.)  on for awhile during the show. And no I wasn't one of those girls scared to touch them, I was all on that like white on rice.
7. I had a coworker with me, and she had already met them their previous performance a few days before so I knew I'd get to meet them. Thanks! *you know who you are ;)
8. The most important reason is I needed something or someone else to think about besides my ex- boyfriend...and it worked.
9. Bragging rights.
10. Possible once in a lifetime opportunity, well at least for most women.

    Before heading out that night I debated for awhile on what to wear. I didn't want to dress up, because that would seem like I was trying to impress some male strippers, and it's uncomfortable duh. So I wore some new white lace type of Hollister shorts, paired with a ocean blue snug Hollister top, and of course sandals. No bra, but underwear. I show off the ladies in subtle ways when possible. I didn't pay good money not to get recognition for them.  I arrive at the venue early, yes I was very excited. Waiting for what seems like forever. It had been awhile for me don't judge me and my eagerness. Finally after what seemed like forever and a day the doors opened. I payed my cover only after getting hit on by the bouncers, see my lovely lady lumps pay off. Go straight to the bar and grab a drink and one for my lady friend that met me there. Twenty minutes or so later we find out they aren't starting for another hour and a half. Slightly disappointed we head to the strip club attached to the building next door and watch the ladies dance. I grab more drinks. At work I involuntarily watch my fellow coworkers but here I'm just trying to kill time, and honestly watching chicks dance just isn't my thing (refer to reason #1 previously mentioned). Some of the Chippendale dancers came in to hang out before the show. They were hot, but one was obnoxious like that blue and yellow fish on Finding Nemo. And the other one acted pissed like someone just prison raped him then stole all his money. Ten o'clock rolls around and they're finally going to start the show. Thank freaking God because I don't think I could've tolerated anymore naked women hitting on these men right in front of me, especially when I knew they didn't stand a chance. It was actually sad to watch. And no I'm not cocky I'm confident, I actually just think I'm cutesy with a hot body. And I was on a mission remember? getting over my ex. And nothing was going to stand in my way. I don't think any of those girls in the club that night was experiencing the kind of pain I was at the time. I'd go into it but I don't want to sound pathetic.

     The show started and it wasn't what I expected but it was in a way. I was just glad to have hot guys in front of me. I'm sure you can imagine what happened from here. Bare chests walking around, ripped pants, construction hats, a little lip syncing and a lot of dancing. I thoroughly enjoyed myself. Did you know they groped you? That was a pleasant surprise. Even felt a little ego boost rumbling inside of me. From all that happened that night my ex would've been so jealous AND his calling me a slut finally rang true. But you know what FUCK YOU STEPHEN! I'm not going to kiss and tell but by the end of the night someone's white ass was against a windshield and it wasn't mine, and that was the SECOND time around that night.

     So now here it is five days before Vegas and a new set of Chippendale dancers and a different friend. What to do? Do I go for the gold again? I did it before because I figured it was an once in a lifetime opportunity. Will it be a twice in a lifetime opportunity? What do I wear this time? Can't dress beachy because well I won't be at the beach anymore. So dress deserty, Vegas deserty. I guess I'll wear heels this time. No I will not wear a bra, I'm not even packing one for Vegas, period. I just know that whatever happens this time, I'm taking pictures.......and sending them to Stephen.



*****Stole the pic from my friend's Facebook, she was smart enough to actually get pictures of them. I on the other hand got pictures for my eyes only (then felt guilty and erased them). Sorry ladies!

The DJ Says I Think Like A Man

     I actually have no problem with the DJ at work telling me I think like a man. It's a compliment to me. And it gives me an excuse to burp and fart in public. Yet I remain in a beautiful shell of a woman. Win Win! Who wouldn't want to think like a man? It is all so simplistic.

     Now if you're interested in thinking like a man here's a few pointers. Think simply. Don't think ahead or try to plot out your next move or the moves of others. Because well that can make you psycho. Enough with the brain fucking! Don't give a shit about what people think, but this doesn't mean be an asshole. It just means be yourself. Say what you mean, and mean what you say. Get easily distracted. Think about sex A LOT. These last two things makes life more interesting. So be like a man and imagine men how men imagine us when they see us, naked. No one has to know, and no one will ever find out, unless you tell them. But don't be dumb and tell your friend you just imagined her man pile driving you.

     I know most men come off as assholes, but if you can't beat ém join ém! Not getting so emotional (which I still do at times because I do have female DNA) will make you more attractive. Now I've never tried to think like a man it just comes naturally. It makes more sense to me now that I'm older that I always had more guy friends then chick friends. Honestly chicks annoy me, they're whiny, and most will through you under a bus quicker then a man can make a home run with a hooker off of Lovejoy( over by Hurlburt Field, in case you're interested). Plus good chick friends are hard to come by, those bitches can be so judgmental.  Plus if you're remotely attractive they hate on you in passive aggressive ways, who needs that shit to worry about? Not me! I've even been able to separate emotions from sex when need be. Ladies if you aren't doing this by now and aren't uberly religious you need to jump on this band wagon. Seriously getting regular booty without having to commit or give yourself emotionally is great. For several reasons. One you don't get your feelings hurt, plus why would you want to give your feelings to a man that's willing to use you for sex? (Did you just say double standard? Shut up that's thinking like a woman.) Two you don't have to make room for his toothbrush in your bathroom, makes more room for your makeup, deodorant, sex toy cleaner, or whatever. Three you don't have to worry about sharing your bed and what you do in your sleep. Whether he spends the night or not. You can fart in your sleep worry free because if happens to hear and gets turned off no problem you have nothing invested in him except for the conversation of being fuck buddies. If he doesn't stay the night you keep the bed like it always is, sheets still tucked in and plenty of room. Four, so you're getting ass on a regular and meet a great guy. You'll be able to hold off from sex with him until you know for sure he's worthy of your more pleasurable emotional sex. And it'll give you time to ditch the regular. If great guy turns out to be not so great guy, then you still get side booty and haven't lost or invested anything. Five you're cutting down your risk of STD's by sticking with one person and not sleeping around with everyone, plus a real person is better then toys, they can't pull your hair or smack your ass. Six there's always the possibility of you and fuck buddy eventually getting together, haven't you seen Friends With Benefits? Well I haven't but I'm guessing that's how it ends. I told you I think like a man, I don't watch that mushy bullshit.

     So I know some of you are sitting on your moral high horse right now looking down on me because I'm promoting not only sex before marriage, but sex without love or emotion blah blah blah. But I don't want to hear it. You know why? Because there's no way in hell I'd marry someone without trying the goods first. I can see waiting awhile during the dating period, but not until marriage. I can't even fathom the thought of arriving in a tropical paradise, then racing to the bedroom to just be disappointed. Then hoping it'd get better or him get bigger and it never happen. It's a turn off. I know for a fact if the sex is bad they start getting uglier and uglier. It's just a deal breaker. Often I say things are deal breakers, if they don't like Chick-Fil-A, deal breaker! If they don't like Will Ferrell, deal breaker! If they don't have the words memorized to either Land of The Lost or Stepbrothers, deal breaker! If their teeth are jacked up, deal breaker! So if they're bad in bed, deal breaker! It only makes sense who wants to be in a bad sex relationship with no Will Ferrell jokes, or quotes, which will inevitably lead to a no sex relationship. No thanks! I'd rather be alone. Because if you're going to tolerate someone who doesn't like Will Ferrell (or enter any other of your favorite actors name here) then you'll tolerate bad sex and a lifetime of unfulfilled bed escapades. And again like the blonde chick from Reno 911 on Bridesmaids, while sitting on the airplane talking to the ginger about her sex life, "you've only been with your husband? you don't even know what you want yet, that's what those slutty college years are for. "

Don't Let Me Get Bored or I'll Think About Paraplegic Strippers

      Since working at the club I have a lot of free time on my hands waiting for customers to come in. We open early in the afternoon because let's face it men are constantly horny. And no one can put their finger on when exactly one guy will be horny/bored enough to go to a strip club. So to keep up with Mother Nature we try to stay open as much as possible.

     When I first started last August, I'd just fuck around and play on the pole, or attempt to climb it. To this day I can't climb our Big pole on stage two. My fear of heights gets the best of me every time I try. Plus it hurts my shins. Other times I'd play Uno with my coworkers. Actually the Uno days are some of my fave days with the coworkers. If drinking was involved with those games I can see them getting ugly.  Now when I'm bored at work I read mostly. Anything psychology or humorous. Hey I need an edge to get the most out of the customers, and it has worked for me. Or either I'm just very charming, yea that's it I'm charming.

     One night it was so slow. My friends had just left from visiting me after receiving an "I'm bored come see me now" text. A group of four young guys came in. I had already got money out of two of the four before I decided to try conversing with them. There was a pretentious pussy (to make these types of guys feel like less of humans I tell them the truth which is I don't have cable or internet, and I read all the time. Because this country needs more people like me that do this and doesn't give in to the media's propaganda) amongst them that just rubbed me the wrong way so I knew I'd exclude him from the conversation. Sorry I don't speak jackass. The other of the two that hadn't spent money on anything but the bottled water he had in front of him remained quiet. His loss, maybe if he had had got some alcohol in his system he would've been more fun. Worked for me, I don't mind an audience.

     The two guys that did have functioning mental and vocal capabilities were quite entertaining, and one was well pretty cute for a 21 year old. So to impress this younger generation I decide to tell them some of my ideas for some sketch comedy skits. What I think is a diamond in the rough idea that I hope catches on soon. Just try to visualize the following. And I'm describing it just as I described it to these four young men, with moldable minds.


                                                     The Paraplegic Stripper

*Upbeat rock music starts to play, maybe Kid Rock's Cowboy or Metallica's Sandman, I don't know you get the drift.

  Suddenly a sparkle of chrome flashes and catches the corner of an audience members eye as the strobe light reflects off of a wheel of a wheelchair. Patron has a shocked but intrigued look on his face, and is curious to see what's about to happen.

DJ: Gentlemen get situated in your seats just like Sparkle here, because she's here to keep you just as glued to your seats as she is.

*Sparkle now is in full view followed by Jazmin pushing her out to the stage. Patron still curious, watches Jazmin pull something out of her g-string. It's a zip tie. She gets Sparkle to the pole slowly and seductively as the music gets faster. Bending over as Sparkle is flashing her pearly whites to the crowd, Jazmin zip ties the wheel of the chair to the pole and pushes the chair as hard as she can. She then backs off as Sparkle is spinning her little stripper heart out, her hair blowing in the breeze. The chair slows down as the music is winding down. Jazmin grabs Sparkle placing her hands on her shoulders for her finale. She starts shaking her shoulders back and forth violently to make every man in the audience want to be in the midst of a motorboat with Sparkle. Patron taken back by what he just saw makes it rain on Sparkles and Jazmin. Song ends and Jazmin puts a bucket on Sparkles lap while throwing all the tips inside. (Yes if you want to know, Jazmin is jealous of all Sparkles attention and doesn't give her the original 50/50 as per their agreement. She feels she deserves more because well she did do all of the work. Tough shit Sparkles, you should've hooked up with the late Superman when you had the chance and you wouldn't have been in this situation.) Jazmin rolls Sparkles off the stage. Patron now uberly horny patron decides he wants a lap dance from the wheelchair duo.

Uberly Horny Patron: How much is a dance?
Sparkles: It's thir..(suddenly interrupted by Jazmin)
Jazmin: It's $50 the house get's $10 so I like to make sure Sparkles gets what she deserves
Patron: Ok that works
Sparkles: (confused by Jazmin's statement) Let's go over there.
Jazmin: (whispers into Sparkles ear) You're going to get what you deserve

*Jazmin pushes Sparkles, and escorts patron to the private dance area. He sits. Jazmin proceeds to take Sparkles top off, she then dumps Sparkles onto the man's lap. Then moves the chair out of the way. Sparkles is now sliding down the man, and looks panicked. Jazmin catches her before she hits the floor, holds her onto patron and starts shaking her violently like she did on stage just this time on patron. Dance over, Sparkles slithers down patron like lava down a volcano. The money collected my Jazmin, of course and Sparkles loaded back onto her wheelchair. Mission accomplished.


     So once I finish telling my sketch to the guys, they all had a very surprised looks on their faces. The two guys with a sense of humor laughed. Then the cute one tells me this, "Uhm so I think you need to get cable and internet back. You have way too much time on your hands. All the time is making you have sick thoughts. The time wasted on t.v. will prevent you from thinking of crazy shit like that." Then he laughed and said my idea was funny. His more intelligent friend thought it was hilarious. So we proceeded to the topic of nugget porn and how they sign the consent forms. Then of course it led to the conversation of McDonald's Chicken McNuggets. I have a feeling McDonald's wouldn't appreciate my endorsement.

And then there's Tazer Panties.......

Just A Lil Part of The Chapter "I'm My Own Worst Enemy"

Several years, and a gay husband later I met Larry. He was my first military boyfriend and I found him quite interesting. The military world was completely foreign to me. I thought it sounded sexy saying my boyfriend was a sergeant. I think it was the uniform and tattoos that really got me. So like the beginning of any romantic relationship we fucked like rabbits. I'd stay on post in his barracks room three to four nights a week. He'd get up before the butt crack of dawn for duty, and I'd leave later when I woke up. If I wasn't up and out before lunch he'd come back to his room for a nooner, even if I was sick. Which was often because sleeping in his room was like sleeping on the iceberg that sunk the Titanic. Who doesn't love a man that'll bang you while you're hacking up a lung?

One night after a good 20 minutes of rabbit fucking we passed out. Some time in the night my colon decided it hated me, and it was pissed. To this day I'm still not sure how I pissed my colon off that night but I did. No laxatives, Chinese food, alcohol, or fried foods. What the fuck was its problem?

I'm a very thoughtful girlfriend in the way of farting because I won't do them audibly in front of my man. Silently yes, audibly no. I have a strategy for farts around my man, the master deception. Example if we're laying in bed, an urge to fart knocks at my asshole, I pretend I'm hot and start tossing and turning. I position myself with my face towards the middle of the bed, ass towards the edge of the bed. I let my sphincter relax, and out comes the fart. As it's coming out I lift the covers up slightly, and gently fan it outwards. Voile! I don't have to hold it in, and no one knows it's there but me. Unfortunately this night it sounded like Zeus was angrily shooting lightning bolts out of my ass and it felt like it too. Larry was a deep sleeper but I was still praying to God. Praying that if my explosives farts didn't wake Larry up that I'd do whatever he wanted, hail Mary's, kneeling on bricks, sacrificing a lamb/goat/first born whatever. But please, please don't let him wake up from the sound or worse the smell! My God, Mr. Colon was pissed the fuck off. He was letting me know for sure he wasn't going to let me get away with it. The intense sudden urge to release my bowels sent me jolting to the toilet.

A barracks room in most cases is a lot like a hotel room. No real living space, just a place for a bed, and the bathroom right by it. Room for a desk, but let's get serious who really needs that in a hotel, and especially in a barracks room? That's like giving the Dahli Lama a gift card to Pier One. Now clinching my sphincter as tightly as possible to get there without shitting myself was like trying out for synchronized swimming with no previous experience and a fear of water. Running into the bathroom I turned the faucet on and flushed the industrial style toilet for a pre-courtesy flush. So as this ass lava was coming out it would already be headed to it's eternal resting place. It didn't go down without a fight. I'm not sure how long I was in there but it was long enough to consider putting a tampon in my bum so I could sleep peacefully without soiling the sheets. The smell of the Massacre of Bum's Landing was horrendous. I left the bathroom fan on and crept back into bed. Quickly glancing at the time I realized Larry had to get up for duty in 15 minutes. Panic, panic, no don't panic it'll make you shit again. But there's no shit left. I thought to myself. OK I'll pray some more and maybe this time repent and God might possibly make the stench vanish. And while praying just pretend to be sleeping. The alarm went off. He slowly started getting out of bed. Then walked towards the bathroom for his morning pee. This is it, this is the defining moment of our relationship. He's either going to a) not smell it and I'm good as gold, b) smell it, be utterly disgusted and dump me for being an ass pissing bitch or c) smell it, ignore it, and if he does then he must love me and I must marry him. He walked out of the bathroom, puts his hand on my shoulder and asks, “Baby are you alright?”

Minor? (First chapter of my book)

Minor?

The night I went to the Weezer concert was a disaster, but not a complete bust. I was bored and/or lonely afterwards and decided to go to this Latin club in Atlanta called Santo Domingo (wonder if it's still there? I'll have to Google it, because that place was the shit). Before going to the club I had to ditch the computer tech guy. I did the good ol' disappearing act on him, by getting in a mosh pit, making my way out of it to a beer vendor and shamelessly hid behind their trashcan. I knew I was in the clear when I saw him wondering around with a look of what I can only describe as the abandoned dog. I watched him exit the perimeter and felt like a total bitch for ditching him that way. I'm sure he dialed 911 and reported his curly headed fuck for a blind date missing. In my defense his picture on Myspace was pretty deceiving. I was taken with a web cam, at night, by only the glow of his monitor. He had a disheveled look about him which I love because it radiates the “I give a shit but don't want you to know that ” look. Which reminds me to go ahead and warn you in case you didn't already know this, but any guy that only has one picture, no matter how hot he may look in it is most likely ugly or old or married. Ok let me just go ahead and give you the rules of thumb I go by when it comes to Internet pictures. First of all, I go through all the pictures if less then ten, use what you can or more then ten just use ten random ones. If 70% or more you find him attractive in then you might have a winner, if 50% or less don't bother it'll just be a waste of time. Secondly if in every picture his shirt is off then the most you'll get out of it is sex, and that's after he's conned you paying for both of yálls dinner. Lastly he must show eyes and teeth in his pictures, if not, he's hiding something. If he is always in sunglasses doing extreme sports or extreme bathroom photos, he's either a.) hiding a lazy eye or b.) hiding the complete emptiness of his soul, which I can only assume he sold to the devil for those sunglasses because what normal jobless, student can afford Prada? If he doesn't show his teeth, they must be yellow, missing, or just jacked the fuck up, and you don't want to deal with any of those.

Back to the story sorry I like to rant. So yea felt like a big bitch for dumping him that way. But also feeling relieved I didn't have to spend one more second with him. I should have known by his job he'd be boring and play WOW all the time, my fault. I did my walk/drive of shame in my beat up 1988 Toyota Corolla a.k.a POS. POS (piece of shit) had absolutely no A/C unless you consider rolling down all four windows and driving 80mph on the highway A/C, if you do then yes POS had A/C. It also had a leaking windshield, which only mattered when it rained and I was sitting in some random apartment complex “borrowing” someone's wifi, so beach towels in POS was a must, even though the closest beach was 5 hours away, even the closest lake was 2 hours away. And of course like the wonderful mother I am there was always those big ass, overly obtrusive car seats in the back. This car was such a piece of shit that if I drove while it was raining the car wouldn't go faster then 35mph. And even if you're driving in the slow lane of I-75 you're going to get run over. So I took the chance of driving in the rain just to make sure I got some hot Latin ass that night.

So I'm cruising my top speed of 35mph, sweating my imaginary woman balls off, getting pounded in the face with rain as if I had a sunroof down. One hour and 15 miles later I reach my destination, Santo Domingo, my little slice of heaven. By this point in my life the doormen of Santo Domingo knew me, this was either because I was in there more then them or because I was always the only white girl or white person period that ever came in. Even the bartenders knew my preferred drink at the time.....Patron. Look if I'm going to get drunk I aim right for the jugular, balls to the walls, rock out with your cock out, or my imaginary cock and balls. I was so proud I could actually walk into a bar and say, “my usual please”.

With enough money to pay my entrance and one shot of Patron I did just that. Then set on my quest for free drinks from any man willing. Which in a Latin club could be quite a challenge since only about one in five of them speak English and Spanish. And my Spanish was as good as a 100 Mexicans in a Ford Ranger crossing the border without getting caught. Conversations normally went like this:

Me: Hola

Random Hispanic (RH): Hola, Como te llama?

Me: Sherra y tu?

RH: Jose Eduardo Gonzales Jesus Lopez Rojas Martinez

Me: Ok.......(make drink motion with hands and pray for the best)

A short, chubby like creature of mud mask complection finally observed my not so universal display of sign language and got me a drink. After a few minutes of trying to maintain a conversation I realize this fat fuck was married, I guess I would've realized sooner if my eyes weren't so glazed over by the thought of tequila. And it took that tequila shot to bolt me into reality. I had imagined her name was Lupe or Rosa, and they met at a local restaurant they worked at, falling in love over the deep fryer. But this didn't stop me from taking the second shot he offered because I was going to use the little tid bit of information to get rid of him...after I took another shot and before he asked me to dance. Smiling a brief moment to get pass the burning sensation of the tequila going down my throat I suddenly looked horrified. As I grabbed his hand in disgust I yelled. “Marrido!” I stormed off towards the dance floor before I could laugh. Ultimately to avoid contact with him I'd risk being the only white person not only in the club but the only one to be brave enough to grace the dance floor on reggaeton night.

In general I'm not scared of short men no matter how big they are. Because I have this false sense of muscular strength in my body. Which in reality is quite disappointing, and a tad shocking. In my mind it would be easy to beat up a man that's shorter then me even at that time of my life when I weighed a whopping 110 lbs. More afraid of a gay man that's an inch or two taller or shorter then me. Which I should have reason, we're more equal in most ways.

On my way into the middle of the dance floor everyone was staring at me, of course. I always go right into the center of the tight crowd not to be the center of attention but because I don't want as many people seeing me. So essentially I hide in the middle like there's a gunman on the edge of the dance floor willing to shoot the worst dancers ie. me. Think of Dancing With The Stars but the judges have AK-47s. Just FYI I know how to dance now and I do professionally once I have a series of Vegas Bombs in my system. (Vegas also the name of my car, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, except if there's a mess, that's a no go.) As I'm “dancing” this tall guy started dancing with me. At the time I don't know if I really thought he was cute or it was the tequila goggles, so we'll just say he was. We made out of course on the dance floor, not ashamed might I add. This tall, cute guy actually spoke a fair amount of English, so the conversation was much easier with him then most at this venue. Mynor was his name, and he was tall like I said, dark hair and eyes, wore glasses, and dressed impeccably (this at times has thrown me off because someone dressing like this normally means they're gay, but that's only in the states, from my years of experience I later realized most foreign men, especially European men all dress in the “gay”fashion) . I find glasses on men sexy, mysterious, and gives them the illusion of intelligence, this does not apply to sunglasses, especially at night and in a club. We danced and danced until I sweat out almost all of my tequila, and needed more. My strategy is to get wasted early in the night, but not throw up wasted and just maintain. Then slowly sober up before driving home. It's my way of being responsible, you know so I won't do any ugly men. He saw the desperation for a drink, it must've been the twinkle in my eye as I looked on towards the bar. Finally! He offered me a drink. Another way that I'm a responsible adult is that I always follow the guy buying me a drink for a few reasons

1. I don't want to be roofied, and have to explain to my mother from jail why I licked the cop arresting illegal immigrants at the bar I'm at while screaming, “Celia Cruz is the Queen of Salsa”
2. So they don't get me a well drink, because that's the quickest way to the bathroom from either puking or the ring of fire(term used for ass pee, wicked sting ring can also be used) and
3. To make sure they pay AND tip, tip because I want the bartenders to continue liking me and therefore never spitting in my drinks.
   It never dawned on me that only 21 & older had on wristbands. I guess I assumed (drunken assumption) that since I was 21 everyone else had to be too. Wrong.

Mynor and I started dating, and I ignored all the little red flags popping up. It was quite convenient for me that he lived an hour or so away, no one could be needy in this relationship. We decided to be exclusive, well I'd already had a boyfriend so it was as exclusive as it could be on my part. Weeks went by, and I was always disappointed with the sex because he was apparently very inexperienced. Which didn't totally bother me because my other boyfriend was. His inexperience was quite charming along with his super sweet disposition. So one boyfriend was entertaining me at some point of the day, I was starting to feel like I needed to make a decision between the two. This is the only time in my life I've ever had this dilemma. Two boyfriends is too much work. The day the choice was made, Mynor called me and asked to come over to talk. I knew this couldn't be good, but it couldn't be bad either. I had just met his family from Guatemala when they were in town visiting the week before. Did you know Guatemalans call themselves “Chapins”? Yea me neither.

I was living with my gay ex-husbands, single mother of one, aunt, Gerri and her one Noel. Noel was just a few years younger then me, so when I moved in we instantly became close. We shared almost everything, well more like her sharing everything because I was always broke. We'd cover for each other, go on trips to Florida, she'd watch my two lil ones during my late night escapades, and I'd do her chores. It was perfect. She introduced me to several of her friends including Albie, the former Abercrombie & Fitch model, boy was he hot! I'll have to get to him later.

Mynor arrived and we went into Noel's room to talk. There is no way to have a serious conversation in my room no matter where it's at. There's always clothes strewn everywhere and skeleton's of Starbucks left on the dresser. Plus in my room there's only three things I ever want to happen in there, sleep, have sex and read...in that order then repeat. I knew I wasn't getting laid this day and if I was it would have to be in the floor in the hallway or the bathroom sink. The thought of rug burn on my ass or knees is just as appealing as having to puke in a public bathroom at a country/western bar on a line dance night while hearing “Boot, Scoot and Boogy”in the background. And leg cramps from bathroom sex is a no go, I like my sex to be comfortable not convenient. Sitting on the end of Noel's bed I could tell he looked sad. He proceeded to tell me I needed someone older, that could take care of me. Totally puzzled because he in no way had ever provided for me. Ready for the shocker? Sitting down?

“I don't paint during the day like I told you. I'm actually 18 not 20 and I'm a senior in high school. I can't do this to you anymore.” I'd love to see my face at that moment. Just picture a midget with a camera that waits in your closet and pops out to capture moments just like these. Those pictures of expressions I'd hang on my wall as art.

Midget hiding in closet: $10/hr

Camera: $300

Look on your face when you find out your boyfriend still buys carton milks at SCHOOL: priceless.

I cried for a moment but not because I was sad he broke up with me but that I had a high school boyfriend and I wasn't in high school. And to top it off I got duped, by a kid. I did the only thing I could do, call Noel. She laughed considerably. Once her laughter was slightly subdued I asked her if she wanted me to hook her up with him, since they were in the same graduating class. Prom maybe?

 Sex Partner Number: 7

If I Had A Nickel For Every Time A Man Has Told Me I Was Trouble I'd Be A Millionaire

               So I work at a strip club. Every night I work I get told I'm trouble. This always bugs me to hear because I'm not sure exactly what they mean by that. I've also been told this outside of the club. What is it I do or say that makes men think this of me? I'm not overly flirtatious, slutty, or give false lead ons to men. OK I'm just not fake, the fakest thing about me is my tits and nails. Other then that I'm always myself through and through no matter what people might think of me. And what do they mean by "trouble"? Trouble as in they think I'm going to rob them, like a hood rat hanging outside a 711 in the ghetto in Downtown Los Angeles? seduce them to cheat on their spouse, and leave them high and dry with either no wife or herpes( I don't have any STD's I get checked regularly as should you, even if you're in a long term relationship because let's face it men are deceitful bastards and they cheat)? make them fall in love with me(not that I've ever accomplished that with a man before) and wipe out their bank accounts, IRAs, CD's, and take their house? steal their kidneys and leave them in a tub of ice? Or the worst case scenario, drug and/or lure them into a warehouse for their dismemberment? I mean really what harm can I cause that I wouldn't feel guilty over later? Yeah I work at a strip club, but that doesn't mean my morals are that off. I do still have some in tact. I don't date married men... anymore. I don't steal ever, because I fully believe in Karma. She's a bitch by the way. I wouldn't even know where to get drugs other then weed, and most times I'm at a loss on that one too. I wouldn't be caught dead in a ghetto anywhere unless I mistakenly took a wrong turn in a foreign country. If you saw me you'd know right away I'm not capable of crime involving my physique. I practically have noodles for arms, and could easily be toppled over by my fake tits. My ass keeps me grounded most days, unless I'm drunk and my equilibrium is pissed at me. And I'd avoid any job that involved blood or scalpels. Except for my internship dental assisting, and that's when I finally said no to those things. People by the way if you didn't already know have nasty teeth/mouths. I guess I was living in a fantasy land where I thought everyone had straight white teeth, uhhhmmmm NO I still have nightmares from the mouths I saw during that internship.

               As a result of being told this a record number of times I asked a friend who had also made the statement to me before, why? Their answer : You're very alluring but yet have that innocent girl look." I don't know if I like this or not. To me that sounds like the girl next door type. Which in general is good, but I'm almost 30 WITH four kids, so I'm NOT a girl. So to me that rings soccer mom or MILF. While I like the whole MILF thing it makes me feel old. Same goes with the soccer mom concept. The issue with me is I feel too old to be a girl next door type, but way to young to be a soccer mom or MILF. Yes for the record I am a MILF if I can be the judge of it. So where do I fit in? I'm not a soccer mom. I don't drive a mini van. I'm a decent person, but not a goody goody. In that same thought though I'm not a gold digger or bad really in any way, you know never been arrested. There's got to be more women like me that feel we need our own category that's not satisfied with these regular standard names or groups. Or you know what? I'm more then happy to be a group of one all by my lonesome. So please someone find my "group" or think of one I'd be good in. I just need a good name for it.

              While writing this I decided I'm going to start a savings account. Not for anything in particular. I'm just going to require that any man that calls me trouble give me a $1.00. I know the title says "nickel" but we aren't in the 50's, 60's or 70's anymore, there's a thing called inflation and I'm going to cash in on it. So let's just see how long it takes me to make a million. Also all the men who've already told me this your bill is in the mail. THANKS!