The Over-Educated Nympho

I’ve written this before, and here I am again, except with a lot more anger this time around. BECAUSE GUYS KEEP PISSING ME OFF.

You say you want a sex-crazed girlfriend, you say you want a freak in the sheets, you say you would do anything if you dated just one nympho, just once, dear lord, that’s all you ask for before you die.

Well as a nympho I’m here to tell you YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT. You’ll be able to keep up with her for the first month or two, and then after that you’ll be the one faking headaches and begging her to leave you alone and slapping her hand away.

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If I were a superhero, I would want to be named SuperPussy. I would save hopelessly lost orgasms, lonely masturbators, awkward first-timers, broken vibrators, and desperately horny but deserving individuals find satisfaction.

SuperPussy would start as a comic book, then turn into an animated sitcom on the adultswim channel, then eventually have an entire line of underwear, and t-shirts proudly proclaiming SUPERPUSSY SAVED MY ORGASM in assorted colors.

SuperPussy would be only the best superhero EVER. Just think about the potential for action figures.

Well happy freaking blogiversay to me. One year ago today I started up my blog at the long-winded advice and persistence of my friends, and I’m glad I did.

However, warning: all pleasantries in this post are strictly sarcastic/tongue-in-cheek. I’ve been really pissy and depressed and absent from the blogosphere lately, and for good reasons that I can only allude to.

I’ve been through a lot over the last year: panicking about getting a job after college (earning three degrees doesn’t guarantee you SHIT), getting my first job after moping around the apartment for a couple months, hating it and quitting and getting a much better job where I currently am now. Although all I think about lately is how I want to be a writer instead. But let’s save that pity-party for another post.

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