All It Takes Is One Kiss To Bite You In The Ass
First thing this morning I received an email from Hot Coworker, which surprised the hell out of me because I can’t remember the last time we said anything other than “hey” to each other.
This Week on “Great Mate Debate”
I posted my response, Blogging & Dating, to our fifth question on Chemistry.com’s Great Mate Debate: So many people are using technology to capture their lives – from camera phones to YouTube, MySpace, and Facebook – that the idea of living a “private life” is changing. What impact do you think this will have on relationships in the future?
This particular topic hit close to home for me. I mean, fuck, sometimes I can’t face my own friends after especially personal (not necessarily sexual) posts, let alone wonder how a significant other would react to reading about how a strip club DJ I met a porn convention gave me eleven orgasms in one night. Oh hell, and I had to go and write about my fucking feelings too. Fuck it. I have no feelings. Go back to reading about the sex.
Hope Occasionally Breaks Through The Stupidity
After a stressful and crappy morning at the office, I went out for lunch at the mall to clear my head. I had actually hissed at a coworker earlier that morning. Not a “haha that Vix is so funny!” inner monologue hiss, I mean hisssssss hiss.
I sipped my drink and stared off toward the crowd of people walking past. Whenever I go out somewhere I make sure to position myself for the best people-watching. She’s got a nice skirt.. he’s eating a giant M&M cookie! where can I acquire a giant cookie such as this?!.. cute kid.. fugly bastard, is it too hard to shower every day?.. ooh pretty shoes!.. nice guy with cute glasses..
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Stupid Stupid Stupid Boys
The Halloween party I went to last night was fun, but sadly it left me unsatisfied without a dick to lick, and on top of that THERE WAS NO CANDY.
Although I got hit on several times at the party (I can’t decide if it was the superhero cape or the itty-bitty-mini-skirt), all were fruitless. Not for lack of trying, because I hit on a couple guys and that got me nowhere.
The three guys who hit on me were the classic guys every girl runs into at a party: the douchebag, the clueless guy, and of course the guy who has temporarily forgotten that he has a girlfriend.
All The Candy You Can Eat
I’m attending a Halloween party this weekend. It is at Cool Intern’s house, who has been on my shitlist since she invited me to a party and neglected to tell me that it fell through.
When she first invited me to this party I was hesitant, but it’s definitely on because last night she bought a ton of alcohol and they’ve ordered a keg. A keg. Oh, these college kids and their kegs. They’re like teddy bears for twenty-two year-olds. A teddy-beer!
Umm… crap.
I greatly appreciate everyone’s help in yesterday’s reader poll about dating someone older than you, but today I was informed that the editors over at Great Mate Debate cut the topic. D’OH. Oh well, it happens. That will teach me to try to write something before the deadline. Never again!! (GMD: kidding! I’m totally kidding! Please don’t fire me for being a smartass.)
Not to worry, there are plenty of future topics that will benefit from reader polls and feedback. And I’m not just talking about Great Mate Debate. Ahem.
Don’t Feed The Beast If You Can’t Keep Her Cumming
I’m sure this will come as a surprise to, well, all of you, but I’m going to say it anyway. I don’t masturbate very often. Say the fuck WHAT, you lying horny bitch?!
That’s right, I intentionally avoid touching myself because once I start I can’t stop. Seriously, I never masturbate for less than forty-five minutes. My hand gets tired around an hour and fifteen minutes, my back starts to hurt around an hour and a half, and at two hours I’ve lost all wrist-control. At two and a half hours I pass out from dehydration.
I’ve found it’s best not to awaken The Pussy. I have to for the sake of my motor skills.
Reader Poll
In preparation of an upcoming Great Mate Debate topic, I have set up an informal poll asking have you ever dated someone more than ten years older than you? If you have any comments, stories, etc. please post them below.
New Comment Moderation
I HATE SPAM. HATE HATE HATE SPAM. It clogs my email and comment folders and pisses me off. Until I set up a fresh round of moderation filters that will keep me from getting spam comments every ten minutes, I have turned on the “reader must have previously approved comment” feature. It is nothing personal to any reader out there (except the icky ones, you can go fuck yourself and as you can see the spam comments have provided many links to help you do that), it is strictly hatred of spam. Or to be more specific, a hatred of ephedrine, ephedra, hoodia, asian teenage porn, paris hilton free downloads, casinos, prozac for menopause, vitamins, cheap vicodin, mature galleries, and ringtones. There is a special place in cyber-hell for you, which is right between Carrot Top and Lindsay Lohan going through cocaine withdrawal.
Don’t Make Me Talk About My Feelings Because I Don’t Have Any
aka the alter ego of This Week on “Great Mate Debate.”
I posted my response, If I Wanted You To Know What I Was Thinking, I Would Tell You, to our fourth question on Chemistry.com’s Great Mate Debate: Why do men hate it when women ask, “What are you thinking…?”
The original post I wrote was super long, so I broke it up into two posts. The more thoughtful (less snarky, whatever) portion is on the Great Mate Debate site, and the little nuggets of pure bitch-gold are shown below. The posts are best read together, but I didn’t want to bogart the GMD screen real estate. Or get fired.
The Gods of Irony Are Complete Assholes
My parents came into town over the weekend. At first I thought they’d be actually visiting my apartment (which would require massive clean-up and censoring), then they told me they wouldn’t be coming by (what relief! now I don’t have to hide naughty-naughties or clean!). Then Friday afternoon I received an email from my father saying that they would be coming by after all.
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucckkkk.
In My Next Dream I’m Punching Him
Last night I had a dream about Handsome Nerd. Although I can’t recall the details, I know it ended with us kissing and his hands working their way down.
I may have woken up a little bit excited. With a finger at a very ungodly place for a Sunday morning.
What the fucking fuckety fuck FUCK?
