Thursday, August 25, 2011

Well If You Feel Your Job's Secure, Keep it up, Then

I said I'm getting a new boss, right? I'm getting a new boss. Anyway, the old one did my performance review today. I don't know what the point of that was since as of five pm she's not even my boss anymore. Unfortunately the performance review went fine, because
I had the best plan of all time for if it went poorly: I WAS GOING TO PISS MYSELF. I was going to piss right where I was sitting and not even say anything about it, and sit there in a piss pants chair full of piss for the duration of the meeting. She probably wouldn't even notice until I left, and and even if she did, it's not like it's against the law, incontinence. If pissing all over myself and pretending there's nothing weird about it wouldn't have made me your personal hero you might as well just go away and never come back. YOU'RE DEAD TO ME NOW! If I ever get really rich somehow (which I never will because I'm lazy and not even remotely interested in anything that could potentially lead to me becoming rich) I would start giving people money to quit their jobs in insane ways. Like, if your boss has a glass eye, I give you $40k to eat a bag of glass eyes, walk into your bosses office, tell her her glass eye makes you sick, vomit barf made of glass eyes and bile all over her desk, and leave. I'll give you $37k to put on a Kool-aid man costume and smash through the wall between your and your bosses office on your way to HR for your exit interview. 

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

We Are All Made of Crazy

Sometimes I wonder what my own capacity is for craziness. Like, am I going to one day go totally crazy? I am trying to write some fiction right now. A novel, actually. Don't laugh; all kinds of fucking idiots have written novels so why shouldn't I. Was that proper semi colon use? Who knows. That's what copyeditors are for. Anyway, if anything is going to drive me crazy one day it is probably going to be writing. Today I was writing on the train, while underground, and the scene I was writing took place in a thunderstorm. When I came up from the tunnel I was totally shocked that it wasn't pouring rain in real life, even though I already knew it wasn't, because it wasn't raining or even threatening to rain when I got on the train in the first place. Yeah, I thought I wrote myself into my own novel. Like the first three hours of the day every time I looked out of the window I was like OH IT STOPPED RAINING. So there it is, my crazy level. Crazy enough to confuse fantasy and reality. Isn't that romantic though, if I go crazy writing? Crazy people are so romantic in theory yet so annoying in reality.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

The Sky is Falling

So, earthquakes, huh. I live in the great plaines so I really have nothing to say about earthquakes, except that a friend of mine thought he caused one once. Was there a huge one in like China or something? It was that one. I know it's shitty to make fun of mental illness, but since everyone else does it, HOW FUCKING FUNNY IS IT WHEN YOUR FRIEND TELLS YOU HE CAUSED A DEVASTATING EARTHQUAKE! I don't know what it is about me that compels people to tell me shit like that. Like I don't see a dude for a whole year and suddenly he shows up on my porch telling me his horrible actions have provoked a natural disaster. I didn't want this dude in my apartment after I realized he had TOTALLY LOST HIS GOD DAMN MIND, so I went for a walk with him, during which he told me that all the hipsters we walked past at Lula's could read his thoughts. I guess I missed my true calling as a clinical psychologist, because the fact that people feel comfortable showing up at my house out of nowhere and telling me the craziest shit I've ever heard leads me to believe I would be the best clinical psychologist of all time. I don't know how I can even keep a straight face when people tell me this shit.  I'm just like "you're aware
this is irrational, no?" it's truly a skill to not blurt out "bitch, watchu talkin about" when someone goes this level of crazy on you. That's the personal statement that is going to get me a full scholarship to the psychiatry program of my choosing: "once someone told me he caused a mega earthquake and I acted like that was normal." Boom. 

Thursday, August 18, 2011

So like a million people read my blog yesterday (seventy one). I didn't even write anything yesterday! Oh man, what if it was fallout from the donut dick post. WHAT IF IT WAS DONUT DICK'S GIRLFRIEND AND ALL HER FRIENDS. Yikes. Don't you guys think she should leave him? I think she should leave him. I think she's like 25. Hey girl, if you're reading this I want to let you know that these are the years where you can do anything you want. Seriously. You can do anything you want! You should dump that fucking 30 year old loser who makes other girls watch Woody Allen movies about cheating while they eat donuts off his dick and go teach English in Tokyo or something. And fuck better looking people. Trust me; I am very old and wise.
Ok, moving on. I transferred departments at work and I don't have to foreclose on people's homes anymore, so that's good. It turns out foreclosing on old and infirm people's homes will wear on you, even if you are a horrible asshole with a cold black heart. I also get a new boss with two real eyes. Did I ever tell you my boss has a glass eye? I've known two people in my life with glass eyes. My boss, and a drug addicted prostitute. I didn't trust either of them. I say didn't because the prostitute is dead. My boss is still alive unfortunately, but one day she will be dead, so that's good. Anyway, it's going to be nice to have a boss I can look in the face without having a panic attack. Did you guys ever try to have a conversation with someone with a glass eye? It's impossible to make eye contact with both eyes at once so you end up looking all over the place and getting motion sickness.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Throw Some Ds on it

I was going to write Sabrina's eulogy in the voice of ghostface killah today, but I guess I'll do that tomorrow instead because Mandy wants me to write about donut dick, or more specifically this guy she was having an affair with who wanted her to eat a donut off his dick. She can't write about it herself because his girlfriend might read it, and Mandy doesn't want to look like an ass on the internet or something. I don't know, I thought that was what the Internet was for, am I right?

Anyway, you're lucky I'm writing about it and not Mandy because she probably would have been like "we were driving through the dust when he asked me, fingers intertwined. His hand was sweating and I watched the telephone poles fly past, and I felt myself sliding away. I am always sliding away." Good thing I'm here to keep it real with y'all and let you know that some fat dude tried to get Mandy to eat a donut off his dick because she never would have gotten to the fucking point. She didn't do it of course. Don't worry, I'm pretty sure it wasn't because she has any self respect or anything, I think she was on a diet. So if you want Mandy to eat food off your dick there is still a chance for you, but you should probably suggest, like, a pineapple ring or a jicama wreath or something. 

I wish she would have done it so I could know what kind of donut he wanted her to eat. BOSTON CREAM. God. I wonder if Mandy will ever eat a donut again. I also love how this guy tried to turn Mandy into a sexual George Costanza. I'm pretty sure that's all Mandy has ever wanted in life, to be George Costanza, so now I see why she liked this dude so much even though he sort of looked like Rick Moranis. I also love how she is sheltering the girlfriend instead of being like "hey girl, your boyfriend wants to put his thang in a donut, just so you know." 

Thursday, August 11, 2011


Let's talk about cheating all week. Mandy wrote three awesome posts on what it's like to be the other woman. I know, our little Mandy, who would have ever thought. Read them in order, Did you read them? Sounds terrible, right? Being the other woman? I don't need to be the only woman, but I want to at least be the main one. That's all that really matters to me. I don't want a dude taking some other chicks phone calls in my presence. My colossal ego wouldn't be able to handle it. I never got it like on The Sopranos how Carmela would get so pissed about Tony having girlfriends. I mean, she was the main one and he was never going to leave her. If the dude I married wanted to have a girlfriend I would take advantage of that free time to seduce a 23 year old or start training for an adventure race finally. Maybe I would learn how to fucking paint. When you're the other woman I imagine you'd have no free time because you would always be waiting to drop everything for the dude at any moment, like if his main lady decided to go to a movie he might call you and be like "I'm coming over now! I've only got two hours!" I would get tired of that really quickly. Sorry dude, you're not coming over now, I'm watching Damages. I'd be a terrible mistress. I'm also not delusional enough. I feel like the other woman always thinks her and her asshole cheater dude have something special. Haha, gurrrl, you so crazy. All you've got is an asshole dude with a crush on you. Crushes ain't shit. I've had a crush on a homeless guy before, I'm serious. Anyway, Its always the mistress that gets fucked in the end, right? She could even end up dead (Match Point). Affairs are like teenage suicide man, don't do it.

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Whatchu Talkin Bout, Mama

My baby is starting to turn into me. She walks around looking at everyone like fucking Arnold on diff'rent strokes when he asks Willis what he's talkin bout. SKEPTIC FACE. My face pretty much looks like that permanently because I'm like perpetually skeptical as to whether everyone in the world can possibly be as stupid as they seem. And now my baby looks at me like that, yes, my one year old baby can't believe what an idiot I am. God, I can't wait until she's old enough to actually call me an idiot instead of just looking at me like one. Then I can send her to her her room with a bell curve to teach her the harsh lesson that like 99% of the population is even dumber than her dumb mom.
You know when you're little and people talk about "the real world," such as, "in the real world you won't be able to sleep all day" and "in the real world you'll have to cut your own meat"? I hated cutting my own meat. I used to ask my mom to cut it for me and then when I was like four she started asking me what I was going to do when I grew up, and if I was going to ask my prom date to cut my steak for me. To which I would be like "Uh, yeah, I will totally ask my prom date to cut my food for me, good idea, mom." anyway the worst thing about "the real world" isn't having a job or bills or having to cut your own meat, it's having to deal with mostly everyone being stupider than you. I kind of hope my baby isn't as smart as me so she will only have to deal with being frustrated with the stupidity of 49% of people. I know she isn't though, I can tell she is heartbreakingly smart. I guess we are going to have to take a mommy and me yoga class to prepare her for a lifetime of frustration.

Tuesday, August 09, 2011

Always a Cheater, Never a Homewrecker

I've never had an affair before. I slept with an ex of mine a few times while he had a girlfriend, but it was a few times over the course of like a year. I don't even think I knew that he had a girlfriend. Actually I don't even think HE knew he had a girlfriend, I think it might have been like one of those situations where you totally have a girlfriend but you see how long you can get away with telling her that you don't like labels or whatever. Or wait. That that their friendship means so much to you that you wouldn't want to ruin it by dating (EVEN THOUGH YOU ALREADY RUINED IT BY FUCKING THEM). I know all about these lies that cheaters tell, because I'm like a fucking professor of that shit. The sort of shit where I have a boyfriend that I won't call a boyfriend and I cheat on him all the time and tell him it's not cheating, until he can't take it anymore. God, no wonder I couldn't stop sleeping with that ex, we had so much in common, such as both of us being terrible people. Actually i don't even know if that ex was even doing that, I'm just guessing he was because that is the shit that i do. What is that called? Self attributional bias? No, its like the opposite of that. The dude i married knows I'm a terrible person. The other day he told me he hopes the baby doesn't inherit the hump around gene. Anyway I've never had an affair before. And now I never will because I've already fucked everybody I want to fuck. An affair sounds like a lot of fucking work to me, and I am one of the laziest motherfuckers you will ever meet. Or read about. 

Thursday, August 04, 2011

Attica! Attica! It's a Dog Dick Afternoon!

Vocab of the day:

Dog Dick Showdown:

Noun. Dog Dick Showdown occurs when a dude accidentally picks up a pre op trans man (usually drunkenly), resulting in a dude that looks like a dude and a dude that looks like a chick standing awkwardly with their dicks in their hands, staring at each other in disbelief/horniness/revulsion/fascination. May result in beautiful anal sex, mutual masturbation, vomit, a beating, all of the above.

"dude, did you see that chick Sean brought home last night?"

"Uh, pretty sure that 'chick' was a dude."

"I know, total dog dick showdown."

Also, a situation in which a woman challenges two men to a circle jerk, promising to bang the one who can go the longest without coming Then she slams the winners dick in a door and yells "BANG!" and runs away while the dude's dick turns red and recedes into itself like a fucking dog dick.

"I heard you went home with Sean AND his brother last night, you whore!"

"Oh, don't worry, they wanted to Eiffel Tower me but I dog dick showdowned them instead."

"Hell yeah, high five girlfrand"

Also, a drink consisting of cucumber vodka and grapefruit juice with a salted rim. You will never find a dog dick showdown on a drink list, dog dick showdown is a secret menu item (e.g. the McGangBang).

"This shitty bartender has never even heard of a dog dick showdown. Man, let's bounce."

Wednesday, August 03, 2011


Holy shit I am so good at interventions. Not really. He wouldn't let me in like I thought, and it turns out I am NOT strong enough to kick a door down, plus he lives in a third floor walk up and it was so fucking hot at the top of the stairs I almost had a heat stroke from all the beating on the door. "Please let me in I am going to suffer heat stroke and fall down the stairs and die and my child will have to grow up with no mother! Please! Think of the children!" I can never stop the jokes, even in a crisis situation. Especially in a crisis situation. Remember in Who Framed Roger Rabbit how if you knocked out "shave and a haircut" Roger was like compelled by god himself to pop out and sing "TWOOOO BIIIIITS!" that didn't work in this scenario, I tried it. What. Nothing else was working. The I went and had a Gatorade with the Costa Rican landlord who doesn't speak English. Then the landlord banged on the door. Then he texted me (my friend, not the landlord) and said he was at his mom's. I was pretty sure that was a lieheI mean it makes no sense that he would text me from his mom's, the only reason for him to be texting me was to get me to leave and stop causing an insane scene at his apartment. "are you sure? I can hear you in there. I'm loitering outside your apartment like a true creep." So I called his mom and She came and got him and wr all got to live to see another day. INTERVENTION SUCCESS! What a pain in the ass though. Is it appropriate to bring that up later? "hey remember when your bizzaro behaviour caused me to hunt you down like a true stalker? You turned me into my own ex boyfriend from 2005! Kind of a dick move, dude."

Tuesday, August 02, 2011

I'm on my way to do a suicide intervention. Is that a thing people do? Go to their friend's houses and ask them if they're going to commit suicide? I don't know but I'm going to do it. I mean, if you feel like someone is going to kill homself and then they do you are going to be fucked up over it until the end of time. I don't want to be fucked up until the end of time. The best part is that this motherfucker isn't returning my calls and I fully expect him to pretend not to be there when I knock on the door so I'm committed to either convincing his landlord to open the door or if that fails kicking the door in. Am I strong enough to kick a door in? I guess we are going to find out.
Oh man, this is pretty fucked up. I don't even have a plan. I guess I ask him if he wants to come stay at my house and figure his shit out and if he says no I have to tell him I'm going to sit on his couch until he changes his mind. If he doesnt change his mind in anacceptable amount of time I'm going to threaten to call his mom. Does that make me a fink or a rat or whatever? Shit. Don't give me your moms number if you think you might ever want to kill yourself, because I'll call her.
I have to do this even though I don't want to.
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