Advice Column: Nothing Wrong With A Little "Window Shopping"

Dear J-Wunder,

Plain and simple...are men and women who are in relationships allowed to be attracted to the opposite sex? I don't think so but my boyfriend does. Your thoughts are appreciated.

Love,
It's About Trust




Dear It's About Trust,

You sign off as "It's About Trust" but you think it's not right to be attracted to another guy while being in a relationship? You realize you sound like a fucking idiot, right? Look, what I'm about to say, does not apply to all women, so please don't take this personal. But, women are fucking crazy bitches. More like...head cases. Nah, maybe jealous. Ok, definitely all three. Not all women though, just the majority. And you little lady, are in that "majority."

What women (men are guilty of this too) fail to realize, is that just because you're in a relationship, attraction towards the opposite sex is still there. What? Did you think that shit just fucking vaporizes into thin air once you commit your pussy to one guy? You become blind because you're in a relationship? Get the fuck out of here with that shit.

AIN'T NOBODY GOT TIME FOR THAT!!!!

Let me tell you something, you 5-time gold medalist of the Crazy Bitch Olympics...I remember this girl I knew back in the day. Amazing fucking girl. Lips of an angel. Tits of a Playboy bunny. A hatchet wound so fucking pure it would have made Jesus sin. This chick was pretty amazing until I finally dated her ass. Take Fatal Attraction with that bitch from the movie "The Crush," and you have created the craziest bitch I had the privilege to date. FUCK.MY.LIFE.

Once I heard those words, "Yes, I'll go steady with you," my life was over (Don't laugh, bitches. I went Saved By The Bell style with this shit). If I looked at any girl, or they looked at me, some motherfucker was going to get their face smashed in. Or die. I wouldn't lie about this shit, people.

Never in my life did I feel like such a little bitch. It was like I was being told that no other woman existed on this planet, besides her. I mean, I looked down at the ground so much, that after we broke up, my ass was in one of those fucking neck braces for weeks, just so I could look up like a normal person. Pretty fucked up, right? Ok, that was a lie, but I swear I had to have my homeboys hold my head up during lunch time because it looked like I was all mopey and had sand in my vagina.

It was this kind of fucked up relationship that made me realize, "If I'm with you, don't even fucking tell me that looking at another woman is not okay." Sorry to rain on your parade bitch but, we're surrounded by the opposite sex on a daily basis, and if I wanted to fuck that chick that's been showing me her ass crack for the last 5 minutes, I would. But I'm in a relationship. Nothing is wrong with window shopping. Because that's all it is...window shopping. With an occasional trip to the pisser to tug on my dick for 5 minutes thinking about thong girls calf muscles. But no purchases are being made. Not even a lay-away plan. So back-the-fuck-off. Ya dig?!

Not to mention, your man is cool with this shit because he knows he's coming home to you at night. Well, unless he's really fucking some chick then coming home to you. That wouldn't be cool. But it would actually be funny because it sounds like your ass has him on an extremely short leash. Honestly though, being attracted to someone is nothing fucking new. I say, if you aren't happy about it, good luck staying fucking miserable the rest of your life. It's women like you that are so fucking irrational about shit like this that your ass needs to be shook once in awhile. Wake the fuck up and smell the fresh cum on your face, lady. Don't act like that guy in your office isn't hot and you wouldn't love to see how big his cup size is. Research shows people who don't trust anyone, are the ones that can't be trusted. If you think like a dog, you'll act like one. Real talk.

So please, lighten the fuck up and go ride your man's coat hanger cock more often. Maybe he wouldn't be staring at other chicks tits if he saw yours more often. I mean, it seems like he is dating fucking Hitler. Keep this shit up and your ass will be kicked to the curb. If that happens, don't be surprised if you see Facebook statuses that talk about, "The bitch that couldn't get a fucking grip because the cute concierge smiled too goddamn long." Do you want that? Of course not. The only thing you should be gripping is that pillow when you need to scream in it when your man is making you have a 60 second orgasm.

Don't be like that chick I dated back in the day. Good in bed and crazy as fuck otherwise. Let your man look at whoever he wants to. Even fat bitches. It's ok. He knows you've been looking too. And that's okay too.

I Don't Do Crazy,
J-Wunder

This Little Girl Is Not Fucking Around

Don't Fuck With My Cinnabons

Violence is never okay, but a stale pastry can certainly drive some people into a violent rage — especially when you were promised a fresh and delicious airport-quality Cinnabon but all you got was a subpar Burger King castoff.

Andrea Ann McCullough of Charleston, South Carolina was arrested on Tuesday at Burger King when she found that her Cinnabon (which the chain is advertising quite heavily in-store) was "not fresh." When McCoullough was told that this was the only roll the establishment had left — Oh, hell no! — she weighed her options carefully and chose to yell out a measured "I'm going to shoot everyone" before storming off into the night. That could have been all, but McCullough was so incensed (nay, enraged!) by the fast food establishment's lies that she returned to the restaurant and, with her hand in her purse, stated "I'm going to shoot down this place."

The police were quickly called and McCullough was charged with second degree assault. It's not been reported whether she actually had a gun or was just bluffing so the employees would go in the back and make her some more goddamn cinnamon buns. In either case, threatening to shoot anyone over a honey bun with frosting is never an okay option and at the very best, McCullough will never eat a Cinnabon from this particular franchise ever again. At worst, she will spend three years in a state prison. She's out on $10,000 bail.

Correction: This incident occurred in mid-May. Police arrested McCullough this week after tracking down her license plate number. (Hopefully no other Burger Kings were terrorized during this time.)

via - Jezebel

Advice Column: Cock Of Ages

Mister J Fuckin' Wunderful,

I've been reading your blog for a long fuckin' time now and I love it. The CREW are a badass bunch of folks and taking RoMo or Flo-Rich for a ride on the PTE would probably have a brother more geeked than when Charlie found that golden ticket. As much as that might contrast with what I need advice on (a guy can dream, right?), the statement still stands. Anyways, enough with the e-rimjob I'm giving to y'alls egos……

I'm a traveling musician, so I'm out of town most weekends. Some-fucking-how, I managed to find a girl to put up with that bullshit (probably helps that I bought her one of those shower heads that's basically a g-spot hunter). She's been cool for a while, but then that fuckin' nine-headed serpentine cunt of an emotion came around…..jealousy. No matter what I tell her about how the whole "touring" thing actually is, she seems to think I'm living like I'm Tommy Fucking Lee on the Motley Crue world tour or some shit……The reality is, I play in some bars that range from "okay" to "what fucking third world country did I just arrive in?", dodge junkies while I'm loading my shit into the van, take a shit, and then fall asleep on some sheets that are definitely soaked in seven kinds of shame juice.

She's worried about the girls when I'm out and about. I never lie to her and say that I never get offered, it happens….and I'm not about to lie about something. There have been some seriously tempting ones, too, but I'm not gonna do her like that. No matter what I say, she's always suspicious, she's even been asking the other band members about what I do out of town…..same story, every time. I can understand her being worried, but where the fuck is the line where I just have to say "Look, stop that shit. You're acting like a psycho"?

Sincerely,
Rockin' Out Without Cock Out



Dear Rockin' Out Without Cock Out,

Man oh man, oh motherfucking man!!!

Just when you think you got yourself a "good one," bitch decides to get all 50 Shades Of "You're Cheating On Me Huh, Asshole?!"

FACT: ASSUMPTION IS THE MOTHER OF ALL FUCK-UPS.

You're a musician. You know what that translates to regardless if you are amazing or completely fucking shitty?

P-U-S-S-Y

M-A-G-N-E-T

D-E L-A F-U-C-K-O

As faithful as you are. As honest as you are. As committed as you are. There is one motherfucking problem - YOU ARE A MUSICIAN. You have a career where it is assumed that pussy is coming at you so fucking fast that you walk around with a concussion almost daily. That's how much pussy your girl thinks is coming after you at Mach 3 speed, son!

Now, the situation is fucked up for a few reasons:

1) You found someone who you truly THOUGHT is down for you and supportive of your career.

2) Once the comfort zone hit, motherfuckers decided to change things up and show those real ass colors.

3) No matter what you say, it will always be assumed that you are either, fucking, sucking, fingering or tea bagging some broad when you're away. Doesn't matter if you're at some dive bar in BFE with 4 people...2 with no teeth...2 blind motherfuckers or at some swanky ass venue where the place is packed beyond belief...you are a marked man because of what you do.

Simple solution to your problem amigo.

DUMP THIS BROAD.

Now, before people get all sensitive and tell me to fuck off, hear me out.

This chick knew exactly what the fuck she was signing up for. It's not like you all of the sudden met, you tell her you're an accountant then one day turned into a fucking musician. No sir, motherfucking Bob. She probably met you at one of your performances and her being into dudes that know how to play a goddamn instrument that can sing some wholesome ass bravado, made her panties wet. You dug her, she dug you and that's all she wrote. Until shit got real...

See, in her head, she's into dudes like you....as are all the women she sees at these performances. What I'm trying to tell you is that prior to meeting you, she had thoughts...some good, some bad and some really fucking dirty as to what she would do to a musician if she ever had a chance to lay her hands and pussy on one. Not sure what went down when you two met, but if I were a betting man, I would imagine it was you playing her a song with your guitar then your cock in her mouth. See where this is going, playboy?

She thinks now that she has you all to herself, these other bitches who go out to see you have an agenda. One that involves you, a late night and some fuckery that might make some farm animals throw the fuck up. That's not your style and for that, much respect.

How-the-fuck-ever, she doesn't think that way and stays true to what she knows. Well, what she thinks she knows because she did something to get the man she wanted. Realize when we meet someone, 50% of people don't act like who they really are...anywhere from 6 months to a goddamn year! Motherfuckers are so high on Cloud 9 that we're happier and act like we don't have any fucking problems. Then once the comfort sets in, true colors come out and either that person is the same OR that son of a bitch watches you sleep and envisions skinning your face and wearing that shit forever. You may laugh but if you have never woken up to some crazy motherfucker watching you, I'll tell you right fucking now...that shit ain't cool. I almost headbutted a bitch then put her in a figure 4 leg lock one time because she looked at me as if I was about to take my last breath. Fine as hell....crazy as Linda Blair in the Exorcist. Straight up.

Your girl may think she's onto you. For that, you either need to tell her to stand the fuck down and go watch some old school Beverly Hills 90210 OR tell her to kick rocks and exit stage "get the fuck out of my life". If you wanted to fuck mad bitches, you wouldn't be with just one broad, right? Everyone stereotypes certain lifestyles. Sometimes it's fucking cool. Sometimes it can be your worst fucking enemy.

As modest as you are, I know you can pull any bitch you want. I don't need to know what you look like because you're a musician. Bitches from all walks of life LOVE musicians. If that motherfucker Flea from Red Hot Chili Peppers can pull bitches, then I have faith you can find another broad. One who you should probably not be in a relationship with. Just sayin'.

If you want to find a relationship, go to the library. That's where all the freaky, intellectual chicks hang out. I'm probably full of shit because I've only been inside a library like 5 times. Fuck it, do whatever, just make sure you dump your current gal. Unless you want to die in your sleep. Then have a nice, short life, motherfucker.


Party On,

J-Wunder

Why You Should Not Be A Bridesmaid

via - Gawker


The following emails were forwarded to us by a bridesmaid still dazed from her six-month tour in the war zone of her gal pal's elegant destination wedding. They are a master class in the joking-but-not-joking-seriously-DON'T-cut-your-hair-without-my-permission style of friend management, where every "jest" (no bridesmaids were actually force-fed protein shakes to gain weight) is counteracted by a very real "offense" (one bridesmaid was asked to take diet pills).



Welcome to my bridal party. I thought today would be a great day to start this chain, as it is officially six months until my wedding day.

I just wanted to go over some ground rules.

1. Weigh-ins will begin in 3 weeks. I for one would really like some time after Thanksgiving to make my body forget about what it consumed, so I thought I would give you guys some cushion room

2. No-one can be skinner than the bride. That means Kelly and Lizzie will be on a protein weight gainer diet exclusively until May. I will have the nutritionist call you to discuss diet plans.

3. Bed times leading up to the wedding will be strictly enforced. I absolutely cannot have you all have saggy, baggy eyes. I am sure you all understand.

4. Swimwear attire: I would like everyone to wear matching bikinis that have rhinestones on the tushie spelling out "maids," which brings me to my next point.

5. All bikinis leading up to the wedding must be strapless bandeaus. I cannot have terrible tan lines in strapless dresses.

6. Sunscreen: We need to make sure you ladies look lovely and radiant and not red and reptile like. Pack accordingly.

7. Speeches: We all know what happened at Taylor's wedding. So if you plan to make a toast, please submit it for approval and revision, no later than 4 weeks prior to the wedding.

8. Hair cuts: If you plan on chopping off your locks, please submit your proposed new look prior to any actions (this applies to coloring as well).

9. Attendance: is strongly requested at all events but I will make some exceptions on a case by case basis.

10. Ink: Consider this a moratorium on future tattoos until June 5th. Those of you with visible artwork will be privately contacted with (temporary) removal instructions.

Thank you for your time and consideration. Should everyone abide by these minor requests, I am sure we will all have a memorable weekend.

Just kidding bitches, well, sorta. love you all,

[The Bride]
Girls,


It has been brought to my attention (picture proof) that one of my Maids is in violation of Rule 8 of the Bridal Party Contract. Rule 8 clearly stipulates that "If you plan on chopping off your locks, please submit your proposed new look prior to any actions (this applies to coloring as well)."

While I am sure this was a minor oversight by my bad little bee, I would like to remind everyone of the ramifications of violating any of the aforementioned rules. Failure to adhere to my commandments, can result in Bridalparty banishment!

I would appreciate a call from the hair-color-changing culprit immediately, with a proposed remedy by the end of the day.

Respectfully yours.

The Queen Bee


Hello my faithful bees,

Chloe has colored her hair. She has repented her sins to the QB and she has been forgiven for her minor lapse in forgetting the protocol.

Kudos to Chelsea for asking permission to cut her hair, unfortunately, her request is DENIED.

Onto to my next point. We will begin weekly weigh-ins on January 17th. I will be sending over the form for everyone to fill out and submit with a picture of the scale shortly.

Lastly, I am looking into bridesmaid rhinestone bikinis and I am open to color suggestions from everyone but Miss Holly because I have already chosen a customizable bikini for her, see below. If anyone could help me find bandeau rhinestone bikinis, I would greatly appreciate it. I would like it so say MAIDS in sparkle, rhinestones, or pearls. Not too much to ask, I know.

Holly’s rhinestone bikini:

http://www.advantagebridal.com/silver-lame-bikini-gold-lame-bikini.html

xoxo,

The Queen Bee

Advice Column: CRAZY Doesn't Even Begin To Describe You

JW,

I need help/advice/counseling, you name it.  You know how the saying goes, "All men cheat"????
Well that has been shoved so far down my throat that I really think all men fucken cheat.  Even if there is no signs, I still think it and it's ruining my marriage. I will admit, I do have daddy issues and a whole bunch of others as well.  I'm not bipolar or have never been diagnosed with any disorder (yet).  I mean, I'd like to think I'm fairly normal besides my trust issues.  I see cheating and womanizing perverts everywhere these days...on TV, websites, friends husbands, blah blah. So because I see this, I refuse to think I'm lucky enough to have a good husband.

I have complete access to his cell phone bill that I check ALL the time. I know every text and phone call he makes and out of the 8 years that I've been with him, I have never once found anything I shouldn't have. We share bank accounts so there ain't shit going on there.  I'm the bill payer and I handle all funds going in and out and again, nothing shady EVER. My husband doesn't come home late, he rarely ever goes out, has like 2 guy friends and they are married and pretty much grown up like him and the most they do is go on a fishing trip.  Which I'll get anxiety over and think he's really not "fishing".  I make up these unrealistic scenarios in my head of things he is supposedly doing. And when I do I accuse him of it and I call him a pervert and a nasty molester and this and that. I feel like shit after cause what proof do I have other than my uncontrollable thoughts? He takes care of our kids so great and no complaints there either. He's a huge family man. I know he watches porn, I've seen him do it, and surprisingly, I don't mind at all. As long as he doesn't hide it I couldn't care less.  I watch it as well and I think its completely healthy to masturbate and get off on people that are aboard the pound town express. I'm so on his shit that I think, even if the poor guy wanted to cheat he couldn't because I'd know right away since I suffocate his every move.  I don't mean to be such a cunt...honestly, I don't. I'm just so scared of being hurt and being THAT wife that gets betrayed and cheated on. I've seen friends and family go through it and it's horrible and it tears families apart and ruins lives.  I don't want that for myself or for my kids. And before anyone starts accusing me of cheating, I can promise you that I'm not like this because of a guilty conscience. I can say proudly that I have never ever ever cheated on my husband. I'm not perfect and I have flirted here and there at bars or whatever but I've never taken anything further than that.  I have no intention of hurting my family that way. Our sex life is great as well.  He's extremely loving to me and is always touching me and this and that blah blah. I love the attention he gives me yet despite all this...I still don't trust him because he's the owner of a dick. It's like I can't let myself be comfortable and enjoy my life the way it is.  I don't know why I'm so fucked up in the head when it comes to that. I need some advice from someone like you because well you knowwww...you say shit how it really is. Real talk and that's what I need.  Is my husband a cheater and is the ultimate best at it cause I can't find a single clue that he is or am I just a crazy stupid bitch that needs to realize and recognize what she's got before it's too late and he leaves my controlling psycho ass for someone normal and that can appreciate him for who he is???

Love,

Psycho Bitch



Dear Psycho Bitch,

HOLY

MOTHER

OF

GOD.

I can't get a motherfucker to buy me a hot dog and you, crazy bitch, are married. What in the ACTUAL fuck is going on in this world?!

There are no words to describe your email. You have not only taken the grand fucking prize to Crazy Town but, you have officially made every crazy bitch on the goddamn galaxy look like a motherfucking saint.

Just when I thought I have met the biggest cunt on the block, I get one-upped. Congrats on showing the world that there is an actual human fucking being out there who has outmatched crazy and psycho. You make those two names look like child's play. Matter of fact, you make the term "cunt" look like an okay word to actually call somebody.

I have never in my life heard, experienced, witnessed, seen or read anything quite like this. You are probably the most unbalanced and unstable bitch myself, and everyone reading this, will probably ever come across in their goddamn lifetime.

Did you really write that? Like, for reals? Am I being fucking Punk'd? Because if this is really the real deal then get ready because I'm about to break some shit down for you.

On a scale of 1 to O.J. Simpson, you're Jeffrey Dahmer. Yeah, you're not right in any sense of the fucking word.

FACT: A majority of men AND women cheat.

FACT: Men AND women cheat for a number of reasons. Two that are common are: 1) They aren't happy in their current relationship and 2) They have been cheated on in the past or in their current relationship.

FACT: If you give someone a reason to cheat on you, they more than likely will.

FACT: Innocent until proven guilty.

I'll be honest...I hope your husband cheats on you. Better yet, I hope he leaves your crazy ass. Not because he's an asshole, but because you're fucked in the head, delusional and no man, let alone person, deserves to be with a bitch like you. REAL FUCKING TALK.

You are the epitome of everything that is wrong with insecure motherfuckers. Do you realize what the fuck you wrote? I have no goddamn idea after 8 years and having children how this husband of yours is married to you. Actually, I do. YOU.ARE.FUCKING.CRAZY. His ass is probably scared shitless to even attempt to leave you.

You have issues. Like, a lot of goddamn issues. This isn't even about your husband cheating. Although I wish it was because if that were me, I'd cheat, make a movie of it, have you watch it then utter the words, "I WANT OUT. YOU ARE FUCKING CRAZY, YOU CRAZY FUCKING CUNT." How on earth are you convinced that your husband, who by the way hasn't done shit, is going to cheat? Hey, I get it when people have been hurt in the past that shit like this comes up. But you took this shit to the motherfucking extreme. To the point this guy can't even sleep without probably asking your sorry ass for permission.

The actual idea of you thinking any of this when you pretty much have a handle on his every move is a bigger mind fuck than I think even Einstein could imagine. That dude is probably rolling around in his grave trying to get out so he can punch you in the goddamn throat and shit on your chest. Why the hell did you even marry this guy? I don't think anyone could help your ass to be honest. It's that bad. The worst part...if this dude were to leave you, I can honestly and genuinely say that I would not be surprised if you went Fatal Attraction with a dash of The Crush and a touch of Basic Instinct on his ass. That's how scared I am for this motherfucker. You are one thought away of seriously killing a brother. I actually mean that. There is nothing right about you and I'm surprised you aren't taking something other than Advil. How are you on your period is what I want to know? For fucks sake...you are probably Satan himself, huh?

You're not normal. Fuck no. Any individual who thinks like you do, is nothing close to normal. Y'all are special and need to move on your own goddamn island where you can think of made up shit then eat one another because of something that happened that never really did happen. You guys and your imaginary bullshit.

AIN'T NOBODY GOT TIME FOR THAT!!!

The issue isn't him. The issue is YOU. 100% of it. You are seriously fucked up in the cabeza. I know I said that 50 other times in this column but you are seriously fucked up in the goddamn head and I actually feel bad for you. Ehhhhhh, no I don't. I feel bad for your husband and the crazy bitch he has to deal with on the daily. EVERYBODY reading this knows, you're fucking this up for yourself. Whether he ends up cheating because that's what you constantly obsess about or he ends up peacing the fuck out because you suffer from Twatinitis, you are gonna be your own worst enemy in all of this.

I'm not gonna even answer your question if he's a cheater and is a really good one. Why? Because that is some fucked up idea you made up. If I'm wrong, then I need to hi-five this motherfucker.

WAKE THE FUCK UP!

I could give two shits about how proud you are that you never cheated on your husband. I would hope not considering you took a goddamn vow to marry the fucking guy. Are you seriously that fucking stupid? Not trying to sound like a complete asshole but for fucks fucking sake, you have some shit that is beyond words and made me actually go and take two shots of tequila this morning. I think everyone around the world who is reading this is thinking, "Damn, I'm not so fucked up now. If someone thinks I'm crazy, I'm just gonna have them read this bitches question." That's straight up factual truth, sweetheart.

What you exemplify is what people should not want in A-N-Y-T-H-I-N-G. Not in a relationship and more importantly, a fucking marriage. This poor sack of shit is being accused of something he is completely clueless about. Good job, bitch. Way to stay happy!

I could go on and on for days about this and that but there comes a point in time that my fingers are going to get tired typing and these readers are gonna want to go the fuck to sleep, so I'm going to leave it at this:

Go find a church. Tell the priest that you need Jesus...and his disciples. Because there is no amount of medication that is going to help your crazy fucking ass from thinking what you think. I don't know your husband but if I did, I would tell that motherfucker to run. Kick you in the shins first, then run.

Stop being THAT bitch who ruined her life because she can't get her shit together. You realize, the shit you're pulling is more than likely going to end with you alone?

You're beyond controlling and you're beyond ultimate cunt status. Chill the fuck out and be happy. Because let's be honest...you're not happy. You think you are but you're not. Just like how your husband is a cheater, right? Don't punish him because you've got issues, bitch. If you're that fucked up and insecure, leave. Don't make other motherfuckers suffer because you went 50 shades of crazy.

I need another drink.

J-Wunder

This Is Why It Pays To Listen In A Relationship

How Women Over-Analyze

Trust Your Gut Or You Will Pay The Price

At the time, I was a butcher. She was a deli barista (you're welcome). We never said a word to each other the whole time we both worked at the supermarket. The only thing I did was smile and day dream of my face being planted right between her legs while she watched Ya-Ya Sisterhood, ate Bon Bons and moaned like a mermaid if she were to fuck a tiger shark. It was nothing more than a vision of what I wanted but had doubt for reasons unknown.

Then it happened...

Deli Barista: "Hey J, soooooo...wanna go out tonight for a drink?"

Me: *stares deep into her tits*

Deli Barista: "You know I can see you staring at my tits, right?"

Me: "I wasn't staring...I was thinking. Ok, I was staring. Love the black bra on you, by the way. Yeah, let's go grab a drink."

Fast forward to later that night...

We're at the bar having a good time. As bad as I wanted to get this chick "fuck me" drunk, I didn't. Why? Because something wasn't feeling right. Something told me to have a good time and just "see what happens". About an hour later, she starts up the shots. Body shots. How could I say no to this, right? There was her body, there was my tequila...being sucked off her body. Three shots in, she says, "Let's go back to your place..."

IT WAS ON!!!!

Thinking that this was going to be like any other sexcapade, it wasn't. Shit, not even close. What started off as hot and heavy kissing like the beginning of a soft core porn on Cinemax ended up being a really long and drawn out make-out and dry boning session like two high school kids at someones grandparents house. True story.

Was this chick a virgin? Does she not fuck on the first date? Is this even a fucking date? Don't dates include dinner and conversations about blow jobs? Fuck...does this bitch like me? We haven't said a word in 6 months to one another so how could she like me...I mean, I do have a nice smile so I can see why bitches might like a brother. Is she gonna wanna play Dr. Dry Bone all goddamn night? What the fuck is up?!

Never been more confused in my life people. EVER.

I know women. I know what they like, what they don't. What turns them off. What turns them on. When it's sexy time. When it's period time. When they are crazy. When I should run. But this chick...I COULD NOT FIGURE HER OUT FOR THE LIFE OF ME!!!

Again, it was that feeling I had.

As embarrassed as I am to admit, we dry boned and made out for two hours. I finally went to the bathroom and when I went to take a piss, I noticed that my dick looked like a bratwurst ran over three times, kicked around like a soccer ball during youth league and flourescent red like a fresh STD compliments of a whore house located in the Tenderloin in San Francisco. I was over it. I was bored. I wanted her out. I head back to my bedroom and what do you fucking know...the bitch is asleep. Well played, twat. Well played. I get in bed and crash out for the night.

The next day...

Throughout the night I was having dreams that someone was doing weird shit to me that I couldn't make out but knew was fucked up. It almost felt like it was really fucking happening. Around 6:30am I woke up and my dreams, became REALITY.

When I opened my eyes, there was that bitch staring at me. Not with this look of, "Good morning honey. You're so amazing." Fuck no. I'm talking a look that said, "I've been watching you sleep ALLLLL night as I was plotting our next date and thinking of ways to kill you, without you even feeling it. Who wants breakfast?"

I didn't know what to say so I looked around. My laundry basket was open. She had a pair of my dirty ass boxers in her hand.

Deli Barista: "So who is she?"

Me: "Who's who?"

Deli Barista: "Don't act dumb. I knew you were a player. Who is the bitch you slept with this week?"

Me: "Have you lost your mind, bitch?"

Deli Barista: "Don't change the subject, J. Who is she and when did you fuck her? How would you explain these cum stains on your boxers and the smell of her vagina?" *as she takes a big whiff right in front of me* I think she might have been turned on...I know I was. Wait, what?

Me: "Ok, bitch. Check this out. If I'm on Punk'd, I suggest you tell me NOW because if you're not, your ass needs to go."

Deli Barista: "Well I suggest you answer my question. I can't believe I was going to let you fuck me too."

Me: "Fuck you? My dick looks like a horror movie right now. The closest thing we were to fucking was my tongue going in your mouth. Get the hell out, crazy spice."

Deli Barista: "So now I'm crazy? I AM NOT CRAZY. You are just an asshole who fucks bitches and gets away with it."

Me: "I'm so confused crazy chick from Fatal Attraction. Did you forget to take your medication today? Who are you?"

At that very moment, I started to look around the room even more. My box of condoms that I don't even use (because I am Pro Raw Dog) was opened and every single package was cut up. I'm talking unwrapped to the longest dick length then trimmed from every fucking angle. Lying on the floor like a goddamn art project. All 12 of them. By guess who? Yup, crazy bitch.

My bottle of KY (for masturbation AND her pleasure purposes) squeezed the fuck out all over my carpet. That shit was brand new too.

People, this bitch went "50 shades of what the fuck" on me and I should have seen the signs from the beginning. What those signs were, I have no fucking idea. Something just didn't seem to feel right. While all this was going on as she kept refusing to leave, over and over again, she kept smelling my boxers and saying, "I know this is the scent of vagina! Who did you fuck asshole?!?!?!"

FLASHBACK...

I was at a party right before I started my butcher job. I was wasted. Met two chicks. Both sisters. They were down to ride the Pound Town Express trifecta style. However, one sister looked at me all night, not like she wanted to fuck me, rather, take my kidneys out and leave me for dead behind a Taco Bell. I told the other sister I just wanted to bang her into O-blivion (see what I did there?) because her sister looked like she was going to eat my dick rather than suck it. And I quote, "Yeah, she can be a little jealous at times when she's with me. She does weird shit that I don't even want to get into." I take the good sister back to my pad and was banging her ever since.

Then it hit me...

THE CRAZY SISTER WAS DELI BARISTA.

When I finally realized that, she knew. She also knew I was STILL banging her sister. How? Because like a drug dog, she apparently was smelling sister panties for quite some time and noticed that same scent on my boxers. Gotta be honest, not two vaginas smell alike and this broad came Dog The Bounty Hunter, correct. No fucking joking. This bitch went on a manhunt to get answers...but answers she did not get. I kept my mouth shut but had the look of so much guilt that I farted and told her she needed to leave before I shit myself on the rug.

She got her shit, took my boxers as a trophy and headed for the door. But before finally leaving, she told me this:

"I just want to know why you didn't want to have a threesome that night and just bang my sister instead?"

My response: "Tell me something...why did your last relationship end?"

Deli Barista: "Because I wanted my boyfriend all to myself. I was jealous and according to him, 'unstable.'"

Me: "You watched me sleep, sniffed through my crusty ass boxers, cut up all my condoms and poured out all my KY. You are one Lifetime marathon away from killing a motherfucker. Does that answer your question?"

She quit her job and I never saw her crazy ass again.

The moral of the story: If your gut is telling you something isn't right, it's probably because something isn't right or you gotta take a shit. Listen to your gut - it's one of the only things you can trust.

Advice Column: 50 Shades Of Crazy

What up J,

First of all been a follower of yours for a minute, love your work. And I apologize in advance for the long letter. But I need some advice..... I been with my female for 9 years, been living together for about 8. My dilemma is we just recently "separated"(last night) because of her non stop insane jealousy. First of all, I've always been a dude to have way more chick friends than guys. Sure I flirt but I don't do shit. Nor do I really look at it as flirting. (She does) I just seem to have a natural repoire with women. We get along and I just seem to know how to talk to em and make female friends really easy. But she got such extreme jealousy I can't even play or joke around with my female friends, can't get too close, no physical contact no matter how innocent it is without her straight tripping the fuck out.

Last night we were all drinking and she started losing it because me and one of my female friends were horse playing ( nothing sexual) more like junior high kids picking on eachother. Slap fighting and shit. Keep in mind my girl was literally 8 inches away from us and could have joined in on the drunken shenanigans, instead she freaked the fuck out. Waited till my friend passed out, started snapping at me, words were exchanged and she decked me in the fucking eye. Hard too, I got a swollen ass black eye like I caught a fist from fucking Rampage Jackson.

Now this is just the most recent time. She gets incredibly jealous and angry even if I just pay attention to another female who I been friends with 20 years. I ain't never cheated on her..... she says she has trust issues from past boyfriends. Meanwhile Im not allowed to have any kind of good time with any female other than her. Needless to say after I got my eye busted last night I called it quits. My problem is I Legit love this girl. I want and need to be with her but if I am I can't even have a close female friend (even if I known em 20 years). What the fuck should I do? How can I make her realize that she ain't being right and I wanna be with her but I ain't sacrificing every single female I know for it. That's just fucked. Help me out J.

Sincerely,
Tightlips



Dear Tightlips,

Before I get to my advice, I gotta ask. Tightlips? Really? Like pussy lips? Because that is one fruity ass sign off. Real Talk.

When I got your email, I had to read it once...then twice...and then a third time.... then it happened... my way back machine pulled up and I got in and took a drive down the Ike Turner Highway.

I flashed back to a girl I dated back in the day. This girl that was cool as hell. Cute. Nice ass. Great rack. Could chow on pole for days on end. Loved sports. Kept it real. I thought I had found the Holy Grail of bitches.

Fast forward to about 8 months into the relationship:

BITCH WENT KA-DU-KU.

Do you know what kaduku means, playboy? In Guam, when someone says, "You're kaduku" it's like saying you're crazy...but not like your average crazy. I'm talking like, "Bitch might stab you in the face just because the sun is shining too bright" crazy. I'm talking Kevin Spacey from the movie "Seven" crazy.

As much as she "loved" me, there was one problem - GIRLS. Not just any girls, but girls that were my friends. I feel you bro. I fucking feel you...but not in a gay way. You seem like you might be gay enough for the both of us, Tightlips McGee.

I knew my girl was not only jealous, but kaduku, when she tried to stab me with a spoon. One would think you couldn't stab a mother fucker with a spoon and succeed. Apparently, you can. I did not know this either until her brother told me she stabbed his ass in the back (literally) because he broke her movie "Clueless" on VHS. Ever since then, mother fucker doesn't eat anything with a spoon...even soup. My bitch was crazy like a soup sandwich. And since I fucking hate Souplantation, I ran like Usain Bolt from that lazy-eyed psycho bitch. Don't judge because she had a lazy eye. When that shit was working, she was on-point.

See, the way society works is simple - men tend to have friends that are female and vice-versa. Hey, shit happens. That's life. However, some people, like my old lady and your kaduku ass broad don't see it that way. Fuck no they don't. They think everyone is trying to fuck on their man, all day, errrryday.
The girl I was dating literally fought bitches. I'm talking, didn't even say a word to them...just went up to a chick and started going Van Damme on them, Bloodsport style. High kicks and all. Crazy, right? When I'm in a relationship, the first thing I tell a girl is this, "I have a lot of friends. Some of them, if not a lot, are women. We're tight and it goes nothing past a friendship." You know what all women I dated say to me when I tell them this?

"Sweetie, I have friends that are guys. I get it. It's not like you like them or want to fuck them so why would I care?"

6 months later, you wake up to your chick staring at you while you sleep, counting your breaths to make sure they are not too fast - which could only mean that you are cheating on her in your dreams. Real. Talk. The following may have happened or is about to, but make sure you are securely fastened in your seat because you are about to take a ride on the crazy train. Signs that your bitch might be 50 Shades of kaduku are as follows:

1) Accuses you of cheating...even when you've been with her every second of the day. This includes sleep dreaming, day dreaming and/or thinking.

2) Tells you daily that you want fuck all your homegirls...including any of your relatives, her relatives and her own mother.

3) Has no idea why you have three dead rabbits in your bed even though she's slept with you for the last 2,920 days.

4) Wants to get married and have 13 kids.

5) Reminds you that you're a piece of shit.

6) Let's every person know you're a flirt.

7) Tells your mother you're a player.

8) Screams and cries that you don't love her while "your song" acts as climactic background music with a slide show of your trip to Cabo is playing on the tv.

9) Mentally abuses you.

10) GOES KA-DU-KU.

Once your bitch jumps off the Cliffs of Kaduku, there is no getting her back. It is best to just cut your losses and let her go Aileen Wurnos (Lesbian Serial Killer from Florida) on some other poor shmuck.
Before you start packing your bags and patting yourself on the back for surviving the last 96 months of Chinese water torture, let me drop a little truth nugget in the toilet bowl that is your life. You are just as much at fault for the crazy as she is. Not because you are doing anything wrong, but because you are not doing anything. Period. You need to look down between your legs and remember you have a wang. No matter who this bitch is, I don’t care if her pussy shoots out sparks when she cums, no one can be that crazy, 24-7 and expect to keep a relationship going. Unless you are a sadomasochist. In which case you are probably already back together with the she-witch from hell and she is beating you like a 3 dollar hooker.

How you dealt with 50 Shades of Crazy for 9 years is beyond fucking me. I dated crazy for 8 months and had enough of her monkey mouth bitchassness. Don't get it twisted...I love women but you need to realize, like men, bitches got a "crazy switch". Once that shit lights up and turns on, you are fucked. And not in a "oh yeah baby, tickle my nuts again" kinda fucked. I'm talking "Jeffrey Dahmer, broomstick up the anus" kinda fucked. Keep this up, not only will you find yourself in a bathtub filled with ice, no kidneys and no cock but, poetry on the bathroom walls written in your blood and her dookie. I would say that's far fetched but when you got a broad who goes ape shit on you for no reason then almost knocks you the fuck out...her confessing her love on bathroom walls covered in blood and corn covered dookie seems legit.

I'm just confused as to why after 9 years you finally had enough of this shit now? That "crazy switch" must have gotten a new fuse, huh? End it while you can or I'll be watching your ass on the 10 'o clock news dead behind a Popeye's Chicken. And if you know me...I love me some fucking Popeye's. 

Don't even kick her out. Just leave and tell her you're gonna go buy some milk and never come back. 

J-Wunder 

Why It Is Important to Listen In Relationships

The look of a crazy person

All signs point to, "I'm gon' kill ya bitch!!!!"