Wait, What?! Podcast: Episode 3 - The "New Normal"

"Per My Last Email": It's Getting Hot In Huuuurrrrrrr

Work. Some love it. Some absolutely fucking hate it.

And if there is one thing WE ALL FUCKING HATE, are those goddamn emails where we either shake our heads, lose our shit or are just mind blown at the fact that people either:

1) Don't know how to fucking read.
2) Don't know what the fuck they are talking about.
3) Can't comprehend basic life skills, let alone their fucking job.
4) Are clearly over their head when it comes to their job.
5) Fill in the fucking blank...because there are a lot of them.

So today, I present to you a new segment that is part of the Ghetto Genius 4.0 regime.

WELCOME TO...

"PER MY LAST EMAIL"...

Hate that motherfucker that you just want to unload on but don't know how to? Don't worry, we got your fucking back!

You want to write something so cold blooded that it might get you fired so you're not sure how to tactfully make a Monkey Mouth Bitch eat their own ass? Don't worry, we got your fucking back!

Whatever it is, send us an email (jwunder33@ghettogenius.com) on what the fuck is going on and I promise you, we will have the response you've been looking for!

Please note, we are not responsible for you getting fired. If you are, you better make sure it was fucking worth it. LOL.

Oh, and if you are planning to leave your employer and want to send a really big FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING FUCKS email, WE DEFINITELY HAVE YOUR ASSES COVERED.

So without further adieu, check out the first of many...."Per my last email".

Boys Don't Deserve Names

At some point in my generation, girls became women and we said enough is enough. Enough of boys dragging us through the dirt only for us to help them every step of the way. Enough of us trying to read signs and decode secret messages when he was just “playing it cool.” Enough of being stood up and ignored and ENOUGH BAD SEX. It was time we started playing the game as well.

The Game
What is the game you may ask? Let me explain with a short story.

Girl meets guy. Guy meets girl. They like each other. But they don't want each other to know that they like each other. So both of them will simultaneously try to make the other think that they don't like them. Such things as blowing each other off, ignoring each other, and talking to other people are common occurrences. These patterns will usually continue until one person says "fuck it" and decides to cut all ties with the other, also known as "ghosting." And because the other person does not want that person to think that they care that they're being "ghosted", they reciprocate the "ghosting"  in which neither party will ever speak again. The end.

This seems to be a general theme within our generation. HOWEVER, I think us goddesses have evolved even further (per usual) and have learned to really play guys like the back of our hand. So much so that most of the time we don’t even dane to call them by their real names. Thus, begins my series of boys who do not deserve names.

Italian Boy 
Ahhh to be young and naive in San Francisco again. And by young and naive, I mean 5 months ago before I learned how dating in a big city works (I’m 22 for reference). Meet, Italian Boy. My first lover in the golden city. Before I became completely engrossed in the dating app scene (we’ll get into this later), I actually met this guy in real life. Ok, so, it was in a club. BUT STILL. Maybe we didn’t meet in a grocery store between the peas and carrots, but at least technology wasn’t involved. It was a pretty typical occurrence. We caught eyes. I stared. He stared. We made out. He grabbed my butt. I got tired and ditched him to get burritos. However, he did get my number which is how this whole rendezvous got started.

Like most guys do, he began by trying to woo me. We went out to drinks. I met his friends. We went back to his place. We drank wine. He cooked us risotto. It was orgasmic...

He then continued to tell me why everything is better when it’s Italian. Italian wine. Italian food. Italian people. Oh, did I mention he was Italian? We then had passionate, great sex (although I didn’t orgasm, so was it really?) and I went on my merry way.

Over the next two weeks we hung out a few times. Saturday brunch. Drinks at his place. I started dirty texting him for the first time in my life ever (OMG), but eventually the texts became less frequent and I found myself asking him to hang out way more than he way asking me. So I asked him what his deal was and he said “I want to spend more time with my friends and not have a serious relationship right now.” Typical. So, I cut all ties only to text him a few weeks later that we should still see each other, but only in the most casual capacity, if you get my drift.

He agreed, but now I had the power. Over the next few weeks, I continued to ignore most of his texts except once or twice for when I occasionally gave in. HOWEVER, he started hitting me with the “you never respond ;),” “did you fall asleep last night,” and my favorite, “we should actually plan a time to hang out instead of leaving it up to chance.”

LIKE WHAT DO YOU THINK I WAS DOING WHEN WE FIRST MET?!!?! Bye bitch.

I still text this guy every once in a while but this is just to prove that men want you to be all over them until you actually are and then they want something else. Mic drop. Thank you, next.

TV Guy
Awww TV guy. Sad this one didn’t work out. Would have loved being a sports reporter wife and fucking all the players behind his back. Just kidding but…hahaha. This was the first 30 plus guy I fucked in the city (don’t judge). It started out normal (as they always do). Saturday Breakfast. I was extremely hungover for this and had to go to work after UHG. Drinks and dinner. Sex at his place.

Before things started to heat up, I came to find he likes to talk dirty, and by likes to talk dirty I mean REALLLLLYY likes to talk dirty. Here I was, second time meeting this guy, as he’s whispering in my ear that he wants to french kiss my pussy instead of my mouth. It was obviously a red flag, but I was horny so whatever. We went to his room and started messing around until I asked him to grab a condom. Of which he has the most typical response ever that he can’t get hard with a condom, which I know is actually a thing but guys are such babies about it. Anyways, I tell him to try since I’m not having unprotected sex with a practical stranger (even though I have and probably still will occasionally, no judgment here). And we end the night with mediocre, half hard, half soft sex while he repeats things like “you like that?” and “is that big enough for you.” Sigh. Boys are idiots.

So what happened after that? I’ll give you one guess.

Boo.

Finance Guy 
We’ve all had a finance guy in our life. Those VC’s you assume are rich but you have no idea what they actually do or how much they actually make. He was 30 again  (I know I’m predictable). I’ve been told it’s because I’m mature, but LOL AM I??? Anyways. This guy was pretty granola. He had a great bod and could hold a conversation, but I can’t seem to recall one personality trait I really liked about him. He also religiously used condoms and was wayyyyy too into missionary.

However, this was the first guy I ever tried butt stuff with, and he liked when I gave him a little butt attention as well. WAIT DID SHE JUST SAY BUTT STUFF?!!? GUYS LIKE BUTT STUFF??!!? Yes they do, and not just giving but receiving (no, not a dildo up the ass but let's just say my fingers lingered a little past the balls). I’m not sure when the butthole became such sacred territory. Vaginas literally bleed every month, but for some reason people freak out that shit comes out of the asshole. I really don’t get it. It’s also soooo cliche that butt stuff is soooo sexy when it comes to a guy doing it to a girl, but the second you bring attention to it for guys they all become little bitch boys and freak out. Whatever.

This relationship ended in a somewhat cringeworthy fashion with the condom ending up inside of me, and him having to buy me plan B. After which, neither of us spoke again. That’s one way to break it off with a boy lol.

Crutch Wrap Supreme 
Look!!! An age appropriate guy!!! He’s 25!!! Too bad I named him after a Taco Bell menu item. This guy was a friend of a friend of a friend. We were all hanging out at my friend’s place when all these boys came over. One of them I kind of knew, and he proceeded to express his love to me throughout the night, and I was kind of into it. BUT. HIS FRIEND. Started making moves on me, and I didn’t really know what to do at first. Because MY friend didn’t make any moves, I started canoodling with HIS friend and we started making out at the bar. Confused? Same.

OH. I forgot to tell you he was on crutches this whole time, hence the name.

Anyways. I was actually making out with him in a bar right next to Finance Guy’s place and was texting finance guy throughout the night. Because I started freaking out that I might run into them both at the same time, I decided to ditch Crutch Wrap Supreme and meet Finance Guy near his place. HOWEVER, as I left the bar Crutch Wrap Supreme was at and walked over to where I was going to meet Finance guy, these foreign dudes (maybe Italian) started talking to my friend and I. We (mostly me) took a few drags of their cigarettes as we chatted with them. AND THEN, CRUTCH WRAP SUPREME shows up at the place I was supposed to meet FINANCE GUY. I end up having to practice my ninja skills by running past Finance Guy, tapping his shoulder, and skipping around the corner, so he sees me, follows me, and gets out of the viewpoint of Crutch Wrap Supreme.

And that was the last I saw of Crutch Wrap Supreme. He had my number, and we texted back and forth a couple times, but he never followed up on his proposal to grab dinner.

I wonder why? hahaha

Philosopher Boy
I interrupt this program to bring you some actual wholesome content. I promise you I’m not a cold, hard bitch all the time. This is a prime example of those guys that are perfect. Meaning they check off all the boyfriend qualifications like taking you to fancy dinners, introducing you to their friends, listening to your rants, and genuinely just being a great person. BUT FOR SOME STUPID FUCKING REASON YOU JUST DON’T FUCKING LIKE THEM GOD DAMMIT.

Philosopher boy was great. He took me to restaurants with tasting menus. He surprised me with fun dates. He was a great kisser. He went to Princeton and could hold a great conversation, but he just wasn’t the one *sigh*. My friend and I even hung out with him together once and she told me she could tell I wasn’t into him. As hard as I tried, you just can’t force connection. And so I ended up having to break up with a guy I wasn’t actually in a relationship with but was so nice that I couldn’t just ghost him. After getting some input from my peers we crafted the perfect break up text that I’m just going to leave here in case anyone else ends up in this situation.

The Break Up Text
“Hey, I’ve been thinking, and I’ve really enjoyed hanging out with you, but I don’t feel the connection I’m looking for. I just want to be upfront and honest about my feelings and don’t want to lead you on...you’re such a great guy but just not the one for me.”

Barf. At least it’s not the “It’s not you, it’s me” bullshit.

Frisky Boy 
Get ready for some juicy shit. Ok, where do I even begin? This all started on Hinge when some boy wanted to test my friskiness via text. I ended up texting him and not really giving him much to work on because let’s face it, I had never met him before. He then ended up not responding to me for about a week, of which I responded by sending him, a complete stranger, a semi-nude because 1. I felt like it and 2. I honestly just wanted the attention. For reference, it was a photo of my bare legs with my panties at my ankles and my hand looking as if I was going to feel myself…oh so sexy. This completely surprised him and jump started our frisky connection. It turns out, he was one kinky motherfucker, and we started dirty texting like no other. I am very new to the dirty texting world, and he completely opened my eyes. He would tell me things like how he wanted to fold me over his table, tie me up and fuck me slowly in the ass. He would ask me for nudes at work, and I would dutifully take them in the bathroom stalls. I loveddd when he told me what to do which is very new to me since I HATE when people tell me what to do in real life. I guess giving up control was a sense of relief for me.

HOWEVER, although I loved doing what he wanted, I didn’t lose sight of the fact that he thought he was some real. hot. shit. He lovvveeeeeddd playing the “busy” card and the “I’m so important I can’t text you back” card. So. Naturally. I had to fuck with him a little.

The first time he ignored me for a full night, he had specifically told me to text him later and see if we could hang out. I texted him and he simply did not respond. We were supposed to hang out the next day, so I let him know in the morning, “If you think we’re hanging out tonight, you’d be wrong.”

He apologized and blubbered and shit, but that’s when I realized I had to play this guy in order to come out on top.

Next time he ignored me for a full day, I followed up with a text saying, “getting ready for a date tonight, is this cute?” and a pic of me in my sexy, black underwear. He responded within seconds. This just further proved my point he was trying to play games. Mind you, this was a 33 year old man. You’d think they'd get better. They don’t. He ended up trying to be mean at first by saying “Very cute. Are you excited?” But then followed up with “I like that you’re trying to make me jealous.” This then started our convo on how he wanted to know the type of guys I was dating, and who I had hooked up with in the past. I sent him pictures of the guys and told him how far I had gone with them. Like I said, kinky motherfucker.

He, AGAIN, was not giving me enough attention one day so I hit him with the “just so you know, I will be fantasying about you fucking me with another girl tonight.” He, again, immediately responded (so, so predictable) with a million questions of whether or not I’ve done that before and if I actually wanted to.

I told him I was curious about it (which I was), and he proceeded to tell me about the French, Vietnamese model he used to date who was really into women. We then ended up starting a group message with Frisky Boy, Hot Model Girl, and me, and we all started dirty texting each other and getting flirty. I was really down to make this happen.

HOWEVER, Frisky Boy did as Frisky Boy does, and ignored me again for the last time. I ended up confronting him about it of which he didn’t respond to me AGAIN. And so, I followed up with a “Goodbye forever :)” text and blocked him on everything. It may seem dramatic but he should be graveling at my feet for what I was about to do for him. I did recently follow Hot Model Girl on Instagram though, so maybe something fun will actually come out of this after all.

Hot Model Girl
I can’t say  too much about Hot Model Girl yet, but she DID follow me back on Instagram and we exchanged a few DMs. Nothing has happened yet, but I’ve realized I’m open to the idea of girl on girl. Who knew?

Boy I Actually Liked
Time for the grande finale. I thought I would end this series by getting a little vulnerable with you guys. It’s all fun and games when you’re talking about sex and fuck boys, but there’s some real shit I have to address as well.

There was this guy. We’re just going to call him just Guy for lengthy purposes. He was actually my roommate for a few months along with 6 of my other friends. We also were co-workers in the same department (oh, so spicy).

It started out fairly innocent. We’d flirt. Go to the gym together. Get lunch together. I had a bad day, he bought me chocolate. He’d photoshop my face onto fish. You know, the normal stuff. I was actually really into him (although I denied it constantly, and still deny it lol). I know I was into him because he annoyed the shit out of me. Why is it that the guys I actually like are usually the ones I can’t stand to be around?

I think it might have been because he really knew me. Most of these guys I talk about think I’m hot and pretty. Some of them think I’m smart or quirky, but none of them really see me. They don’t know what makes me tick or what drives me. Guy knew. And I knew it about him as well.

Looks wise, he was a dreamboat, tall, blonde, brown eyed and a little scruffy. He was one of those super passionate, artsy types which I am too, but in a different way. If he has an idea he HAS to make it happen and won’t really listen to other’s opinions about it. I guess I’m almost jealous of him in that way (almost). I, on the other hand, LOVE hearing what people have to say and analyzing it until I find the most probable outcome (I know, I’m such a nerd). I like creating art but I want to create collective visions, not just my own. Anyways, as you can imagine, us working together caused us to…butt heads. Then, having to live together only made things worse.

I kind of wish things had worked out differently. I actually think if we had met five years later I would have fallen in love with him. We’re still friends, so maybe that will be a new chapter down the line.

Although I’m definitely all over the place when it comes to guys (and maybe girls? lol), I think there’s still hope for me in finding love and I can’t wait to experience it all.

Xoxo,
Girl Without A Name

Advice Column: The Grass Has Better Dick On The Other Side

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Oh, You're Offended? Sorry, Not Sorry.

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Advice Column: Men Have A Cock For A Reason

Dear J-Wunder,

Lately I've noticed this fag bag of a friend and his pathetic ass posts on Facebook. I need to get your take on this because I'm not sure if I want to kick this guys ass or throw him into a pit of fire. Every day he cries like a little bitch..."You don't know what you got til it's gone..." "Time to get my mind off things..." "Love takes time to heal..." Is this dude fucking serious? It seems like he wants people to posts comments just so he feels like he's getting the attention he is looking for. 

I love my friend, but fuck...I can't take this shit anymore. What's the deal? 
Your REAL advice is needed. 

Sincerely,
Men Have a Cock for a Reason



Dear Men Have A Cock for a Reason,

I couldn’t agree with you more…a dude's wang is just about his only redeeming quality. Oh wait, that’s not what you were getting at huh? Sorry, I got sidetracked for a quick second.

Look, I think your friend is just looking for some fucking sympathy. What a sad, sad sack of shit...casting out his hook – baited with vague tales of woe – in the hopes of landing some concerned responses by a bunch of gullible ass people. Genuine bad news is one thing, but these manipulative posts are just pleas for fucking attention. This though, is about the worst case I’ve ever come across. We all have friends that didn’t get hugged enough as a child and use Facebook as their crying wall...but this motherfucker takes the goddamn cake. Two words: Man-Gina.

If you’re wondering, no, you shouldn’t punch this ass-clown in the face. Maybe, unfriend him if you can’t handle it. I know it's tough reading your News Feed with all his silly-sack-of-shit heartbroken posts, but unfriending him in the "social networking" world might save you from finding the urge of running this motherfucker over with your truck. No need to get all psycho on a buddy that acts like a little bitch, right? Unless you're from Florida and are prone to doing crazy shit since there's something in the water in that goddamn place. Nothing surprises me these days.

The solution is pretty simple, my friend: it sounds like your whiny bitch of a friend needs to HARDEN THE FUCK UP. And I'm not talking about getting his cock hard either. I'm talking about being a goddamn man and not some crying fucking douche bag that gets all emotional over stupid shit. Men hang out with other men...pussy belong on women last time I checked. Then again, we have Kaitlyn Jenner. Wait, what?! Calm down you sensitive fucks. It's a joke. But I digress...

God, if only it were that easy.

Honestly, I would call him out like the little bitch that he is, and tell him to grow a fucking pair. And if he has a big pair that he's already packing, tell him to get that shit checked out because vaginas don't look like franks and beans. It is quite possible though that he doesn’t realize what a vagina he is being, and it just needs to be called to his attention. He might thank you...OR, he just might slap you in the face (notice I said “slap”). Either way, the situation has grown so grave that your options are limited.

Like you said, men have a cock for a reason, and those who act like they don’t, need to be called-the-fuck-out. I know I speak on behalf of some men, that women don't want a whiny fucking bitch for a man, and quite honestly, I don't even know any chicks that whine as much as this dude. Not even the crazy bitches.

Godspeed,

J-Wun

Advice Column: Taking One For The Team

Dear J-Wun aka Ghetto Genius, 

Been following you for a minute and can't thank you enough for coming back. Days are much brighter now. Ok, my question for you - A few weeks ago, my buddies and I were at a bar.  We got shit faced and ended up meeting a group of random hot chicks.  The problem was, the chick I ended up talking to the whole night thought she was SO fucking hot when really, she was fluffy, wore inappropriate clothes for her size, talked way too much about herself and thought she was the whole 9.  I was completely drunk and I realized beer goggles couldn't get past trying to "take one for the team" with the chubster.  Even though I knew I had to so my buddy could get laid.     

What gives man? 

Sincerely,
Taking One for the Team



Dear Taking One for the Team,

All men have made the sacrifice.  The grenade jumping, dynamite diving, the bazooka belly flop.  I'm talking about hooking up with THAT one heinous chick so that your buddy could seal the deal with her friend.  And when I say, "seal the deal," I'm talking about smashing.  Plain.And.Simple.  Keep in mind too, when I say THAT chick, I don't mean that in any type of cool or pimp daddy way.  Hell nah.  I mean that as something you should take with a grain of fucking salt, bundle it up and throw it away.  Forever.  Take it to the grave.  Don't forget to bathe in 50 fucking bath bombs made from all things Clorox product related for a few days too.

Taking one for the team is something you should never be proud of. HOW-THE-FUCK-EVER, if it gets your buddy laid, then that shows loyalty and good karma. Because when it's time for you to step up to the plate and smash that hot chick from across the bar, that favor you did for your buddy will pay off ten-fold. Well...sometimes. I mean, if your buddy is a total fucking dickbag, then it looks like you'll be either masturbating with your tears when you get home, or banging another broad with a brown bag over her head. But hey, sometimes dry streaks happen. But I digress...

I remember when I jumped on my first grenade. It was in college. And it was fucking awful. The bitch was ugly as sin, loved to eat, talked a lot and had more hair on her vagina than a 70's porn star.  Now you're probably asking, "Why did you choose to have sex with her, J-Wunder?!" I didn't. I was fucking wasted beyond belief.  It just so happened that when my buddy took a fellow lady on a ride to Pound Town, it was in the living room of the hot chick and her ugly roommates apartment. That right there called for me and cyclops to go to her room. Cyclops? Yeah, the bitch was cross-eyed so bad, it looked like she had one fucking eye. Try sitting in a room, wasted, and have someone hitting on you.  Wanting the dilznick so fucking bad that they basically take off their clothes to implicate they want to fuck you.  I never sobered up so fast in my life. Matter of fact, I was so scared to touch her that my dick inverted into my stomach which made me look like, I too, had a vagina. A shaved one...but nonetheless a mud flapping imposter.

Here I am, willing to jump on a grenade, but not risk my life. Risk my reputation. Risk the very thought that J-Wunder fucked a one-eyed girl with a vagina the size of a London Broil. No way, no fucking how was this happening. Then came the questions?

What? You're too good for me? I'm too ugly? Why did you come over to my apartment if you didn't want a piece? Are you scared to be taken advantage of by a REAL woman?

This bitch obviously didn't get the memo that was sent out to the crew. Am I too good for you?  Based on looks, One-Eye Bandit, yes. Are you too ugly?  Have you looked at yourself in the fucking mirror lately? For fuck sakes, you're atrocious lady!  Hey, sorry for sounding like a complete fucking dick, ladies, but for fucks sake...I'm just being real!

Why did I come over to your apartment if I didn't want a piece? Bitch, two things: 1) My buddy wants to bang your hot ass roommate then cum on her back, so I'm here for support, 2) The only piece of anything I want, is that fucking slice of pizza I warmed up in your microwave that I can't go get now, because there's a goddamn fuck fest going on in your living room. Are you scared to be taken advantage of by a REAL woman?  The only thing real is that fucking bush you call pubic hair.

Never thought I would encounter a grenade so big. So difficult. So damn fucked up. But I'm a guy, and guys follow guy code. Til fucking death. Now does that mean I need to touch this chick? Nope.  As long as I keep her occupied until my buddy and her roommate finish, then mission accomplished.  You need to understand, it's these women, that keep the hot chicks from fucking dudes. They spoil that moment. The moment when the guy thinks he has it in the bag then cyclops walks up. All of the sudden the Haterade kicks in. She's tired. She wants to go home. That guy looks sleezy. He might have an STD. Blah, blah, blah.  Do you know how many other dudes had to deal with this chick so their buddies could bang the chick my buddy was fucking? Hundreds. I'm just sayin'.  Now, how many guys actually went through with fucking good 'ol One-Eyed Willy remains to be seen, but I bet she got hers. Which brings me to my point of your question.

This chick that you couldn't get yourself to fuck has fucked dozens of men based on taking advantage of the grenade rule. She plays the game because she knows that's the only way she'll get laid (nowadays, people will just fuck to fuck). Hell, if not laid, then at least giving someone dome. Think about it. You know you're ugly as shit so why not hate on men if you know all they want to do is nail your roommate/friend? Men hate chicks that hate, that's why we created the grenade rule. Cyclops is now reaping the benefits because of this rule. But don't get it twisted. Girls do this shit too...take one for the team when it comes down to SERIOUS desperate times and measures. So yeah, feel bad if you're the grenade. Shit, I know I've been a time or 40.

Your experience with Fatty Magee knows this rule all too well. It's up to you to either do what I did and keep her occupied by playing 3 hours of card games. Or, just say fuck it and go deep sea fishing my friend. Either way, your buddy will be proud and have your back when it's time for you to get yours.

Bros before Hoes,

J-Wunder

Advice Column: Your Friend Is Not The Problem

Dear Ghetto Genius,

Okay so when i was about 12 i noticed my friend was gay..i knew he was gay b4 i even knew what gay was. HE WAS FLAMING! and it has gotten worse over the yrs and i found out why....u see his mother is also his sister....yes motherfucker u read that shit right and his father is also his brother....YES INCEST BRED A CHILD. *shudders* no wonder he is soooo screwed up! he looks like gothika..or samara from the ring... he makes one ugly ass women and an even uglier man...and he claims he is a female..but has kept his male name...i could have physically vomited!! anyway i jus wanna know how the hell do i accept him? it gives me the creeps but we have been friends since we were kids...yikes.



Dear Whoever You Are,

Jesus Fucking Christ. I'm gonna go ahead and leave your 3rd grade education out of this...for now. I'm not sure how you know someone is gay if you don't even know what the fuck gay is. Did you think you invented that shit when you made your little "discovery"? You give yourself a lot of fucking credit. So now you don't even know if you can be friends with this dude? You said it yourself, that this person has been your friend since you were a goddamn kid. You clearly had something in common with him at some point, and HOW he was conceived and by whom, should be of no fucking consequence to you. I don't see the connection between his gayness getting "worse" over the years "because of" who his parents are. Are you really telling me that you think he's MORE gay because Uncle Daddy fucked Auntie Mommy or whatever? REALLY? Get the fucking fuck outta here!!!

If you're any kind of friend, or have a decent bone in your body, you will realize that this guy, because of who/how he is, probably doesn't have a lot of friends, and the prognosis for more, better friendships is pretty fucking bleak so maybe you should stick around and be part of his support system. Makes you a real hero, doesn't it? Fuck no, it doesn't. It makes you a REAL FRIEND, motherfucker. I think you're missing some very important points in dismissing your friend because he is "flaming". Gay bros make some good ass friends, especially for chicks...and I'm a dude telling you that shit. You can do all the stuff you do with girlfriends, and then some. You can learn how to make your gag reflex a thing of the distant fucking past (best thing a gay ever taught some of my homegirls, by the way). You can go out to dinner and dancing with a guy who treats you nicely and knows how to dress without having to worry about the awkward, end of the night, "I like you, but don't really want to fuck you" scenario. The answer you're asking for boils down to whether you possess basic human fucking decency. Do you, twatsicle?

You know what a normal, non-fucking-judgmental, equality loving person would do? BE.HIS.FUCKING.FRIEND.YOU.FUCK. Show up for him at his drag shows, help him tape his cock to his leg or wherever they want to bend it, cheer him on when he does his Cher impersonation, hold his wig and jewelry when he gets to throwing hands with the other fucking queens...you know, the shit that FRIENDS do. Unless you can't. If you're so disgusted by this person who has been your friend for half of your fucking life (or more), then bounce. Just get the fuck out and go find some "better" friends. If, as you said, he makes you want to "physically vomit" (though I'm not sure of any other way to vomit), then get to fuckin' steppin' and don't ever look back, Seabitchcuit. He deserves some dignity and respect from his long-time friend who can't see her way around to loving him for who he is, so don't try to let him down easy to ease your own sorry excuse for a conscience. Tell him that you can't be his friend because his gayness makes you want to vomit. Yeah...your little "dilemma" is one you created for yourself by being an uptight, narrow-minded fucktard.

So, I says to myself:  "Self, what's this bitch's REAL problem?"

It would seem that YOU and your perceptions are the problem, not your friend, who has known who and what he was since the (first) day Cousin Doctor slapped him on the ass. It seems like he would be better off without a "friend" like you, who knows only how to fucking judge him for smoking pole instead of munching box. Did your daddy not fucking hug you enough or what?

You Got Problems,

GG

Can't Get Out Of This One, Granny!

The Angry Employee Who Hates His Female Co-Workers

best of craigslist > philadelphia > To the women who work in my office... I hate you
Originally Posted: Fri, 10 Nov 16:56 EST 


To the women who work in my office... I hate you

Date: 2006-11-10, 4:56PM EST

Girl with the bright blonde weave who works in reception- I don't know how you got your job, you are so uneducated it makes me sick. Did you graduate grammar school? I think I would respect you more if the answer to that is no. I want to throw a rock at your face every time I walk by when you are answering the phone and you say something like: who you callin'for? or "he in a meetin' right now" or my personal favorite, "who this is?" I bet the people on the other end of the phone want to throw a rock at your face too. I also can't stand when I get message notes from you that are written like so: Mr. Smith called hes wanting to kno wen he shuld ecspect the letter of aprovle. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? It amazes me that the only two things in your job description are answering phones and taking phone messages and you can't do either of those things! 

Tall girl in design with the short brown hair- You have horrendous body odor! I'm not talking a little stench here and there I am talking everyday when you walk into the building people drop dead. I don't know how you don't notice it. I'm going to buy you deodorant for Christmas. 

Fat woman who works in suite 19- I don't know exactly what you do for this company, but I know far too much about your personal life. When you talk to your boyfriend on company time, please refrain from telling him it felt so good when he slipped his hard dick into your fat ass! Yea I heard that, and so does everyone else that walks by your suite when you are on the phone. It's disgusting, and we don't want to hear about it, so keep your voice down. 

Blonde woman who works for accounting- I know that you are 30, not 25 and I also know that at the Christmas party last year you had sex with the bosses son in the broom closet and that he got you pregnant. Please don't insult me in front of our coworkers again or I will tell everyone. 

Hot girl that works in sales- When you wear that brown skirt with the white flower on the bottom and you sit down, we can all see that you don't wear panties. 

Boss' old receptionist- My name is not, John, Jason, Jack, Jim or Jared- it's Evan. 

Middle age woman who works in reception- Your job is not that hard. You answer phones, put people on hold, and take messages. I don't care that you were up late cleaning the house or that you sat up all night waiting for you delinquent son to get home, that does not give you a reason to get rude with a customer or walk around bitching about how your job is so stressful. Half of us come in still drunk from the night before, but we never yell at clients, bitch about our family members or say our jobs are soooo hard. 

Pregnant bitch- There is only one of you, so no need for further description but let it be known that you are not the first person to ever get knocked up! You are not the first person to get heart burn, you are not the first person to get morning sickness. You are not the first person to pee their pants because the baby put too much pressure on your bladder and you certainly are not the first person who has had strange cravings for cheese and anchovies. Stop complaining about it! 

Little intern girl- You are so cute with your stringy brown hair, acne and braces but your coffee skills are lacking. All I ever want is a large black coffee but you seem to thing that I would rather a low-fat latte, or a caramel machiato, or even a Chai Tea. Nope I don't want those, I just want a damn black coffee! Also, you obviously don't know your alphabet because my filing cabinet is a mess. F does not come after R, sweetie. Do you want to flunk the class you are doing this internship for? No? You better shape your ass up and get me the right coffee then! 

Pretty girl who is head of the writing department- You are the only girl who works in this office that I can stand. You greet me every morning with a bright smile and a cheery hello. And you are so damn smart. No wonder you are 22 and head of the department that could pretty much make or break our company. One time I asked you the Circumference of the earth and you kew it! Usually I would think that is weird and dork but from you, I find it really hot. I also like that you are the only girl in the company that hasn't slept with someone that works with us. But for the record, if you slept with me, I wouldn't respect you any less. 

Hispanic girl who works in design- You wear way too much makeup, I hate that you draw your eyebrows on, and I'm pretty sure you have an adams apple and are a man. 

35 year old secretary- You have a 20 year old son, and a 15 year old son... yet you dress like you are 16. I would be embarrassed to be your children. Oh and you look really stupid when you wear that plaid school-girl skirt with the white tights and hooker boots. This is an office... not a brothel. 


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Aged Like A Fine Wine Cooler

Yo! What in the actual fuck, y'all?!

I was kicking it in the pool this past weekend...relaxing, peeing in the shallow end then it hit me - I'm 40 and I'm aging like a goddamn old person. Not like a cool old person either. I'm talking about an old person who hates every motherfucking thing known to man but gets their joys off the worst shit in the world.

People. Friends. Foods. People. Music. Did I say people, yet?

I can barely tolerate shit. Hell, I can barely tolerate ME.

On the real, I've lost a step...or a hundred.

It's like I used to have rhythm. Now, I look worse than Carlton dancing to Tom Jones' Greatest Hits. I guess it's not unusual to be loved by anyone bc that's how a motherfucker feels now. But ask me how many fucks I give?

Music is complete shit. Maybe that's why. Or is it?

Social media has become a newsfeed of experts who haven't finished high school that think they know more than actual experts. Look, I don't give a fuck if you are on the left or right side. All those motherfuckers have drank way too much of the political Kool-Aid. Bottom line, our country, our world is COMPLETELY FUCKED.

There are only a few things I have going for me at this stage of my life:

- Booze: I still drink it.
- Sex: I still have it.
- Masturbating: I still do it.

Before I go off on the deep end, can I just tell you guys that my beard has become more white by the day? Not that I'm complaining but man, what the fuck happened to me in the last year? Oh, that's right...I got fucking older. Not wiser. Not dumber. Just older. Maybe some brain lapses along the way...but hey, let's not try and get all WebMD and shit. This isn't the time nor the place.

I'm not here to remind all of us old folks that our backs hurt, our pubes turn colors like the seasons and we start to hate more people every day. I'm just here to remind y'all that sometimes, we don't age like a fine wine...we age more like a Wine Cooler. Notice how I didn't say, "Fine Wine Cooler" bc there is nothing fine about that shit.

This is how fucked up I've been...I'm starting to enjoy White Claw.

WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK?!

And why the fuck are they charging $16.99 for a 12 pack?! See what I'm saying?! I know the price bc I was at the grocery store the other day trying to stock up on some stool softener to get my dookie on point and I decided to browse the booze aisle and all I cared about was getting me some White Claw. What have I become? The older I get, am I starting to become my worst nightmare?

A BASIC FUCKING BITCH?

*cue H-Bomb saying, "Bitch, you've been a basic bitch yo whole life, motherfucker!"*

I was the guy who loved craft beer, great wines and amazing booze. Now, I don't even know who I am anymore.

The other day, I yelled at some high schoolers outside my car to turn down their music. I gotta be honest, I have no fucking clue what the fuck they were listening to. All I know is that it sounded awful and it made me have vertigo. I was that guy. I was that OLD guy.

It gets worse people.

Sometimes during my lunch at work, I like to go on walks. Like, around the block and shit. You know the only walking I did before I turned 40? It was to the bar...for 2 hours then back to work. Pray for me bc I don't know who this monster is.

I drink tea in the morning. Fucking tea! By the way, Traditional Medicinals is really great and their products have something for everyone. See...what the fuck?! Who am I?! If my mom were to read this shit, she would have a fucking heart attack.

As I'm typing, I'm realizing I have no fucking idea what I actually wrote, let alone, if any of this shit makes any fucking sense. That's just something we will all have to get used to I guess. Your boy GG going on tangents about nothing, drinking White Claw and watching those SPCA commercials where Sarah fucking Mclaughlin makes you want to adopt every fucking animal bc that's what good people do. What's next? Me owning a bunch of fucking cats and hummingbird feeders bc "I just love everything about them".

The next time one of you see me, please slap the shit out of me, tell me to wake the fuck up, then pour half a bottle of tequila down my throat so I can find where my ballsack has been hiding.

I'm in a state of CODE RED.

I need to be saved. I don't care if it's from the local priest who might touch my weiner for committing sins or Karen who wants to speak to the manager every time she steps into a Target.

Someone save a hoe. This hoe.

Your hoe.

J-Wunderhoe.

This Is 40

I have been talking to Jim aka the Ghetto Genius (fight me, I fucking dare you, you bald Guamaican bitch. I will smack you with my Louis Vuitton hard shell purse and walk all over you in my shoes from the kids section at Target) about my impending 40th, because his always one-upping ass had to do it in April, a whole 7 months before me. Bitch.

It all started with his meow-meowing about a year ago, when we were in New Orleans for her Birthday (I know what I did there); we all went out draaaaaaaannnnnnnking and were lot hungover one day and needed food desperately, but the NorCal peeps were concerned because it had been raining all.damn.day. Widdle GG couldn't go outside in all the scary rain or he was gonna melt his widdle jamocha self into a pool of coffee ice cream. My Floridian ass had to keep explaining to them that A) this was a sprinkling. This wasn't even real rain. This wasn't the sideways, windshield pounding, you gonna be a bitch and pull over cus you can't see, almost CAT 1 Hurricane rain, that we get for basically 7 months out of the year. B) it wasn't stopping and if someone didn't feed me soon it was going to get real Lord Of The Flies-ish up in that AirBnB. Thankfully, no one wants to see a hangry H-Bomb, and we went around the corner to get food. I didn't even wear a rain coat or bring an umbrella, cus like I said, this wasn't even rain. R-Kelly would  have been really pissed with the lack of liquid coming out of the sky.

This was the foreshadowing of what I knew was to come. And lemme tell you, this motherfucker always got something going on. At this point, he's held together like Pickle Rick. But not as cool as Pickle Rick. However, I should have shut my whore mouth a year ago, because now that I am less than 4 months from 40, I see what this fool was talking about. Am I sorry I made fun of him? FUCK NO. He's still a bitch. But, now I may have an ounce of empathy. Here's why...

For years, I have always been the friend who is hot. Not hot like, damn, she's a 10. Hot like, "why the fuck would someone turn the AC to anything above 74?" It had become somewhat of a joke with my friends that I was always hot, I would have thermostat wars with the people at work, and when people would come into my office they would take pleasure in telling me how freezing it was, to which I would reply, "I keep the bitch cave arctic to keep dumb people from feeling the need to spend more time than necessary in my office." It worked like a fucking charm. Still can't figure out why they let me go in May, though. Just kidding, I know why. I am a grade-A Cunt. I have made peace with that.

All of this, "It's getting Hot in Herrrrrre" in my life did make me wonder. When I went to have my annual inspection of my undercarriage, I asked if this was the sweet relief from all the agony of womanhood that I had been dealing with for the last 28 years? The NP looked at me with a small grin and asked if I had been getting night sweats (yep), changes in cycle (yep) and all the other normal indicators. Then she fucking broke my heart. She said I was PERImenopausal and this could last 10 years before ACTUAL menopause kicked in. What in the actual fuck? All the visions I had in my head of raw dogging with the Silver Fox Fuckboy (more on that to come) were zapped away and replaced with, "I still gotta deal with this for maybe 20 more years?" If you have not seen a late 30s woman plead for permanent birth control, let me tell you, it ain't pretty. Oh, and since I have never spawned a tiny tax deduction, I can't get permanent birth control (also another story for another time). So, I dragged my sad ass out of the doctor, filled my prescription for birth control, and swallowed my little pill of sadness. Not before shouting, "Thanks OBAMA," when I didn't have to pay a copay.  I thought it was gonna be easy, take this pill, you will be ok; my body said, "fuck you boo" and decided that after almost 30 years of the same PMS it was going to switch it up. Now I get PMS when I ovulate, not with my cycle, and this ain't ya moms PMS, this is crying over everything, MOOD SWINGS like whoa, and pain that makes me want to punch the baby I never had, just for being the egg that dropped. Fuck outta my uterus you little freeloading shit.

If this weren't enough, a few weeks ago I went to the doc again, because I wasn't feeling right and the doc looked at me with that face that you never want to see at the doctor's and didn't speak for a second and then said with a voice full of concern, "are you under a lot of stress," to which I replied that I have had a lot of life changes, to keep it light and get her the fuck on with what she had to tell me. She then told me that I had high blood pressure, but she was more concerned because my BP is usually so low that they take it a few times to get a better read. She took it again, and it was still high. So high I almost had to go to the ER because it was that high.  She gave me several lectures and now I have to take blood pressure meds, cut back on alcohol (you're welcome liver), and follow a low sodium, low calorie diet, like a goddamn geriatric. For anyone keeping score, that is two major systems that are shot out like a crack whore on payday.

The worst though came last week. I got a cold. A normal, run of the mill, sore throat, stuffy nose kind of thing I would typically attribute to a weekend of shitty blow and shittier decisions, but alas, I don't live that life anymore. Le Sigh. So I take a day off of work to recover and in my fevered state I make the decision to do something I have not done in 25 years. I missed a Dave Matthews concert. That I had free tickets to. In the pit. With all my favorite people. Because the thought of standing in the heat, feeling like the bag of smashed assholes that I looked like, and not being close enough proximity to my bed to crawl into at anytime was not something I was into. Just 3 years ago I left work, slept for a couple of hours, gotten on a 5am flight to Niagara Falls, saw Dave Matthews Band,  flew back out at 6am and went straight to work from the airport. I was a concert beast. I have camped for a festival in Napa, braved the heat of Jacksonville in April (with strep throat) for another festival, but this time my damn near 40 year old body covered me in "nopes" and put my whiny bitch ass to sleep for 3 days.

Again, do I feel bad for constantly telling GGJim that he is a bitch? No, because he is. Is he allowed to call me a bitch for this? Also, no. But, am I feeling a little This is 40 Shame for being a bitch? yes.



This bitch...SMH.

Everyone, let's switch gears to my side of things. Yes, it is your boy, GG. J-Wunder. The Bomb From Guam.

All I heard from our girl H-Bomb was, "Blah, blah, blah...my vagina. J-Wun is gay. My vagina...blah, blah, blah...Dave Matthews gets me wet. Blah, blah...blah, blah, fucking blah." You're welcome.

As some of you may or may not know, I turned 40 in April. Let me tell you something.

Life has took a turn, y'all. Here's a list to not only entertain you, but to enlighten the fuck out of you.

1. Spicy foods: Yeah, not anymore, amigo. Say hello to the ring of fire...times a thousand. I love the hot shit. Always have. Now when I eat anything with a kick, my butthole kicks back. In a BIG way. Remember those dragons in the Game of Thrones? Imagine that, but in your asshole. When I eat spicy, it's a 2 day game of Game of Anuses.

2. Drinking: I can't believe I'm saying this but my hangovers went from non-existent in my 20's, to "it hurts a little bit" in my 30's and now...now, I cry in the shower, while holding myself every so gently. As if I was a little lost fucking fawn, trying to find my mom, shitting my pants at every noise I hear as I walk in the scary dark forrest. What in the actual fuck, people. Not saying I'm a complete pussy, BUT, these hangovers have changed me. For the better? Fuck no. I still will drink til I pee a little in my pants. I will beat this!!!!

3. People: Now I understand the older you get, the more you distance yourself from people. Because you fucking hate them. And it's not just me...it's like everyone who gets older. I used to love millions of people. Now, I love like 10 people. I swear, the next time I have someone walk in front of me at a snails pace, I'm throwing them onto oncoming traffic. Don't hate the player, hate the age.

4. Sleep: As in, I thought I didn't get any before I turned 40...now, why the fuck do I even close my goddamn eyes. The statement will forever hold true - I'LL SLEEP WHEN I'M DEAD. Bc at this fucking rate, I'll be dead in 5 fucking years.

5. Irritability: I'm typically not an irritable person. I hit 40, then EVERY GODDAMN THING ANNOYS THE SHIT OUT OF ME. Hell, I annoy myself. How the fuck does that even work?! I take a shit. I'm annoyed. I'm eating a delicious meal. You guessed it...ANNOYED. Having sex? An...al. Gotem!!!!!

6. Appearance: God blessed me with such good looks. Then, I turned 40. Salt and pepper is looking more like, homeless and confused. Oh, and good thing I keep my head shaved bc apparently, I'm going bald on top of my head. With a little bit of hair growth, my shit looks like a monkey's ass. Only thing going for me is this dad bod though. Praise Jesus the Gardener.

7. Immune System: I get sick maybe once a year...and that's not even from some chicks vagina. This is like legit shit. This year, got the flu. Two weeks later, strep throat and a sinus infection. Bruh, is this what it feels like before you die...or when you are actually fucking dying?!

8. Sexual Drive: Still got it so calm the fuck down, people. Giddyup, bitches!

9. Tastes in things: With age, comes better tastes. Bar tabs are higher. Dinners are...Jesus, why the fuck do I even go out when there's food at home?! I'm broke is what I'm saying, y'all. I'm fucking broke.

10. No fucks given: Y'all know I don't give a fuck. But at 40, my fucks are in the negative. I have over 2 trillion negative fucks that even if I gave a fuck, I still don't give a fuck.

40 has taught me things that I would have never learned at any other age. Then again, I'm probably fucking lying bc next week, I'll probably say that I learned some bullshit at "X" age and would have never learned it at 40. Which is another point...getting this old, you can't remember what the fuck you said or did bc shit is always fucked up. Wait...seems like that's been my life this whole time. 

Advice Column: Moveon.com

Dear J-Wunder,

I took a look and saw you are still around so figured I would hit you up for some advice. I need to know how to deal with this. There is this chick, not just any chick. She's been my home girl for years. We grew up together, I've known her since grade school and I swear to god I have wanted her my whole life. I love her. She loves me. I can't picture my life without her in it. But like any other man out there, I have been hesitant to take a plunge into commitment and have led her on for almost our entire lives. Over our adult years we have had the most amazing sex of our lives. Its all there, she is cute, sexy, funny, she can suck dick, and when we would fuck, it was some shit from a goddamn fantasy. 

No one else has ever looked at me like she could read my mind the way she does. She looks at me, can say "hi" and I know she wants to fuck me with that look. This girl can look at me and it is as if she is digging into my fucking soul and grabbing my dick at the same time. I'm telling you...she gives me the look and I want to tear her clothes right off her. This is some crazy shit. Anyway, she has tried to get me to settle down, but for some reason I just can't. I know I could have her. And I know when I settle down it is her that I want. She's told me she wants to take care of me and I don't want to give that up. Even though no one has ever compared, I string her along. What the fuck is wrong with me? 

She has recently told me that she is getting serious with one of the guys she is dating and wants to know if there is ever a chance to make something work between us because she loves me. She wants to actually date, be a couple, all that. Should I just try to get my shit together and actually take a chance on this? I'm sure at some point she will give up and I will no longer have the possibility of being with her. Right?

Never Say Never







Dear Never Say Never,

I think you may be one of the first men to ever make J-Wunder jizz just by reading a request for advice. Was your story particularly hot? Naw motherfucker, it was bland as week-old white bread. But the reason he creamed his pants is because he legit thought you were my ex-boyfriend writing in to fuck with me and he was going to make me answer some secret shit about my own life, like the sick fuck he is. But, he forgot about my powers of perception, i.e. reading, and that I could see the email and know that you are not, in fact, my ex-boyfriend. He's still a sick bastard, but imma treat his ass in a few months when I see him. Let's get down to the matter at hand.

You are the quintessential fuck boy of the worst kind. You have a woman, whom you profess to love, love fucking, and think is the goddamn tits. AND YOU STILL DON'T KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE WITH HER. I swear to God, and you can call the fucking cops on me, I want to drive to your house and beat the shit out of you. And I am not one who is prone to fits of violence, but I have been that girl. For twenty goddamn years I was that girl. And let me tell you, I am the fucking bees knees, too, so I know how that poor girl is feeling right meow.

Let me tell you my tale of woe, in the hopes that you can learn from my ex's fail. And fail he did.

Picture this, South Florida, 1997. I am a young, hot, nubile goddess, just discovering the joys of boys and the O-Face. I have a very nice best friend, whom I hung out with quite often and one day he introduces me to his other best friend. I shall leave him nameless, but there are many people who will know exactly who the fuck I am about to put on motherfucking blast. Anywhoosies, I meet said friend of friend and we are like DAMN, but we stay friends. I end up dating another friend of theirs, and one drunken night when I am mad at the friend I am dating, I end up hooking up with the first friend of a friend. Yeah this is getting convoluted, so we will call the ex A.

A and I mess around, that one time (I am 20 by now, so 3 years of eye fucking each other have passed), but then I go back to the other guy and we go back to being friends (Thanks DMB). I move away, another few years pass (ok, like 6) and I am out and about with my bestie one night and I was like, "You know who I would love to see? A."  And as if through some sort of slut magic, A walks by about an hour later. We catch up, reminisce on the good ol' days and make plans to hang out. This time hanging leads to banging and banging leads to feelings.... but alas, young A is not ready for the trappings of a girlfriend and after a few years of toe curling sex and good times, we go, cue Dave Matthews, back to being friends. To make a long story longer, this goes on one more time, and one more time we get this close to being a thing, and then, like a fart out of J-Wunders butthole hair, poof, its gone. Same thing, he doesn't want to be in a relationship, blah blah blah.

Now, let me sidetrack - Karma did kick him right in the balls, because he did get into a relationship with this batshit crazy broad who ended up...drumroll please. LEAVING HIM FOR ANOTHER WOMAN. Thanks, Karma, you mah boo.

Let's go to the present-ish day, because while I am a brilliant, ball busting, bitch, I am not always good with the "love stuff". A and I get back together, again. A couple of years ago, we got reacquainted (due to the death of the friend who introduced us, very sad) and started hanging out again. And just like spooning leads to butt-stuff, we started hanging and banging. This time I was smart; I told him that we could be fuck buddies, but that we could not be kissy-kissy in front of his family or friends and that we had to keep all the PDA shit behind doors and tied to the bed, just the way I like it. This went on for a few months, and then one day he kissed me in front of his family - I should probably tell you that his family and I are VERY close. His family adores me, and I them. His mother has always told me I am the favorite of any girl that his son has brought home and so on and so forth. You get me, fam? It is not just him I am dating when we date, I am dating the whole family. Which is why I didn't want to do this for the third time.

But, like all dumb bitches who are dickmatized, we make it official. My iPhone becomes an usPhone and we do the damn thing. I told him, don't fuck with me if this is not what you want, because I am too old for this shit and I ain't got no time to be someone's "maybe." Lo and behold about a year later, he tells me he loves me, but is not IN LOVE with me. So we bang, break up, and I move on with my life. JUST. LIKE. THAT.

Flash forward a few months ago. Just fucking follow along, don't read too much into that last sentence, dick bag. I have a point. I start dating this very nice man (yet, also not into the relationship thing, but that is another column for another time) and things are going swimmingly. I am over at the ex's house, because now we are just friends and get along great. For reals. I have gotten over the shock and awe of being a 3 time loser in the love game with this fucker, but we cool. We are all hanging out and drinking and he gets a little tipsy and confesses to me that he thinks he made a mistake. He thinks I may be the one and he fucked up, he's fucked up, and all that sad sack bullshit. But guess what???

NOT TODAY, SATAN.

Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me... Fool me three times, you lucky I don't pull your nuts through your trachea and then punch myself in the face.

Also, his mom pulled me aside after brunch and told me she was sorry about her son. See, my friend, it is not just the person you fall in love with, you fall in love with the whole package. For once, I don't mean the dick. I am just as surprised as you are. Trust.

Do I need to spell out the moral of this Melrose Place After School Special? Don't fuck with her unless you plan to fuck with her FOR LIFE. Don't make her stop living her life so you can keep her in a well and just rub lotion on her when it is convenient for you. You have seen Silence of The Lambs, right? Buffalo Bill dies in the end, after getting shot by some bitch that was chasing him. Ok, maybe that is a dark simile from my favorite movie, but damn son, don't sit on your dick waiting for what ifs. Don't think that the bigger, better, deal is going to walk through your door and sweep you off your feet. There are no Victoria Secret models trying to make a house husband out of you. If this is the girl of your dreams, then fucking do something before someone else realizes how fan-fucking-tastic she is and you are relegated to getting blowies by the former hot chicks from your high school that got fat. She will move on. She will do better than you. I promise you. Because she is me, and that is exactly what the fuck I did.

Have a blessed day.

- H-BOMB

Tales From The Cryptic

It's 2018. The year one would think the shit that annoyed us on social media, would come to a fucking end. Well folks, I'm here to tell you, that what I thought would stop, has gotten fucking worse! AND we're not even a month into the New fucking Year. What in the actual fuck?!

What I would like to discuss today is regarding those motherfuckers who act like they don't want attention, but in reality, love the fuck out of it. I'm talking about you cryptic-ass motherfuckers. And to make this column even better, I've created a short list of people, unlike you and I, that I'd like to throw into a pit of fire, while urinating on them and singing, "Face Down, Ass Up" by 2 Live Crew...bc I fucking love me some 2 Live Crew. Let's begin, shall we?

1) Calling Doctor Attention:

Oh, you all (except you fucks who are guilty of this crime) know who the fuck I'm talking about. Those piece of shit motherfuckers who ALWAYS check-in on Facebook when they go to the hospital. Doesn't matter if it's for an annual physical or the common cold, these assfucks will do whatever they can to make others wonder. "OMG, what happened? Are you ok?" "Dude, what the fuck is wrong?!" "Please call me." "I hope it's not anything serious." I mean, I can go on for days with what people will comment on these types of posts. You catch my drift. The best part about all of this is how the person posting the status or check-in, is that they will not respond to ANY comments. You know what I say to that? I say, "FUCK YOU, YOU ASSHOLE." Hey, if you're gonna post some shit like that, why not tell us what the fuck is going on. Because let's be real...you like the attention. You like that people act as if they care. You are the only motherfucker on this planet that posts hospital check-ins 2-3 times a month, which makes us think you either have a serious and fucked up STD or AIDS. Not sure but, in our minds, you're dying, and we'd like it if you'd stop being such a cunt and tell us when your funeral is.


2) Jesus Take The Wheel:

"Pray for me..."

WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS ABOUT?! Like, for reals. That's all you're gonna post, motherfucker?! PRAY.FOR.ME. Really, bitch? Pray for what? You dying? Someone in your family dying? Wish that your side chick told you to put on a condom after you just blew two months worth of baby gravy into her hot pocket after she stated she wasn't on any birth control?

WHAT.THE.FUCK.

And just like "Calling Doctor Attention," the comments flow in at a rapid fucking rate. "Prayers." "Prayers to you and whatever is going on in your life. Love you." "OMG. I just texted you. What is going on?" "Did you tell mom? Call me ASAP!!!!!" One thousand comments later and STILL, no response to any of these motherfuckers and what you'd like them to actually pray for. How bout we pray that you stop posting stupid shit like this and just keep all your personal bullshit off social media, fuckface. How does that sound, twat?

Next.


3) Give Me A Break-er:

"I can never get a break..."

Welcome to the real world, motherfucker. You can't get a break, huh? Take a number bc there are millions of motherfuckers in this world who can't get a break...shit, they can't even get a goddamn job for fucks sake. What do you want us to do? You think we have some sort of magical fucking wand where we will take all your troubles away then hand you a check for 400 billion dollars, asshole?

Do us a favor and stop with your cryptic post. What good are you doing? To be honest, while you post some shit like this, your asshole friends are all thinking, "Damn, this motherfucker is at it again. Posting some whack ass shit when they be living at home with their folks and don't have to pay for shit. What happened? Nail salon closed early? Your cobb salad came with blue cheese when you specifically said NO GODDAMN BLUE CHEESE?!"

AIN'T NOBODY GOT TIME FOR THAT.


4) The Oversharers: 
       
With all the evidentiary support we have out there that we are being watched, monitored, data-mined, whatever the fuck, WHY DO YOU STILL PUT EVERY GODDAMN BREATH YOU TAKE ON FB?!

Like, we LITERALLY know there are apps and quizzes that say, "WE USE YOUR INFORMATION." The only person bringing mining jobs back to America is Zuckerfucker - and those are data mining jobs.

If you wonder why you are seeing ads on the book of faces about some shit you looked up .0000000087412 seconds ago, it is because the book is straight up creeping your shit. That you post. Every 45 fucking seconds. There you are...letting every goddamn Tom, Dick and Harry know when you change your relationship status, when you stayed in a hotel room doing choke sex and blowing lines off the room service cart, when you are 8 minutes pregnant and when you wish a motherfucker would.

Shit, I remember the days when, if we wanted to know something about them, we just asked. You actually called a motherfucker. On their land line. And asked them what the fuck was going on in their lives. Now, you just open up the Book or the Gram (did you know they are both owned by Zuckerfucker?) and you can straight up see pics of newborn babies, covered in they mom's placenta, and the proud parents beaming "here she is." Now can you go the fuck away and deactivate your shit, you oversharing assholes.

5) "It's Complicated":

"Fuck my man. I'm deleting all his friends from my friends list. Whatever he told you, he's a liar. I can't believe I was so stupid to be with this person for so damn long." Blah, blah, blah, blah, fucking B-L-A-H!

Those that air their dirty laundry, especially while in relationships, are the bottom barrel of fucktards.

Do y'all know how fucking stupid you sound...to EVERYONE?! True story.

There you are...thinking you've got this and through shit like Facebook, you think you're showing the world how independent and strong you are. Sure, in your mind, that's what you convince yourself of when really, every motherfucker reading your shit is thinking, "Here we go again with this bitch." "She's got to be the dumbest motherfucker on Facebook right now." "Damn, she's leaving him AGAIN?!" "Didn't these assholes just get back together two days ago? They broken up "for good" this time?!"

GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE WITH THAT NOISE.

Few things:

1) You're an idiot.
2) No one in their right goddam minds believe anything that comes out of your mouth when it comes to relationships. Why? Because you're the worst at it.
3) While you think we have your back, we're just laughing at you.
4) There is not enough popcorn in this world to see your life collapse into shambles. Sucks for us.
5) See 1 through 4.

Why must these people do this to themselves?! It's the best and worst thing that we see on the daily. Hey, we get it...you suck at relationships. You are the prime example of what not to fucking be or do. What you have isn't called love. It's called being DYSFUNCTIONAL, you silly fuck.

So there you have it. Five amazing assholes we hate to love and love to hate. Now, I know a lot of you will say, "Well, just unfollow or unfriend them." Why on earth would we do that? Because we're bitching about it and it annoys the living shit out of us? That's the easiest and most obvious thing to do. But why do that when a lot of us enjoy watching train wrecks that have absolutely nothing to do with our lives?

Social media is a love/hate. We love it and hate these people. We just can't turn away. Can you blame us?

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Peace out, bitches!