Showing posts with label funny. Show all posts
Showing posts with label funny. Show all posts
Saturday, January 16, 2021
Friday, December 11, 2020
Tuesday, September 22, 2015
PSA: So You Think You Met A Fuckboy?
Dear GG Fam:
Have you or one of your squad fallen victim to a Fuckboy? Do you think you or someone you know may be vulnerable to Fuckboys? Did you wake up this morning, and say to yourself, "Self, I think I just fucked a Fuckboy?"
Do not fret, my pretty, because it is not your fault. If you or one of your homegirls has been or is currently being fucked on by a Fuckboy, it is because Fuckboys are replicating at a rate faster than that of chlamydia during spring break. You see, before, you could tell a Fuckboy from a first glance - his Affliction shirt, day-glo orange tan, car that overcompensated for a small penis - the obvious Fuckboy give-aways. But today's Fuckboy has become faster, swifter, cleverer (but not really) and all-around, fuckier. Today's Fuckboy has a certain way of getting past Fuckboy radars of yore. Or women, as a whole, are getting dumber. I am going to go with what is behind door number 1, Bob.
I will admit, I have seen some Fuckboy fuckery firsthand, and will now breakdown some of the more common species of homofuckboyious, more commonly known as "Fuckboy."
1) The Married-Man-Fuckboy:
This is the Fuckboy who is currently explaining to his wife why he has an Ashely Madison Account and his browser history is full of a website called backpage.com. Because trolling for strange punnany on Craigslist is so circa Fuckboy 2010. No, this Fuckboy thought he was going to have his cake and eat it, too, but that Ashley Madison tricked more Married-Man-Fuckboys than Thai LadyBoi in Vietnam into them thinking they had their Fuckboy game on point. However, now that the Ashley Madison spot has been blown up, I think we are going to see a The Married-Man-Fuckboy kick it old school. With the advent of the internet, we saw a downslide of skeezy men in bars, hitting on unsuspecting women, with obvious wedding ring tans and game so smooth, Billy Dee was getting the vapors in his no-no parts. Beware of The Married-Man-Fuckboy, and all of his "my wife just doesn't understand me like you do" bullshit game. And remember, Fuckboys, ain't shit, like bitches, hoes, and tricks. Ba-LEED-dat.
This is the Fuckboy who is currently explaining to his wife why he has an Ashely Madison Account and his browser history is full of a website called backpage.com. Because trolling for strange punnany on Craigslist is so circa Fuckboy 2010. No, this Fuckboy thought he was going to have his cake and eat it, too, but that Ashley Madison tricked more Married-Man-Fuckboys than Thai LadyBoi in Vietnam into them thinking they had their Fuckboy game on point. However, now that the Ashley Madison spot has been blown up, I think we are going to see a The Married-Man-Fuckboy kick it old school. With the advent of the internet, we saw a downslide of skeezy men in bars, hitting on unsuspecting women, with obvious wedding ring tans and game so smooth, Billy Dee was getting the vapors in his no-no parts. Beware of The Married-Man-Fuckboy, and all of his "my wife just doesn't understand me like you do" bullshit game. And remember, Fuckboys, ain't shit, like bitches, hoes, and tricks. Ba-LEED-dat.
2) The Convenience Fuckboy:
Did you change your name to 7-11? No? Hmmmmm. Well, this type of Fuckboy is under the impression that you are there for his convenience and amusement. The real shittery of this Fuckboy is that this one isn't always about sex/dating. Maybe this Fuckboy thinks you may be attracted to them, so they, in all their Fuckboy bullshit ways, figure out a way to manipulate that to their gain. This Fuckboy usually also suffers from another disease, called hand-to-pocket disease. Are they down on their luck and need a good friend "to help them until they get back on their feet" or some other such monkey-mouth-bullshit? This Fuckboy is almost the worst of all (but wait, you will meet the worst soon), because they know all the right buttons to push to get you to buy them dinner, take them to concerts, wine them, dine them, but ain't no one 69-ing no one. Take this simple, one question "is this a Convenience Fuckboy" test: when you ask Fuckboy to hang out, do they always have some excuse or fuckery in their life, but when they want something from you, they call/text non-stop, until you breakdown and give into whatever it is they are wanting to do, but just don't seem to have the funds, a ride, or anyone that actually wants to hang out with their Fuckboy ass? You know the answer, sister girl. Rule numero uno: Fuck bitches, get money. NOT Fuckboys fucking on bitches and getting money, rides, dinner, movies, etc. If they want to treat your ass like an amusement park, charge that Fuckboy admission. Change your name to Busch Gardens. Stop shaving your pubes. Go fucking nuts. But, don't get tried by a Fuckboy anymore.
Did you change your name to 7-11? No? Hmmmmm. Well, this type of Fuckboy is under the impression that you are there for his convenience and amusement. The real shittery of this Fuckboy is that this one isn't always about sex/dating. Maybe this Fuckboy thinks you may be attracted to them, so they, in all their Fuckboy bullshit ways, figure out a way to manipulate that to their gain. This Fuckboy usually also suffers from another disease, called hand-to-pocket disease. Are they down on their luck and need a good friend "to help them until they get back on their feet" or some other such monkey-mouth-bullshit? This Fuckboy is almost the worst of all (but wait, you will meet the worst soon), because they know all the right buttons to push to get you to buy them dinner, take them to concerts, wine them, dine them, but ain't no one 69-ing no one. Take this simple, one question "is this a Convenience Fuckboy" test: when you ask Fuckboy to hang out, do they always have some excuse or fuckery in their life, but when they want something from you, they call/text non-stop, until you breakdown and give into whatever it is they are wanting to do, but just don't seem to have the funds, a ride, or anyone that actually wants to hang out with their Fuckboy ass? You know the answer, sister girl. Rule numero uno: Fuck bitches, get money. NOT Fuckboys fucking on bitches and getting money, rides, dinner, movies, etc. If they want to treat your ass like an amusement park, charge that Fuckboy admission. Change your name to Busch Gardens. Stop shaving your pubes. Go fucking nuts. But, don't get tried by a Fuckboy anymore.
3) The Zero-Fucks-Given-Fuckboy:
You must be so careful of this one, because the Fuckboy is so strong in them, they actually don't have any fucks to give, or so they would like you to believe. The Zero-Fucks-Given-Fuckboy is a borderline narcissist, if not a complete narcissist; that is another reason why you have to be uber-careful with their trickery and devil-penis-sorcery. They will lead you down a path of roses and sunshine, making you believe that they are in it to win it, and saying and doing all the Fuckboy Shit to make you think they are, on some level, picking up what you are throwing down. Then, as fast as you can say "abra-ca-Fuckboy" they pull one of their zero fucks out of their messenger bag of bullshit (because you know this Fuckboy is probably a hipster, on some level) and ghost your unknowing ass. And you say to yourself, "Self, did I just get played like the Ravens did by Oakland last Sunday, by this Fuckboy?" Now, here is where this Fuckboy gets their name. This kinda Fuckass-Fuckboy-Bitchface McGee earned his rep as the Fuckboy of Zero Fucks, because he will ghost your ass and then do some nefarious fuckery, like tryna get with one of your homegirls. He will give Zero Fucks that he is tryna kick game, and poorly, with your mothafucking bestie from the jump. He will pay no mind to the fact that he KNOWS that your ride-or-die bitch is going to send you screen shots of your conversations, and he will KNOW that she knows that you know that he knows he is spitting the SAME.EXACT.GAME to her. Because this motherfucker gives what? ZERO FUCKS. You almost have to admire his tenacity in being a Fuckboy. Nahhhhhhhhhhh. Fuck this Fuckboy, right in his Fuckboy dumper.
You must be so careful of this one, because the Fuckboy is so strong in them, they actually don't have any fucks to give, or so they would like you to believe. The Zero-Fucks-Given-Fuckboy is a borderline narcissist, if not a complete narcissist; that is another reason why you have to be uber-careful with their trickery and devil-penis-sorcery. They will lead you down a path of roses and sunshine, making you believe that they are in it to win it, and saying and doing all the Fuckboy Shit to make you think they are, on some level, picking up what you are throwing down. Then, as fast as you can say "abra-ca-Fuckboy" they pull one of their zero fucks out of their messenger bag of bullshit (because you know this Fuckboy is probably a hipster, on some level) and ghost your unknowing ass. And you say to yourself, "Self, did I just get played like the Ravens did by Oakland last Sunday, by this Fuckboy?" Now, here is where this Fuckboy gets their name. This kinda Fuckass-Fuckboy-Bitchface McGee earned his rep as the Fuckboy of Zero Fucks, because he will ghost your ass and then do some nefarious fuckery, like tryna get with one of your homegirls. He will give Zero Fucks that he is tryna kick game, and poorly, with your mothafucking bestie from the jump. He will pay no mind to the fact that he KNOWS that your ride-or-die bitch is going to send you screen shots of your conversations, and he will KNOW that she knows that you know that he knows he is spitting the SAME.EXACT.GAME to her. Because this motherfucker gives what? ZERO FUCKS. You almost have to admire his tenacity in being a Fuckboy. Nahhhhhhhhhhh. Fuck this Fuckboy, right in his Fuckboy dumper.
4) The Back-and-Forth-Fuckboy:
Oh, this Fuckboy. This motherfucking Fuckboy. This is the worst of the worst. If the 3 aforementioned Fuckboys got together for a circle jerk in hell, and by some sort of slut magic produced a baby, it would be this Fuckboy. This guy, because he is not really a Fuckboy at first, doesn't even know he is playing games and dipping his toes in the pool of Fuckboy. Y'all meet, you hit it off, you start a thing - dating, fucking, beastiality (I don't know your life), and then shit starts to get real. And that is where Mr. Nice-Guy becomes The Fuckboy of all Fuckboys. He likes you, but he is not ready. He still has feelings for his ex, but you know, he is feeling you. He wants to be single, but he LOVES spending time with you. He likes you, but just can't do another long distance relationship (but will hang out, fuck you like it is his job and he is picking up a paycheck on Friday, and still tell you he adores you). He got baby momma drama, so he gotta keep you on the DL. I can keep going, but you get it. I get it. We all have gotten this or some sort of foolery equivalent to this before. You want to like this Fuckboy, too, but at the end of the day, if he is spitting this kind of foolishness your way, HE IS A FUCKBOY. The end.
Oh, this Fuckboy. This motherfucking Fuckboy. This is the worst of the worst. If the 3 aforementioned Fuckboys got together for a circle jerk in hell, and by some sort of slut magic produced a baby, it would be this Fuckboy. This guy, because he is not really a Fuckboy at first, doesn't even know he is playing games and dipping his toes in the pool of Fuckboy. Y'all meet, you hit it off, you start a thing - dating, fucking, beastiality (I don't know your life), and then shit starts to get real. And that is where Mr. Nice-Guy becomes The Fuckboy of all Fuckboys. He likes you, but he is not ready. He still has feelings for his ex, but you know, he is feeling you. He wants to be single, but he LOVES spending time with you. He likes you, but just can't do another long distance relationship (but will hang out, fuck you like it is his job and he is picking up a paycheck on Friday, and still tell you he adores you). He got baby momma drama, so he gotta keep you on the DL. I can keep going, but you get it. I get it. We all have gotten this or some sort of foolery equivalent to this before. You want to like this Fuckboy, too, but at the end of the day, if he is spitting this kind of foolishness your way, HE IS A FUCKBOY. The end.
I know, you are probably wondering how I know so much about Fuckboys? Well, you see dear heart, I am a Fuckboy magnet. Most of these scenarios mentioned above are ones that I have experienced or witnessed first hand. So, please, take what you have read to heart, and when you see the tiniest glimmer of Fuckboy beginning to rear its fugliness, you can pick up your Michael Kors tote and beat that Fuckboy within an inch of his life. Whatever you do, do not fall prey to his Devil-Magic-Fuckboy ways. There is not enough Rose and weed for those broken hearts. Trust me.
I would drop the mic here, but instead I am going to swing it and see how many Fuckboys I can knock out with it.
XO
H-Bomb
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
What The Fuck Were You Thinking When You Got Dressed This Morning Vol. 3: The Spring Music Festival Edition
There is really not much I love more than getting white girl wasted, while swaying (fuck you, box wine, FUCK YOU) to my favorite jams, with my favorite people. Thank fucking HAY-ZEUS I happen to live in South Florida and one of my favorite peeps just also happens to be a marketing director for one of those fancy-as-fuck companies that puts on big shows. No more blowing dudes for .38 Special tickets under the 595 overpass for me! I get to see awesome bands, from good seats, pretty much on the regular. Being H-Bomb has its advantages.
However, there is a major fucking disadvantage to all of these awesome concerts. For many years, there has been either a significant lack of full length mirrors or a significant decline in bitches who keep it real when their friend asks, "Does this outfit make me look like a busted can of biscuits?" Either way, I have spent the last few years not-so-silently suffering from the fashion crimes against humanity that these bitches inflict upon me whence I am out with my crew listening to music, getting crunk-face and watching a 2 day montage of, "What not to Wear: The Bottomed Out Edition."
The fashion fox passes (faux pas, for you Downton Abby bitches) I saw this past weekend were mostly a collection of fat girls in clothes I wouldn't have worn when I was actually a size 2, in addition to girls in shorts so far up their chochas, my vag hurt looking at them.
I really need to know who-in-the-1990's-fashion-hell decided to bring back the mom-jeans and more importantly, the mom-jean-shorts. No really, I bet some sadistic motherfucker at Urban Outfitters decided to have a laugh at the expense of all the dumb twats who will buy anything if it looks like it was actually from Goodwill and possibly was in a Joey Lawrence video. I am a child of the 90's. Floppy hats? I rocked them shits. Z Cavariccis? You bet your fucking coochie-lable-tag I had those. Knee High Socks? More like thigh highs on my borderline midget ass. And most of those things have come back in style, much to my chagrin, but none so much as the goddamn mom jeans. I did my time in high-waisted-mom-jean hell and I am all set now, thanks. And just in case any one dared to question just how much of a 90's Fashion Icon I am, I submit to exhibit A. Suck it, Trebek.
No one loves the 90's more than this bitch. Trust. Any Saturday/Sunday that I can bogart some cable and watch 90210 reruns on The Soap Network, you had better believe I am watching that mess. The hair! The Fashion! The Drama! I am all about it. If I was 20 years younger, and this was the style, I would be all over it like I am on your mom on $2 Jaeger night. But I am not, so I wear my fly as fuck outfits from Ann Taylor Loft and The Gap, and I sit back and watch these bitches who have no idea that there was an original 90210 rocking the same shit I did 20 years ago.
However, there is a major fucking disadvantage to all of these awesome concerts. For many years, there has been either a significant lack of full length mirrors or a significant decline in bitches who keep it real when their friend asks, "Does this outfit make me look like a busted can of biscuits?" Either way, I have spent the last few years not-so-silently suffering from the fashion crimes against humanity that these bitches inflict upon me whence I am out with my crew listening to music, getting crunk-face and watching a 2 day montage of, "What not to Wear: The Bottomed Out Edition."
The fashion fox passes (faux pas, for you Downton Abby bitches) I saw this past weekend were mostly a collection of fat girls in clothes I wouldn't have worn when I was actually a size 2, in addition to girls in shorts so far up their chochas, my vag hurt looking at them.
I really need to know who-in-the-1990's-fashion-hell decided to bring back the mom-jeans and more importantly, the mom-jean-shorts. No really, I bet some sadistic motherfucker at Urban Outfitters decided to have a laugh at the expense of all the dumb twats who will buy anything if it looks like it was actually from Goodwill and possibly was in a Joey Lawrence video. I am a child of the 90's. Floppy hats? I rocked them shits. Z Cavariccis? You bet your fucking coochie-lable-tag I had those. Knee High Socks? More like thigh highs on my borderline midget ass. And most of those things have come back in style, much to my chagrin, but none so much as the goddamn mom jeans. I did my time in high-waisted-mom-jean hell and I am all set now, thanks. And just in case any one dared to question just how much of a 90's Fashion Icon I am, I submit to exhibit A. Suck it, Trebek.
 |
| 1990's H-Bomb. Sweet perm, stylin' vest, and some acid wash mom jeans |
This past weekend, I went to a 2-Day festival at the beach. I knew I was gonna see some shit that would make me feel hella old, but I was hella stoked because I was going with some awesome chicks, to drink drinks and jam out with our clams out. But not literally. However, some chicks missed the memo about keeping your kibbles and bits in your clothes, because bitches were literally "bottoming out" of their mom-jean-shorts. I give you example B.
Mos Def said, "Ass so fat, you could see it from the front." NOT, "Ass so fat, you can see it from the bottom of your shorts." I was almost drunk enough to go up and try to pull her jeans out of her cookie, because my cookie was feeling sympathy for hers, but I didn't want to catch a case over some broad in shorts that probably looked like she was peeling apart a grilled cheese when she took them off. Fuck. That. Shit.
And don't think I am hating on chicks for wearing busted ass shorts, because they are skinnier than me. I was also snapping pics of bikini-clad-bottoms and sending them to my friends to show off chicks who had all the business in the world wearing that itsy-bitsy-bikini. I love a good ass, especially in a bikini. I do not like to look at an ass that looks like it has been in a panini press all day.
The other issue I had with the chicks this weekend were the ones that didn't understand that not every fashion trend is for them. I am not a skinny chick. I rock between a size 10-12 on a good day, but the difference between them and me, is that I know it. I dress for what looks good on my frame, not what looks good on a 6'2" vietnamese size 2 mannequin at Forever 21. And if these chicks feel great rocking their outfit, good-for-fucking-them. But guess what? I am pretty sure many of us don't want to be subjected to your flabalanche hanging over your shorts or watching your cottage cheese sizzle in the Florida sun. I give you exhibits C and D:
Just because you can get into a size 4 or an itsy-bitsy-bikini, doesn't mean you should wear it out. Ever. And to these girl's friends: shame on you for wanting her to look like a sea-beast in a bikini so you could look better. SHAME THE FUCK ON YOU for not pulling her aside and saying, "Boo, you think maybe you want to put on some shorts that might fit a weensy bit better or maybe don't borrow my bottoms?" You are not being mean by gently letting your friend know that she looks like a condom filled with mayonnaise. Ok, maybe don't use my exact phrase, but feel free to use the Cliff's Notes version. No really, feel fucking free to let a bitch know what is up. Ain't nobody got time to look like 10 lbs of crazy in a 5 lb bag. Ba-leed-dat.
Besides being too fat to breathe in your shorts, too big for the junior section bikini, or having an ass that looked like someone squeezed the wrong end of the toothpaste, the other thing I saw a lot of this weekend was, what I like to call, the "kitchen sink" look. Where you take a bunch of different clothes and accessories and put them all on at once. I get that is fucking called "layering." I still hate it. Why the fuck do you want to look like a homeless person who has to wear all their clothes at once because they have nowhere to store them? The irony of this outfit is that it supposed to look so effortless and carefree, like, "Oh, look at how whimsical I am, I just put on whatever is in the closet, matching be damned." Fuck you in the field where you think you live, wannabe-woodland creature. You spend more time trying to look like you spent no time putting together an outfit than I do looking like I turned the lights on when I got ready - and I had time to shave my beaver, because if you are going to wear shorts where your punanni hangs out, you had better have tamed your bush. I saw this chick when I was watching Train and felt like I wanted to run a train... on her outfit. I present to you, Exhibit E:
I call this ensemble: Fanny Packs Across 'Murica! Now, I own a fanny-pack. It's Gucci. For years everyone said that my fanny pack was wretched and my argument was and always will be, "IT'S FUCKING GUCCI, BITCH."My fanny pack is the epitome of grace and elegance and usually filled with fine booze. Not Molly, generic cigarettes, my sister's fake I.D., and broken promises. And for fucks sake, the "overjorts" are almost as bad as the mom-jeans. If the only farming you have done is just straight up being a hoe, then do you really think that overjorts are the look for you? At least she had both straps snapped. ThankfuckingGod.
I know, I probably sound like a crotchety old hag, and I honestly could care less about that than your brother after I bang him. I had to make mention of this shit because it seems like the older I get, the uglier clothing gets. And I know, some of yous guys are saying, "Well, isn't that what your mom said?" And the answer to that is NO. Phyllis was pretty fashion forward, because I was fashion forward. In my pic from my High School graduation, she is wearing a dress that she borrowed from me. Covered in daisies, because like I said, I am the ultimate 90's bitch.
Good fashion is timeless, trends and fads are just that - trends and fads. I thank my lucky stars there was no Facehole when I was growing up, mostly because of the slutty/drunk things I did back then, but more because of all the busted-ass outfits I wore. And OG's mullet. Which was pretty fucking sweet.
And just to show you all that I am not hating on the youngins because I am jelly school, I will leave you with these parting pictures, to cleanse your eyes from all the aforementioned fashion fuckery. You are are very fucking welcome.
Azzzzzzzzzz N Titties. And Big Booty Bitches.
H-Bomb
Monday, January 14, 2013
Monday, April 2, 2012
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Monday, March 21, 2011
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Saturday BART Ride
It's amazing the people you encounter when riding BART on a Saturday morning. The people that surrounded me on my way back from the city to the East Bay made me wonder how on earth could a man and woman create these special individuals. For instance, the lady sitting in front me. It looked like her hair was made out of yarn, construction paper and hay. Now how that looks is exactly how I described it. Yeah, pretty fucked up, right? The shit didn't move and the texture was breathtaking. So amazing.
Up next, we have the sleeper. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would ever see one individual, sleeping with half their body in a seat while the other half was levitating in the aisle way. It was like I had a free fucking magic show on BART. And as a special treat, he was sleep talking. Levitating + Sleep Talking for 30 minutes = A-MAY-ZING!
Our third and fourth special riders were huge fans of hip-hop. How do I know? Well, by how high the fucking volume was turned up on their IPods, two cities away could hear what they were listening to. Yeah, it was that fucking loud. I was at least 20 feet away from both of them and I could hear two different songs going on at the same time. The guy sporting Ecko Unlimited looked as if his brain might explode. Really. If he were to turn the volume up any higher, his head would burst into musical fucking notes and Kanye West would pop out and give us a free concert on public transportation.
Our other hip-hop fan was much different. This fan was a female and what I examined from her was interesting. The more she was "feeling the music" the harder she was chewing the gum in her mouth. It almost looked as if she was blowing a cock that was made out of steel or titanium. It really looked like that. I've never seen someone go to town on a single piece of Double Mint gum in such an aggressive way that it resembled her giving head to Robo Cock. What also was amazing was the way she moved her body. I felt like I was at a strip club on wheels. A free show with a chick fully clothed giving the fans oral gestures of how she sucks the dong. It made my eyes water.
Four people. Totally different. Very Interesting. That's what I saw, that's what I examined. Nothing made my ride more entertaining. Until...
It's not what I saw, but it's what I heard. A young lady talking to what seemed to be a man that gives her money. At this point, it doesn't really matter if it was a boyfriend, lover, fuck mate, husband, dad or grandpa...it was someone that helped her out with funds.
"My math book costs me $300 for next semester, that's why I took out that extra money." Look, I attended one of the best University's in the country. Sure it took me five fucking years but I got a degree. During that time, I never...ever, ever, EVER paid $300 for one fucking book. EVER! Now I overhear this chick that is attending a Junior College (saw a back pack she was sporting), talking about paying $300 for a math book. A fucking math book?! What's worse is that this is a math book that is for a Junior College class. A two-year college. TWO.YEAR.COLLEGE. A place where you go to get your GED completed. If I'm paying $300 for a damn math book, that shit better have equations on how to build a fucking spaceship and a goddamn teleportation device. That's what that shit better have. Maybe even some codes on how to hack into the fucking Pentagon. $300?! You fucking serious?
I was baffled when I heard this and almost choked on my tongue. Who was she trying to fool? Shit, whoever it was, she fooled them pretty damn good.
Saturday BART rides. Everyone should go sometime. If you do, hit me up...we can make a day out of it.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Best of Craigslist
All I have to say is...WOW! Oh, and miss, you numbered your bullet points incorrectly. Enjoy.
Just fucking fuck me, already.
Date: 2008-02-03, 3:29PM PST
Dear Men of Craigslist,
Look, I know you men have it difficult. Women are just about impossible to understand, much less please. In a post-feminist society, you never know exactly what you should be doing. Women are bloody picky, I know we are. It can be scary, too, when women freak out about what appear to be benign issues. And men who do their best to be respectful, female-positive humans, I salute you, I do.
But please, please just fuck me already. Honestly, I appreciate your thoughtfulness. I like that you want to take things slow. I can totally get behind the idea of emotional connection, but dearjesusinheaven, FUCK ME. We've done dinner and drinks. We've gone dancing. We've cuddled and watched a movie. I'm wearing a low cut shirt and you've been staring at my breasts all night. Goodgodalmighty, get to it and fuck me.
When we get hot and heavy, please take charge. Please, please fuck me. Trust me, I'm not going to just lie still - I'll get involved. But don't make me force your hand into my panties. That makes me feel like a rapist. We've been kissing for a half hour and your hand keeps grazing my ass. That's nice, but it's time to move forward. Get on top of me. Don't make me get on top right out of the gate and start bobbing up and down on your cock like I'm practicing some crazy new aerobic yoga because YOU won't go down on me. Roll on top and start dry humping like a good boy should. Don't gently suck my nipples and then pull back when I moan with pleasure. You being coy is totally not what I want. It's not what WE want.
OK, I know it's scary. There are lots of women out there who make fucking really difficult. So, I have compiled some handy tips. Don't think of this as complaining, or as schadenfreude for the Andrea Dworkins of the world. Just some simple tips, for timid men who have forgotten what it means to fuck like men:
1. Taking charge is not bad. Oh, there will be some women who feel that you are pushy. If you are making out with a woman, and she starts to push back, ask nicely if things are moving too fast. If she says yes, say something like "I'm sorry - you just look so fucking delicious. I'll go slower." Otherwise, skillfully move forward. If you start kissing a woman, and she responds well, and before long, you're both on the floor with her skirt pushed up, and you on top of her, it's not the time to roll onto your back and start awkwardly stroking the top of her head. Seriously, grow a goddamn pair. YOU'RE the man. Act like one.
2. Ohmyfuckinggod, please learn to respect the clit. It's different for every woman, so ask what she likes. Do not, I repeat, do not just wiggle your fingers around her pussy like you're trying to tickle her. Do not drum your fingertips against her vulva like you are impatiently waiting at the Sears Tire Center for your receipt. Do not push the clit like it is a doorbell at some house that you need to get inside of. Start by using all four fingers with firm yet gentle pressure against the outside of her pussy. Do not charge in with a single finger and start jabbing at things. And if you really don't know what to do, ask her. Just ask. "How do you like it?". It's a simple question, and most women will answer straight out. If she's being all coy, ask "Do you like pressure? Is it sensitive?" The clitoris is a varied item, indeed. Treat each one as though you have never encountered one before. Forget everything that your last partner liked.
3. Most women like to be fucked, and fucked well. Yes, there are women out there who want to "make love" every time - sweet, gentle, rocking love with lots of eye contact and loving kisses. Those women are not the majority. The majority like to be pounded. The majority like to have their hair pulled. The majority like a good, solid jackhammering. When a woman is bucking wildly against you, it's not because she wants you to pull back and slowly swirl your cock around her vagina like you're mixing a cake batter up there. It's because she wants you to hold down her arms, or grab her hips, or push her legs above her head, and fuck her harder. Don't be too afraid of what this means as far as gender equality goes - I am a raging feminist bitch, but I still want to be penetrated like you are planning on fucking my throat from the inside out.
4. A little roughness is nice. Do not pretend that you had no idea that some women like their hair pulled. Do not act shocked if she wants you to spank her ("Really? Spanking? Won't it hurt?" - yes, it does. That's the fucking point). We know you've read Stuff and Maxim, and that's all those laddie mags talk about in their "How to Please Her" sections. Start with light, full handed smacks to the area of her ass that she sits on. Judge her response and continue on from there. You don't have to bend her over one knee and tell her she's a naughty girl and that Daddy's going to punish her; save that for the fifth date. Women are less delicate than you think, so don't worry about breaking her hip.
5. It's OK for you to make noise. Otherwise, we feel like we are fucking a ninja. Unless you actually are a ninja, and have sneaked into our rooms with vibrating nanuchaku and zippered black pajamas, please, please make some noise. If you're banging a woman, and she's crying out and saying your name and moaning, and you can't even manage a grunt, she's going to feel like an idiot. You don't have to make the sounds she is making, but do SOMETHING. You know how when you are watching porn, and the girl does something great to the guy and the guy kind of goes "Ah!", half grunt, half yell? That's HOT. Do that. Whisper our name (assuming you know it) gruffly. Groan against her neck when you're in missionary position. You don't have to grunt like a mountain gorilla, but if you are totally mute, she's going to get worried.
6. Most women like dirty talk, in addition to the grunting. If you'd like to get some dirty talk going, ask her if she likes the way you fuck her. If she responds well, continue with something like, "I love fucking you. God, you look so fucking hot." Is she still moaning in response? "Your tits are so beautiful." Does that work? If she doesn't respond well to the term "tits", you might have to stop there. If she keep moaning or responding, pass Go and collect $200. Try the following:
"Oh, god. Your pussy is SO tight."
"You're so wet - are you wet because you like the feel of my cock ramming you?"
"I think I'm going to come inside you. I'm going to fill up your little cunt." It doesn't matter that you're wearing a condom; we LOVE hearing this.
If all of those work, you can then progress to things like "sexy little bitch" and "dirty whore". Tread carefully, but please, tread. Do not tiptoe. Do not sit down. Charge.
6. You're not obligated to eat a woman out. In return, she's not obligated to choke on your dick. Don't skip one and expect the other. If you do eat a woman out, the only comment you should make about her pussy is how nice it is. The length of her labia minora, the color of her interior, her waxing job or full bush - you are not John Madden. No time for color commentary.
7. Do not bitch about condoms. Oh, we hate them. Trust us. They hurt us more than they hurt you. But we don't want to be preggers, and you don't want to catch anything, right? Don't whine about condom sex. Do not explain that you can't come with one on. LEARN to come with one on, or if not, help us figure out what to do with you once we're satisfied and it's time for you to let loose your load.
8. We really like it when you come. It's called a money shot for a reason. Watching semen shoot out of you is one of the most gratifying things EVER. However, do not assume that she wants you to jack it off onto her face. She might, but don't assume. Seeing and/or feeling you come is rewarding for us, so there's no need to deprive us of it, but please do consult us before unleashing. "I think I'm going to come - how do you like it?" is a fair question that shouldn't rob you of your testicles.
In recent memory, I've been fucked by a very aggressive, manly guy, and I've been... well, fucked is the wrong term here. I've been penetrated by a total and utter wuss. Who am I going to run back to when I'm ready for my fill? Manly McHardon, that's who.
Look, I know you men have it difficult. Women are just about impossible to understand, much less please. In a post-feminist society, you never know exactly what you should be doing. Women are bloody picky, I know we are. It can be scary, too, when women freak out about what appear to be benign issues. And men who do their best to be respectful, female-positive humans, I salute you, I do.
But please, please just fuck me already. Honestly, I appreciate your thoughtfulness. I like that you want to take things slow. I can totally get behind the idea of emotional connection, but dearjesusinheaven, FUCK ME. We've done dinner and drinks. We've gone dancing. We've cuddled and watched a movie. I'm wearing a low cut shirt and you've been staring at my breasts all night. Goodgodalmighty, get to it and fuck me.
When we get hot and heavy, please take charge. Please, please fuck me. Trust me, I'm not going to just lie still - I'll get involved. But don't make me force your hand into my panties. That makes me feel like a rapist. We've been kissing for a half hour and your hand keeps grazing my ass. That's nice, but it's time to move forward. Get on top of me. Don't make me get on top right out of the gate and start bobbing up and down on your cock like I'm practicing some crazy new aerobic yoga because YOU won't go down on me. Roll on top and start dry humping like a good boy should. Don't gently suck my nipples and then pull back when I moan with pleasure. You being coy is totally not what I want. It's not what WE want.
OK, I know it's scary. There are lots of women out there who make fucking really difficult. So, I have compiled some handy tips. Don't think of this as complaining, or as schadenfreude for the Andrea Dworkins of the world. Just some simple tips, for timid men who have forgotten what it means to fuck like men:
1. Taking charge is not bad. Oh, there will be some women who feel that you are pushy. If you are making out with a woman, and she starts to push back, ask nicely if things are moving too fast. If she says yes, say something like "I'm sorry - you just look so fucking delicious. I'll go slower." Otherwise, skillfully move forward. If you start kissing a woman, and she responds well, and before long, you're both on the floor with her skirt pushed up, and you on top of her, it's not the time to roll onto your back and start awkwardly stroking the top of her head. Seriously, grow a goddamn pair. YOU'RE the man. Act like one.
2. Ohmyfuckinggod, please learn to respect the clit. It's different for every woman, so ask what she likes. Do not, I repeat, do not just wiggle your fingers around her pussy like you're trying to tickle her. Do not drum your fingertips against her vulva like you are impatiently waiting at the Sears Tire Center for your receipt. Do not push the clit like it is a doorbell at some house that you need to get inside of. Start by using all four fingers with firm yet gentle pressure against the outside of her pussy. Do not charge in with a single finger and start jabbing at things. And if you really don't know what to do, ask her. Just ask. "How do you like it?". It's a simple question, and most women will answer straight out. If she's being all coy, ask "Do you like pressure? Is it sensitive?" The clitoris is a varied item, indeed. Treat each one as though you have never encountered one before. Forget everything that your last partner liked.
3. Most women like to be fucked, and fucked well. Yes, there are women out there who want to "make love" every time - sweet, gentle, rocking love with lots of eye contact and loving kisses. Those women are not the majority. The majority like to be pounded. The majority like to have their hair pulled. The majority like a good, solid jackhammering. When a woman is bucking wildly against you, it's not because she wants you to pull back and slowly swirl your cock around her vagina like you're mixing a cake batter up there. It's because she wants you to hold down her arms, or grab her hips, or push her legs above her head, and fuck her harder. Don't be too afraid of what this means as far as gender equality goes - I am a raging feminist bitch, but I still want to be penetrated like you are planning on fucking my throat from the inside out.
4. A little roughness is nice. Do not pretend that you had no idea that some women like their hair pulled. Do not act shocked if she wants you to spank her ("Really? Spanking? Won't it hurt?" - yes, it does. That's the fucking point). We know you've read Stuff and Maxim, and that's all those laddie mags talk about in their "How to Please Her" sections. Start with light, full handed smacks to the area of her ass that she sits on. Judge her response and continue on from there. You don't have to bend her over one knee and tell her she's a naughty girl and that Daddy's going to punish her; save that for the fifth date. Women are less delicate than you think, so don't worry about breaking her hip.
5. It's OK for you to make noise. Otherwise, we feel like we are fucking a ninja. Unless you actually are a ninja, and have sneaked into our rooms with vibrating nanuchaku and zippered black pajamas, please, please make some noise. If you're banging a woman, and she's crying out and saying your name and moaning, and you can't even manage a grunt, she's going to feel like an idiot. You don't have to make the sounds she is making, but do SOMETHING. You know how when you are watching porn, and the girl does something great to the guy and the guy kind of goes "Ah!", half grunt, half yell? That's HOT. Do that. Whisper our name (assuming you know it) gruffly. Groan against her neck when you're in missionary position. You don't have to grunt like a mountain gorilla, but if you are totally mute, she's going to get worried.
6. Most women like dirty talk, in addition to the grunting. If you'd like to get some dirty talk going, ask her if she likes the way you fuck her. If she responds well, continue with something like, "I love fucking you. God, you look so fucking hot." Is she still moaning in response? "Your tits are so beautiful." Does that work? If she doesn't respond well to the term "tits", you might have to stop there. If she keep moaning or responding, pass Go and collect $200. Try the following:
"Oh, god. Your pussy is SO tight."
"You're so wet - are you wet because you like the feel of my cock ramming you?"
"I think I'm going to come inside you. I'm going to fill up your little cunt." It doesn't matter that you're wearing a condom; we LOVE hearing this.
If all of those work, you can then progress to things like "sexy little bitch" and "dirty whore". Tread carefully, but please, tread. Do not tiptoe. Do not sit down. Charge.
6. You're not obligated to eat a woman out. In return, she's not obligated to choke on your dick. Don't skip one and expect the other. If you do eat a woman out, the only comment you should make about her pussy is how nice it is. The length of her labia minora, the color of her interior, her waxing job or full bush - you are not John Madden. No time for color commentary.
7. Do not bitch about condoms. Oh, we hate them. Trust us. They hurt us more than they hurt you. But we don't want to be preggers, and you don't want to catch anything, right? Don't whine about condom sex. Do not explain that you can't come with one on. LEARN to come with one on, or if not, help us figure out what to do with you once we're satisfied and it's time for you to let loose your load.
8. We really like it when you come. It's called a money shot for a reason. Watching semen shoot out of you is one of the most gratifying things EVER. However, do not assume that she wants you to jack it off onto her face. She might, but don't assume. Seeing and/or feeling you come is rewarding for us, so there's no need to deprive us of it, but please do consult us before unleashing. "I think I'm going to come - how do you like it?" is a fair question that shouldn't rob you of your testicles.
In recent memory, I've been fucked by a very aggressive, manly guy, and I've been... well, fucked is the wrong term here. I've been penetrated by a total and utter wuss. Who am I going to run back to when I'm ready for my fill? Manly McHardon, that's who.
*New point of clarification - some people have brought up some really great issues in response to this post, so let me say this: I don't mean to imply that all women like to be treated like whores. I do mean to say that most women I know have told me that they like sex rougher than most men give it to them. Rough does NOT equal chains and bondage. And this applies to the bedroom only, and does not mean that she wants you to choose her dinner for her, or treat her like less of a person. **Some women have said that they don't like it rough and what the hell am I thinking? Well, girls, you're in the minority. HOWEVER, all women need to remember that, in addition to be straight forward about your sexual desires, you need to be straight forward about your sexual limits. Don't be afraid to ask for more, but when something feels wrong, say so. Don't ever do something you don't want to do in silence and then blame the guy. Silence is dangerous.
- Location: Seattle
- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
PostingID: 561877622
Monday, December 6, 2010
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Flash, don't Flush
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| Show me some titties! |
On our way to Sonora for Thanksgiving, we stopped by a gas station in Oakdale to take a leak. Thought it would be appropriate to take a picture of this awesome bathroom signage.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Monday, November 22, 2010
Notes of the Day
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| Who fucking wrote this? Yoda? |
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| I was told this note was left on Father Joe's car at St. Augustine's church last Sunday. |
Friday, November 19, 2010
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