do me a favor. don’t say nothin’. just stand there ‘til i leave. i wanna remember this.
“
| — | the wackness. damn. |
ireland
have shacked up with a bookie named benny. his nose has been broken 9 times, and when he comes, it’s in gaelic.
perfection.
trainspotting.
am 20 minutes into trainspotting. ewan mcgregor. full frontal.
why didn’t anyone alert me to this earlier?
now i gotta change my drawers.
I don’t have any money if that’s what you’re after. And I’m not one of those girls that does weird stuff in bed because they think they have to. If you’re a gay guy looking for a beard, I don’t do that anymore. And if you’re trying to harvest my organs and sell them, I have an uncle who’s a cop so don’t even try it.
“
| — | Liz Lemon |
at the bar tonight.
“i can’t help it if i’m attracted to you.”
“didn’t you have a girlfriend two days ago?”
“not anymore.”
“still….too recently for my comfort level.”
“you know what? there are a ton of girls who would love to go out with me.”
“…so go out with them.”
“unfortunately, i’m attracted to you.”
“that must be really hard on you.”
“not really. i’m not the one who’s missing out.”
“man, i’m dying to go out with you NOW.”
“you know what i think?”
“no.”
“i think you are way to used to dudes telling you that you are beautiful.”
“you know what i think?”
“what?”
“i am way too used to drunk douche bags hitting on me.”
i fucked this dude last night. as i was doing the walk of shame home, the wind blew my dress up and exposed my underpants. I’m pretty sure that’s god’s way of saying “you’re a slut”.
“
| — | a text i received monday afternoon |
good decisionz
there’s this dude i see around sometimes. he is really cute. and really nice, in this genuine way. and really hung (i saw him naked in a public fountain one time—long story).
and really, really into drugs. blow, specifically.
still, he’s a nice guy, and i enjoy his company.
i ran into him tonight at a bar that i frequent. he was short on cash, so i bought him a beer (someone had just bought me one, so i thought it only fitting to pass on the karmic whatever). we kicked it until the bar closed, then went outside to unlock our bikes (which were, coincidentally, locked to the same post).
“what are you doing tomorrow?” he asked, casually.
“nothing much. errands, mostly. you?”
“oh, i’m working.”
“i see.”
“what are you doing later? like…tonight?”
“tonight?”
“yeah, i have a bottle of mad dog in my bag, and was gonna see if you wanted to hang out.”
don’t worry, reader. i refused.
it took every semblance of self control to do it, but i did. i said something about being tired, just got out of work, etc. etc. it is such, SUCH a good decision. i am a grown-ass woman, and i do not have any more time for dudes with habits.
still, this tiny, nagging, wrong-headed voice in the back of my mind keeps saying, “you could be having some cute, nice, big-dicked sex tonight…
…and you’re not.”
dreamz
i had a dream last night that i was getting fucked 6 ways from sunday. i mean, i was getting fucked. i was getting fucked in ways that defied the laws of physics, and by a dude that i have actually fucked in real life (who happens to have a beautiful cock and is good in bed—in real life).
minutes later, in that same dream, i was attending community college, pregnant, and forcing said-lover to take a paternity test.
when a gal can’t even have easy, breezy, strings-free killer sex in her DREAMS…..well, something is amiss.
She's Got Crazy Eyes
Went on two dates the other night. The first one I wanted to punch in the nuts right when I met him, the other I think I intimidated right off the bat. In his defense, he was a young one.
I got blind drunk and insisted to the second guy that there was an older woman and a young child sitting to the left and right of me. Talk about symbolism. Jung or Freud’s pants would have become a little tight while listening to my stream of babbling, but my date slowly and silently distanced himself from me. This guy seemed nice, but he’s looking for a girl that doesn’t exist. Perhaps when he becomes older, he will wake up and realize perfection can’t be nailed down to a science, nor does it exist. Embrace the crazy if the girl can hold her own, I say.
Meanwhile, I’m going through a dry spell and my co-workers give sideways glances at my angry mutterings and grumpy moods. The last time I had sex, it was possibly the worst sex I have ever had in my life and the guy had no sex etiquette. No amount of money he had to spend on me made up for his horrible skills. Now, I’m just at the point where I lack total enthusiasm for the opposite sex. Why are they so full of themselves? Perhaps it’s the guys I’ve been hanging around lately. Fuck the male ego.
I will say, the next time I finally click with someone in bed, I’ll be walking into work with a huge smile on my face and a skip in my step. Till then, I’ll be over here slumped over a computer, sulking and snarling.
