Wednesday, October 07, 2009

The beer garden did not meet my very high expectations. It was beer in an open space. Like beer on someone's apartment patio. LAAAAAAAAAME.

The flowers have continued.

My faithful readers know about the digestive aerobics that belong to my dad. He's had mud butt for about 20 years now and the tales of his trails (of the shit persuasion) are legendary in my family and in my circle of friends. Well lately he hasn't been feeling very well and it has stretched beyond his inability to eat anything spicy, fatty or salty.

My dad called me a few nights ago, which he never does. Apparently he went to the doctor several months ago and the disagnosed him with colon cancer. He went back again a few weeks ago and it has spread to his small intestine. It's bad. And he hasn't told my mom or my brother.

I don't like serious things

Friday, October 02, 2009

flowers in her down my drain

If I have to hear one more asshole at work jokingly say "You don't feel well? It's probably the Swine Flu" and then actually chuckle afterwards like they just made a funny I am going give them a giant wedgie and spit down their ass crack.

I work with a bunch of goobers. They're not funny. They're all a bunch of nerds. Stick to what you know. Testing for semen, cutting people open, and runnign blood through computer databases. Thanks.

I've gotten flowers every day this week. From who, you ask? That's an excellent question and if I knew I would gladly tell you. However they're all delivered without a card. And they've all died a sad and tragic death. Death by garbage disposal. Run over by my car. Eaten by my dog.

I don't know who the creepy fucker is that thinks he's wooing me with flowers, but whoever he is obviously doesn't know me. If he really wanted to get into my heart (aka my pants) he would buy me booze, dark chocolate, give me money, and give me a back rub without complaining.

So EX and I have been communicating only through texts and only in regards to the pup. He sends me a text that simply says "leaving". I go over to the house, spend time with the dog and text him an hour or so later saying "leaving dickface".

No closure. I need a full blown argument. His avoidance is only further enraging me. I've had to fight the urge to tell him I'm leaving and just wait for him to come home so I can throw boiling water on his face or something.

I'm going to a beer garden tonight. Don't know what that is but I'm hoping it's some kind of Willy Wonka situation, but with beer.

Monday, September 28, 2009

Seriously, do LL Cool J and that douche that played Robin seriously have a new tv show? I saw previews for this yesterday and almost pissed myself in laughter. You've got to be kidding me. Apparently the economy is effecting everyone. You can't live off of Batman money forever I guess. Mama said....get ready to be cancelled.

The bro was in town this weekend. Now that he's a full on pussy fiend every day with him is an adventure, and a health hazard. I've had to inform him that he will not be bumping uglies in my apartment. I'm not interested in listening to my brother have sex and even less interested in cleaning up whatever mess might be left behind. I'd have to move for fear the crabs might walk on over to my side of the apartment and jump into the first warm, moist crevace they find. No thanks. I pride myself on my uber clean vag and have no plans on changing that.

We drank way too much and I had to sit in a bar for over an hour listening to him struggle to have a conversation with one of the dumbest bitches I have ever had the misfortune of meeting. I seriously feel dumber by association. And everything that came out of her mouth was a question.

"I think puppies are super cute?"This is a sentence that actually came out of her mouth. I am not shitting you.

And of course my man-whore brother banged her in the bar bathroom.

See, I may be a slut but at least I'm a choosey slut. I refuse to fuck a dumby. I won't bone anyone who smells, is an idiot, is a douchebag or has a douchebag job. I don't fuck people in relationships. I won't ever fuck someone with a name like Chip or Chet or Slade. And he has to be good looking. And I will never ever hump anyone who can't hold a convo and make me laugh. I just won't do it. My vagina is very sensitive to bullshit. I don't want to make her angry.

My brother, on the other hand, will fuck anyone at anytime anywhere. Dirty bar bathroom? Sure! Back seat of a moving cab? Absolutely. On the hood of a strangers car? Why not? Gross. He's gross.

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

My mouse has gone retarded and I'm too lazy to buy a new one so I just slam it against my desk and scream horrifying curse words at it. I personally think that's a great problem solving technique.

Someone sent flowers to my office today. No idea who it was. They didn't leave a card. I hate flowers.

My brother is coming to see me this weekend. For those who read my old blog, you know about my brother. For you newbies I'll give you the abridged version...

My brother is a few years older than me. We've always been incredibly close, but we are polar opposites. He's shy, quiet. mellow. He's the good boy who always says and does the right thing. You would think he shit rainbows that tasted like chocolate chip cookies.

I, of course, am nothing like that and happily so. I shit bile and it smells like aborted babies and homeless people.

My brother married young and his wife was definitely a foot soldier of Satan. This woman was a cunt. She treated my brother like shit and was a horrible human being. I normally enjoy mean-spirited people but she took bad attitude to a new and alarming level.

She and I never got along and it caused a lot of friction between my brother and I.

Then he FINALLY let his balls drop and divorced the beast.

He never sowed his wild oats, to use a ridiculous cliche, so a few months after his split I encouraged him to enjoy his new found freedom. I believe my exact words were "Go get your some clean, young pussy!"

My brother not only took my advice and ran with it, but he flipped it over, stripped it down, oiled it up and fucked it raw. He's been banging anything within grabbing range. To see my mild mannered brother go from Clark Kent to some vagina hungry fuck beast is hysterical, and disturbing, to me.

When I moved I only moved a few hours from him. So every other month or so one of us makes a weekend trip over to see the other. We drink, we party, we play cards, I try to keep him from humping my friends. Good times. I have my brother back and life is good.

Sunday, September 20, 2009

Is that a baby in your uterus or are you just happy to see me?

I managed to get out of babysitting. My too-nice-for-her-own-good fro-worker came to me Friday morning and said "I don't want you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable so let's forget about this weekend. But for the record, you need to give yourself more credit because you are going to make an amazing mother someday." And I immediately got diabetes.

This seemed to be the theme for the weekend.

I made the mistake of answering the phone when my mother called and after the first 10 minutes of "how are you" smoke screen bullshit was over she immediately dove into marriage and babies, as always. My mother has been wanting me to get knocked up for at least 6-8 years. She continually reminds me of my age and tells me I am in the "use it or lose it" state of my life. "You eggs aren't going to be good forever. They have expiration dates, you know."

Then, I went out for drinks with the girls who ended up running into a few old friends from highschool one of which just had a baby a few months ago. Of course that was all she could talk about.
"It's so different when you're a mother. My whole life has changed."

Why do people say that? Isn't that a given? You squirt a human being out of your vagina and you're no responsible for a life other than your own. It's not like you can strap the kid on and take him to the bars with you. Of course your life has changed. That's not shocking to anyone. You aren't telling me something I didn't already know. Why do you think I don't have a kid?

Of course this convo led into my baby hungry friend Marissa whining about how much she wants a kid and my already mother-ized friend Jess chiming in with how much she loves her daughter. BFF Danae and I just sat there.

But trying to blend in with bar furniture didn't work for us. We were roped into the conversation.

Not my friend 1-"Do either of you have kids?

Me- "Nope"

Not my friend 1- "Really? How old are you?"

Me- "I'm 57 and am menopausal now. But don't I look damn good for my age. An apple a day really does work. Make sure you tell your kid that."

(Danae immediately laughs and Jack and Coke comes out of her nose.)

Not my friend 2- (ignoring my hilarity )"When do you plan on having kids?"

Danae- "Sweet Jesus"

Me- "I was thinking never, but I might need to push that plan back a few years."

Desperate for baby friend Marissa- (recognizing that this convo is about to get snarky) "Who needs a new drink?"

Not my friend 1- "Never? Really? Why? Why wouldn't you want to have children and bring a new life into this world? It's amazing!"

Me- "Well, I hate kids. I think they're whinny and needy and I don't want my entire life turned upside down just so I can say I have a kid. I have no desire to take care of a child."

Not my friend 1- (offended )"It's the most rewarding job in the world."

Not my friend 2- "It's what we as women are meant to do."

Me- "Just because you have a uterus in which to house a child, doesn't mean you should actually do it."

Danae- "Steph doesn't have that motherly instinct. And god damn i love her for it."

Not my friend 1- (bitchy) "Someday you'll change your mind and I'm afraid it will be too late for you."

Me- "I doubt it, but should that day come I'll just adopt one of the hundreds of thousands of children who's parent thought just because they were physically able to have kids meant they should. Then they found out what a pain in the ass it is and now their kid doesn't have a home. That's awesome!"

Not my friend 2- "It's really unfortunate you feel that way. I'm sad for you."

Me- "Don't be. I get to fuck whoever I want, drink as much as I want, spend my money on myself and not once do I have to think about anyone else while I do it. I feel sad for you. Having to spend your entire life catering to someone 1/3 your size is a real downer. But it looks like you at least make time to pawn your kids off on someone else and go out and get tipsy. Good for you. Don't let those babies hold you back! Get your drink on!"

Some people just aren't meant to reproduce. I am one of those people. Isn't it a good thing that I recognize that I'm not meant to have kids instead of popping out 3 kids and then living off of the government and bitching about how much I hate my life? Having a kid just because you can is fucking selfish, and stupid. I don't like kids. Therefore I don't want any of my own. I don't want to be responsible for ruining some else's life just because I feel some sort of obligation to use the uterus I was born with.

And I hate all of these self righteous parents who not only bombarded everyone with their inane "my kid is awesome" bullshit every chance they get, but who also feel it's their responsibility to make sure EVERYONE reproduces.

Hey, mom of the year, stop sucking back those martinis and go home and be with your kid if you're so keen on motherhood. Leave the bar scene to people like me who just want to get drunk and get laid.

Friday, September 18, 2009

Karma is a mean, nasty cunt and I hope she dies a slow, STD induced death. While it felt amazing to get back at EX and hit him where it hurts, his friend's penis, I am now finding myself in a bad position.

I always knew my vagina was magical. It's like the rabbit hole in Alice in Wonderland. It takes you to amazing places you thought you could only reach with the help of hallucinogenic drugs. 15 minutes in there and you're seeing giant mushrooms, singing flowers and having a tea party. I suppose I underestimated the power and goodness of my own hooha.

EX's friend will NOT stop calling me. He calls me at least 3 times a day. He's emailed me. He even sent flowers to my work. They met a quick demise when I introduced them to a little hydrochloric acid. He stopped by my house on Wednesday. I pretended like I wasn't home. He's a borderline stalker at this point. He got a taste of that pussy juice and doesn't know what to do with himself. Steph cooch is the best cooch.

I'm not interested in a boyfriend, at least not this guy as a boyfriend. It was simply a way to get off and piss someone off. Had I known it was going to go this way I would have held out for another few weeks. As much as I love me some penis it's so not worth this Glenn Close bullshit.

On another note; funniest thing to happen to me in awhile; I was asked to babysit. A human baby. One that is still living.

Who would ask such a thing of a person like me? What kind of borderline retard would think entrusting me with the safety of their child sounds like a smart move? Well, she's not retarded. Just hopelessly sweet and trusting of everyone, obviously to a fault. She's a coworker who works in the insurance office and is always trying to convince me I'm a good person and when she hears the tales of my debauchery she always says "Oh, Stephanie, you're too good for that." It's like she's on a mission to prove me wrong about myself. She always tells me that I have a kind soul and refuses to believe I hate people as much as I do. Plus, she brings me dark chocolate and tells me I'm pretty so automatically I'm a fan.

Her kid is 4 and she and her husband haven't had a single night alone together since she had the thing. They had a babysitter all lined up and she suddenly cancelled on them this morning. So she thought I'd be a good choice.

Let me tell you a few things about me. I hate kids. I think they're all brats. I don't care if I used to be one, I was a brat too. They whine. They're messy. They smell weird. They're missing teeth. They throw fits. Their voices are high pitched an annoying. I don't have any kind of motherly instinct in my entire body. Not even when I was a kid. I tried my hand at babysitting and hated them just the same when I was 13 as I do now. I'm not meant to be around children, let alone birth them. But for some disturbing reason kids love me. They flock to me like flies on shit. And that just further proves my point that they're stupid. Why would a kid want to be around someone that couldn't care less about them? Dumb kids. I explained all of this to my fro-worker who laughed it off a chalked it up to what she likes to call "tough Stephanie complex". I might get roped in to watching a kid out of pity. That's right. I'm capable of pity now

Sunday, September 13, 2009

Revenge is a dish best served...with cock

I accomplished alot this weekend. I managed to break my sex drought AND get back at EX all in one weekend! I really am an over achiever.

Friday night some of the girls and I decided to class it up a bit and venture outside of our usual dive bar routine. We headed to some new yuppie bar in the snobby part of town in search of new penis possibilities and a change of scenery. I love my seedy bars, but I was tired of being hit on by 50 year old bikers that look like a member of ZZtop and starring at a homeless guy with one arm who likes to have conspiracy theory conversations with the beer he paid for with beggin' money.

I even wore a skirt. My wardrobe consists of shorts, sweats and jeans. Lots and lots of jeans. This skirt business is a big deal. I even worked heels. I'll allow you a moment to truly let that sink in..........

We're drinking $12 martinis and discussing what fake names we plan on giving out tonight when I see a familiar face; EX's friend Miles.

Miles reminds me of Patrick Bateman from American Psycho. Incredibly good looking, built, totally self obsessed, snobby, tries way too hard, and I could absolutely see him chasing hookers down the hallway with a chainsaw. He's a weird dude and on more than on occasion has driven me absolutely nutty with his "I'm a stock broker. I make lots of money. My cock is 10 inches long" bullshit.

But, there were also moments of decency. I remember a poker game where he was actually funny and mildly charming. He even bought the booze and didn't rub it in everyone's faces like he usually do. He's the cheapest rich guy I've ever met.

At first I was going to ignore him. I wasn't in the mood for small talk that was going to make me want to shove a swizzle stick in my eye. But once he came over and started being someone entertaining I changed my mind.

He bought me drinks, made me laugh and his presence kept away the other suit clad douche bags.

Eventually my friends got bored and he said if I wanted to stay he'd give me a ride home.

We went back to my place and at first I had no intention of doing anything sexual with him. I may have been drunk and he may have been hot, but I didn't want to be THAT girl. But, as he poured me some wine and started telling me how sorry he was that EX had fucked me over my mind began to change. Apparently everyone knew about Porno Barbie and EX. Everyone but me.

"I never thought he'd cheat on you. We all loved you. We all thought you were really cool and he's not the cheating type."

I don't know how it got started. Given my state of hyper hornyness I most likely threw my panties on the floor and started humping his leg. That wouldn't surprise me. But either way I decided I didn't care about crossing the line and doing a bitchy thing. Why should I worry about someone's feelings when they obviously didn't worry about mine? I have no obligation to this man now.

So I got mine, 3 times that night and again before he left in the morning. He may not have had a 10 incher, but however big it was worked out just fine. And while he did try too hard to sound sexy while we were fucking, it was good. Really good.

What was better? I called EX in the middle and made sure his voicemail picked up every moan and grunt of our 2nd time around.

I finally got an email response Saturday night:

You're a cold bitch. I hope you're happy.

You're right, and I am :)