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.

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.

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.

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

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 :)

There's a penis shortage

I understand alcoholics. I totally get the appeal. Because last night I rekindled an old flame. His name is Jose, and he's my smooth, dirty Mexican lover. I didn't even mind cuddling with him. He can rub his dirty stache on my cheek any time.

I got WASTED last night.

I'm a drinker and can drink most guys under the table. I'm pretty sure my liver crapped out somewhere between 20-23 years old. Now it just soaks up alcohol like a sponge. But last night was a very rare moment in total booze over indulgence for me. I haven't allowed myself to molest a bar tab like that in quite some time, especially on a week night.

I had to be carried home. That's not a metaphor. My friend had to call her boyfriend at 2:00am and have him come get me. And when I refused to get into his car, for a reason I can't remember, he literally picked me up and carried me the 7 blocks back to my apartment. I only know this because I had 6 text messages telling me so.

The last thing I remember, I was flirting with the grizzly 60 something bartender just so he would let me keep the bottle of Jose tucked nicely under my arm. The perfect place for cuddling and sipping. I woke up this morning to my alarm screaming in my ear and my cell phone playing "Rock the Casbah" (My drinking buddy's ringtone). I had a sock on (I didn't wear socks last night). My hair was matted to the side of my face by a glue that was some how created by my alcohol spit and maybe a little upchuck, though I don't remember throwing up. My bra was off (I DID wear a bra even though my 12 year old boy tits probably don't require it). I had raccoon eyes and a head ache that would drop a mule. The worst part is, I didn't even wake up with a dick in my hand or a used condom in my trash can. The streak continues.

Have I told any of you that EX is a complete and utter pussy? Not a sweet, tight, clean pussy that glistens in the sun light and smells like lilacs on a crisp, Spring day. No, he's the kind of pussy that oozes herp juice and aborted fetuses. He's the kind of pussy who's stench could melt the skin off of your face. The kind the medical world will eventually need to study. The kind that has been so used and abused that you could fit a 747 in it's lips. The kinds that requires a weed whacker, protective goggles and a tarp. Have you picked up on the fact that he hasn't returned my calls? He hasn't commented on the utter destruction I left in his house. My emails, nothing there either. No, he's hiding. He's scared and that is the only redeeming quality he has at this point. Brains.

I love a good confrontation and I especially love to point out a spineless dick cheese when he slips up and reveals he's not the decent guy I've been given his credit for. I think that's what pisses me off the most. I'm irritated that he cheated on me with that blow up doll the state is allowing to pass as a real live woman. But more than that I'm pissed that he got one over on me.

For all of those who have been following me for all these years you know I am not a fan of commitment. Boyfriends make me nauseous and the mere mention of being a "couple" requires cream for the hives I inevitably get. I let this guy in, even got ENGAGED for a period of time. I bought a house with him. I let his underwear touch mine in the laundry. I listened to his sing Rush songs while he played video games. I gave voluntary oral at least 4 times a week. I allowed him to call me sickening names like "Honey" and "baby" and I didn't flinch once. That's unheard of in the world of Steph.

I don't care that we broke up. I care that I spoke so highly of him after the fact. I care that all this time a little part of me felt guilty for not being the kind of warm and fuzzy chick I thought he deserved.

Now I want slit open his ball sacks, let the contents spill to the floor and demand his big tittied girlfriend suck it up like she was getting paid.

Someone is going to be ball-less....soon

As you remember EX and I bought I dog together during my period of domestic haze. Her name is Sally, she's a big, beautiful beast of a bitch and I immediately loved her more than EX himself. However when we came to our senses and split up it was illogical for me to move her in with me. My apartment is not equipt to house a 60+ lb dog and frankly, I'm afraid she'd eat my bras, piss on my porno dvds and eat all of my food. So EX kept her at his house and I go by several times a week to love on her, take her for a walk, that sort of thing.

This past week EX had to go out of town for business. Though this happens with some frequency this was the first time since we split that he'd be gone for an entire week and we both decided it would be a good idea if I stayed at the house with Sally.

It was weird being back in the house. I hadn't been in there for more than an hour or so since I moved out. I looked and felt like a completely different place, even though everything was still pretty much the same. It must have been the fact that my underwear wasn't strung out all over the place. And it didn't smell like vanilla and lube. But whatever.

The week was going fine. I was actually very respectful of his space. I flushed every time I took a dump and even replaced the toilet paper (something I don't even do in my own house. Yes, I have to run the 30yrd dash with my underwear around my ankles alot). I cleaned my own dishes, well, I just used paper plates but the result is still the same. I even kept my masturbatory endeavors to the shower only. This is a big step for me! Usually I diddle my clit on the couch with the blinds open.

Thursday night I went out for drinks with some friends. Again, being on my new responsibility kick, I only had 6 beers and NO shots and came home pretty early. I let Sally in and she immediately ran for bedroom, something she never does. Then I heard "Oh my god! Get off!!!"

I wasn't nearly drunk enough to think Sally had suddenly found the ability to speak, so I grabbed the closest weapon I could find (in this case my keys, perfect for stabbing eyes or assholes with equal effectiveness) and ran into the master.

There, half ass naked, was some blonde chick trying to push Sally off of here.

Once I called Sally away she looked at me, squeeled, covered up and asked me who I was and what I wanted.

"Uh, I could ask the same thing. What the fuck are you doing in here? And why is your crotch hanging out?"

"OMG! (yes, she actually said the letters. This is not a joke.) Are you _____'s fiance?"

"EX fiance, but yeah. Who the fuck are you?"

At this point she stood up, revealing a cheesy pleather bra holding up what can only be properly described as basketball tits. I have mosquito bites for boobies and I am an appreciator of those with an ample chest. I don't even care if you want to plunk down thousands to get your fun bags filled up with silicone. More power to you. But this is beyond anything I have ever seen in real life. It's like she couldn't afford a good plastic surgeon so she just flew to Mexico and paid some kid to cut open her chest, peel the skin as far as it would go and shove two basketballs in there.

She wasn't wearing any underwear and her landing strip was off center. Not to mention the bitch had some serious razor burn. May I reccommend a good waxer?

So she was walking towards me, vagina in the open air, in stripper heels, with her hand extended like she wanted to shake mine.

"I'm Nessa! OMG (still saying the letters) it's sooooo nice to finally meet you."

I shy away from shaking her hand. I have no idea who's dick it was just on. She could have palm herps for all I know.

"Ok? Seriously, who the fuck are you?"

"Nessa!"

"And who is Nessa?"

"I'm _______'s girlfriend! He hasn't mentioned me?"

No, he hadn't mentioned her. He hadn't told me he was dating a D rate porn star. He hadn't told me she might be stopping by to snooze pantyless on his bed while I was dog sitting. He hadn't mentioned any of that.

"No, I didn't know he was seeing anyone."

"Ohhhh, he probably didn't want to hurt your feelings. But he talks about you ALL the time! It's nice to finally meet you. I feel like I know you already."

Here's where she went in for a hug. She wanted her vagina to be in close proximity to my own.

"Uh, I don't hug people. So, um, what are you doing here? He's out of town."

"OMG! That's right! He told me that. I totally forgot. I thought he was just out with his homies."
Yes, she said OMG and homies. Seperately it's horrific but in the same sentence it was about my make my ears bleed.

After a few more minutes of me awkwardly doding her attempts at physical contact I finally managed to get her towards the door and on her way out. That's when she said...

"I'm so glad we're cool. I really thought we might have some beef considering everything."

"Uh, yeah well ____ and I get along so I don't really care if he's seeing someone."

"No I meant since he and I were going out while you two were still together. I thought that would be awkward for us but I'm super glad it isn't."

And then she left. And I was speechless.

I'm not jealous. I don't love him and stopped loving him before we broke up. But come on! He came back yesterday and was welcomed home to a destroyed house, one nasty letter, 3 nasty emails and literally 42 biting voicemails. He hasn't returned my calls.