STEPH DOES BLOGGER

2009-10-07T11:51:00.001-07:00

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

flowers in her hair....flowers down my drain

2009-10-02T16:30:00.001-07:00

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.

2009-09-28T12:56:00.000-07:00

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.

2009-09-23T17:49:00.000-07:00

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?

2009-09-20T06:21:00.000-07:00

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.

2009-09-18T09:05:00.000-07:00

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

2009-09-13T07:22:00.000-07:00

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

2009-09-11T08:30:00.000-07:00

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.

2009-09-09T16:25:00.000-07:00

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

2009-09-07T10:57:00.000-07:00

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.

Ring a ding dong

2009-08-30T06:58:00.000-07:00

Well kids, for a minute there it looked promising. It looked like this dried up vagina might get some life breathed back into her yet. Just when she was packing her ovaries and getting ready to hit the road there was penis at the end of the tunnel. And I didn't even meet him at a bar!

We met at some ridiculous "convention" (and by convention I mean 60 nerds in an outdated ballroom in a shitty hotel all talking about the latest ways to test semen and hair follicles at a crime scene). He's a lab rat like me and while I usually am disgusted by men in my profession, he didn't make me vomit in my mouth.

Let me tell you, guys I work with are hideous 93% of the time. I wish they were as hot as all the lab crew dudes on tv but sadly, they aren't. They're old, balding, have beer guts, and most of the time spit food out of their mouths when they laugh. Ugly Asians or middle aged men. That's what I have to work with every day.

I hope little girls out there aren't aspiring to be lab rats in the hopes of meeting some bio mechanical hottie because it ain't gonna happen. You'll have better luck settling, becoming a receptionist at some corporation and having an affair with the married CEO. At least then you can convince him to buy you a car and a condo to keep you from interrupting Sunday dinner and showing his wife and kids the nudie pics he took of you last weekend.

My new goal in life: A realistic career counselor.

Anyway, dude was pretty cute and he seemed just as bored as I was. We ditched the last half of the "convention" and went out for a beer at some overpriced yuppie bar where every drink has a homo name and fruit in it.

As I do in all social situations, I drank....alot...too much to drive home without killing a small child or retarded pedestrian who isn't smart enough to stay out of the way of swerving cars. He called me a cab and slipped me his card.

I normally have a rule about going out with guys who actually give out their cards. But I think I'm turning over a new leaf and becoming a more forgiving human being. Or maybe I smelled dick in the water and my shark pussy needed to be fed.

I called him the next day and he suggested we grab some food and beer. Two of my favorite things. Afterwards we came back to my place and started some rather heated making out. It was like being a teenager and making out in the back seat of your boyfriend's car. The anticipation was building...

Then my cell phone rang. I didn't answer it of course. I don't care if someone is on their death bed. If I'm in hump mode I can't be bothered.

Then my cell rang again. And Again. And again.

He stopped and looked at me expectantly.

"Aren't you going to answer the phone?"

"No" I tried to keep the kissing going. He literally pushed me away.

"Seriously? Maybe it's something important. Obviously they really want to talk with you."

"I'll call them back."

"What if someone is hurt?"

"I'm not a doctor. Why would they be calling me?"

Silence.

"That's cold."

"Um...ok?"

"I can't believe you wouldn't answer the phone when it's so obvious someone is trying to get ahold of you."

"I can't believe you give this much of a shit."

Silence.

"I'm bored with you and now I think you're kinda weird. You can leave."

He called me a crazy bitch, and left.

Guys, don't put in your two cents. We don't care about your opinions. We want the lips shut and the pants off.

Oh, and the oh so important phone call? My mom. My mom telling me the check out girl at Target only charged her $6.99 for a sheet set when it should have been $69.99.

Jeb

2009-08-24T09:15:00.000-07:00

I actually met a man with the name of Jeb this weekend. This was a first for me. And he was everything I ever wanted a Jeb to be. He was even wearing a John Deere shirt, and not in the douche bag way that same assholes wear it, like it's a fashion statement. No, he wore it because he owns a John Deere tractor and actually uses farming equipment for more than hillbilly races.

He chewed tobacco and spit it into a clear cup from QT.

He smelled like hay and horse ass hole.

He said "Little Lady" alot.

He talked about his ex wife and his daughter, who just turned 17, and how he wished he could see her more but they live "in some damn Yankee state now". (Side note, we live in what I would deem a Yankee state, but I wasn't going to argue with him)

He bought me shots of Patron and PBR.

He wore overalls and went into a 30 minute diatribe about how comfortable they are.

I think I'm in love

It was a good night and he was a gentleman. Despite his looks he was the best guy I've met in awhile

Hello God, are you there? It's me, Steph

2009-08-20T16:18:00.000-07:00

I think God is trying to tell me something. I think he's trying to show me a path for my life. Yes, God has spoken to me and I now know what my purpose is. I am meant...to clean up the vagina stink in this world.

Yes, God has put another rotting cooch stink in my path.

I was standing in line behind a girl today and I could literally smell her vagina. I am not kidding. This has never happened to me before. Though I have often joked around about local sluts having stinky slits I have never been so misfortunate as to actually smell one.

There was no mistaking it. It wasn't like she had a tuna fish sandwich for lunch and her breath was kicking. This was the scent of a not so fresh pussy. It smelled like fishy (obviously), sweaty armpits that had been sprayed with Frito dust and put in the hot sun for about an hour and then rubbed in Star Jones' ass crack.

I am obsessively clean when it comes to my body and my lady parts in particular. It's summer time. It's hot outside. That's a dark, dank place that doesn't get alot of fresh air when you're going about your daily routine. So I think it's incredibly important to pay extra close attention to it at all times. I give her some special attention in the shower. Ok, so it doesn't hurt that I have a pulsating shower head and am fantastic at the art of masturbation, but it's also because I like to get her squeaky clean. I carry around wipes. This may sound silly to some but if it's good enough for a baby's ass, it's good enough to keep my summertime hooha in tip top shape. I don't understand why every woman doesn't do this.

Naturally I had to share my misfortune with someone else. This was too good, and too horrifying, to keep to myself. I had to send my friend a text message just to fully document the event:

The Chosen One: There is a smelly pussy in the building and I am down wind.

NON Blonde friend: Like a cat? Where are you?

Target bitch!

( I imagine she's chomping gum and twirling her hair, while doing her nails and reading the latest US Weekly update on John and Kate)
And there's a cat in there? Did it just run in?

(Annoyed and wanting to murder)
It's not a fucking cat! Who calls an actual cat a pussy?

(She's still dumb)
What are you talking about?

(I'm practically yelling at this point)
A pussy! A vagina! I am behind a woman with a vagina that is malodorous. Is that better?

(Lightbulb)
Ohh. That's gross.

I didn't say I had smart friends. I prefer being the beauty and the brains in the bunch.

I'm pretty sure stinky vag heard me. She turned around as my volume got louder and then stayed pretty still, only moving when it was necessary. Probably so the stench didn't waft up anymore.

I have the day off tomorrow. This is my first non-weekend day off in 7 months. How do I plan to spend this time you ask? Beer. Pajama pants. Porn.

Happy Hump Day!

2009-08-19T09:45:00.000-07:00

It's Hump Day! This used to be a joyous event on my old blog. We'd talk about gratuitous sex, I'd make fun of people's weird fetishes, and someone lonely perv most likely stroked his trouser snake to everyone's funny sex stories. It was my favorite day of the blogging week. Sadly my new blog doesn't have the following it used to and until things pick up and others discover my delicate genius I will keep Wednesdays as just another shit sucking day plopped in the middle of the shit sucking week.

I will, however, tell you that I have not had sex in 7 weeks. Let me say that again so it really sinks in. I. HAVE. NOT. HAD. SEX. IN. SEVEN. WEEKS. This is officially the 2nd longest I have gone without getting my hole filled by something actually attached to a male.

I don't enjoy this. I'm ready to start humping inanimate objects. When I see a chair and think to myself "Wow, he's kind of cute. Wonder if he works out?" I know there is a problem that needs to be addressed. However, I'm not willing to let just any fuckface with a penis penetrate these pussy walls. I'm getting a little more selective in my old age. 4 shots and a decent looking guy don't do it for me anymore.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not interested in finding a serious relationship. I'm not saving myself for the next Mr. Steph. I'm just not willing to throw pussy around like it's confetti and see what it sticks to. No matter how hard up I am I am not willing to give my shit away to those who clearly don't deserve it.

Apparently asking for a good looking, single, stench-free, somewhat sober, halfway intelligent (or at least has the ability to fake intelligence), kinda funny dude is a tall order.

My vagina isn't happy and when she's not happy ain't noone happy.

Going out tonight, which I don't normally do so maybe I'll get lucky in more ways than one. Wish my coochie luck. She needs it.

Swimming upstream

2009-08-18T09:43:00.000-07:00

Some asshole brought in fish for lunch, microwaved it, and now the entire break room and hallway smell like the Rock of Love bus. The sweet scent of rotting vagina is even started to seep into one of the lab areas.

Who the hell brings fish to work to eat for lunch? And why does said assdick MICROWAVE IT??? You might as well just bring in a bunch of hookers, tell themto whip their coochies out, line them up along the wall and let fans blow their crotch stink around the room.

Twist and shout

2009-08-16T08:18:00.000-07:00

I twisted my ankle last night. And not even in a cool way. It wasn't like I was stumbling out of a cool bar at 2am, stepped on a diamond as big as my fist, fell down a flight on stairs and landed head first into Patrick Dempsey's lap. No, I just tripped up the stairs in my apartment building at 11:30 after doing not a god damn thing all fucking night long. I did however scream "God tits!" Really loud. Don't know why. Was the first thing that popped into my head. Some dude down the hall opened his door and was nice enough to just shut the door and keep what I'm sure would be retarded comments to himself.

Now I'm hobbling around. I will attract a whole new breed of men. Guys who like to sport fuck cripples.

2009-08-14T14:52:00.000-07:00

I just found my old blog and can't remember the email or password I used. Read the whole thing. God I'm a funny muthafucka. Wish I could remember my shit. I wouldn't even know where to start

Is that a seeing eye dog or do you just have peanut butter on your balls?

2009-08-13T16:22:00.000-07:00

I got tricked into agreeing to a blind date. More like lured. Went out for drinks with some peeps from work last night and my froworker "just happened" to see some guy she knows at the bar and this guy "just happened" to be totally by himself at said bar. I find that utterly creepy unless you're there to meet people, and even then wait in your car dude. You look like a sex offender stalking the bar for your next rape victim. This guy "just happens" to be a guy she hasn't shut up about for 3 weeks. "Oh Steph, he's REALLY cute" "Oh Steph, he's intelligent and has a great job, owns his own condo." Ohhhhhhhhhhh....Steph doesn't care.

I have gone on blind dates before. They always end in horrible disaster mostly because...
1.) you have absolutely no idea what you're getting into. One person's Brad Pitt is another person's bloated Marlon Brando in The Godfather. I don't trust anyone when they tell me someone is good looking.
2.) the hype. This guy has been built up to be the most amazing human being on the planet. Hot, funny, smart. And they never are. They're always mediocre at best. Too self aware, slightly moronic and socially retarded. Then you're forced to spend a few awkward hours with someone you wouldn't even piss on if they were on fire.

So my froworker bypassed the whole asking and me saying no bit and decided to just push me right into the shit pool and watch me drown.

I'm not good in forced situations. It takes all of my energy to behave somewhat socially acceptable in my every day life so to put me in front of some guy who's expecting a love connection while I'm 2 beers and a strong martini deep is a bad move. I have no filter. I have no verbal catheter. A thought goes in, the words come out and I don't even know it's happened until someone gives me a shocked look and I realize I've verbally pissed the bed.

His name was Rod. It's 2009. No one should be named Rod. That's for bad 80's movies only. In order to be named Rod you need to have feather hair, drive a camaro and only listen to Foreigner and Cheap Trick.

He was wearing a silk shirt. I literally said "Is that silk? I didn't know they still made silk shirts. Is that your 'goin out' shirt? Seriously, is this a joke? Is that shirt a joke?" You would have thought I just told him his grandpa molested him or something.

He asked if he could sit next to me. I told him only if he bought my drinks for the rest of the night. He didn't even buy my next drink and I immediately told him to get out of the booth unless he was going to follow the rules.

At the end of the night I really did feel bad. This poor guy didn't stand a chance in Hell. And I blame my friend. She knows me better

The carpet matches the drapes

2009-08-10T09:03:00.000-07:00

I need some good blogs to read. Suggest some to me if you know of any I might like.

It doesn't matter how much you love your job, Mondays suck donkey balls. There's nothing fun about getting your ass out of bed and staring down the beginning of another 5 straight days of work. I didn't want to get up this morning. It took every ounce of effort I could muster to even roll over and shut off the alarm clock.

After the break up The EX stayed in the house and I moved into a nice apartment complex. He offered me the house but I think there's something very covert lez about a single woman living in a suburban subdivision alone. To me that screams "I'm a dyke and will most likely be adopting some kinds from Kenya soon to soothe the sting of lonliness." What does a single person need with 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, and a finished basement?

So my apartment complex is very nice. It's expensive. So much so that I might need to start giving handjobs at red traffic lights to make rent money. You'd think in such a nice place there would be an abundance of yuppie business men and young families. No, no, no. I have the weirdest hodge podge of God's forgotten children in my building. Maybe they put me in the retard's wing to keep me away from the real people? My across the hall neighbor is an old bag who constantly has a cigarette in her mouth, old, ratty slippers on and no bra. She's got to be pushing 70 and she dyes her hair construction cone orange. She likes the black dick and surprisingly gets it on a regular basis. She gets piss drunk at least once a month and knocks at my door at ridiculous hours slurring her words and asking me for something random, like pepper. The conversation always ends in her telling me something disgusting inappropriate. Like "I dye my pubes red (side note: it's not red. Seriously, it's orange.) too. Men don't care if you have a bush as long as its the same color as the hair on your head." Thank you for the mental image of you spreading hair dye on your 1970's style porno bush. This morning, while I was leaving for work, I saw her outside walking her rat of a dog. She was sucking on a cigarette like it was giving her money and shuffling along in those slipper that were probably pink at one time. She barked "Hey honey, you have any ricotta cheese?"

2009-08-09T10:22:00.000-07:00

How more ADD can I possibly be? I see something shiny and I'm off the reservation for YEARS. I'm not dead. I wasn't sold into sexual slavery after shooting my mouth off to some Thai drug lord. It just wasn't doing it for me. I didn't have that same drive and passion for typing about my daily life anymore. I felt the need to perform and felt like a limp dick on prom night. Too much pressure.

Beyond that someone had stolen my pictures and made a blog on wordpress or something of the like. She wasn't nearly as funny as me but it was definitely a surreal moment in my life. Half the time I don't even want to be me. So I got her shit shut down and then even MORE didn't feel like blogging.

But now I'm back. For how long, not sure. Could be days, could be years. I'm restless. You all know this.

A lot has happened during my absence. One day I got a wild hair in my hooha and decided to move. I just packed my shit and moved to a new city without a friend, without a job, without a place to stay. It was a scary month and I was literally living out of a Super 8 motel that I'm pretty sure doubled as a brothel when the sun went down. I have seen some shit, let me tell you. But I finally found a job that I actually love. I found an apartment that didn't smell like vagina blood and urine. And I met a boy. A cute boy with dimples who wore polo shirts and had dinner with his sick grandmother once a month. A good boy who was honest and romantic and who could hump like you wouldn't believe. Eye watering sexual skills this man had.

So we flirted. And we dated. And we had amazing sex in every imaginable place. We held hands. We started dating eachother exclusively. We met eachother's parents. We bought a dog together. We bought a house together. He got down on one knee, asked me to be his forever and I said yes.

That's right kids. Someone gave me a big sparkly and I promised to be with him for the rest of my life. Never did I ever think I would do something like that. Can I just tell you that my mother was beside herself with glee. Actual glee. Like squealing with delight.

And now it's over. Come on, you saw it coming. We were together for almost 2 years and it just got boring. We were both bored. So instead of being bored and miserable for the rest of our lives we called it quits.

I'm not meant to be married. This of course destroyed my mother. She didn't speak to me for 2 weeks. I might as well have brought Jesus back to life and stabbed him in the testicles. She might have treated me better had that been the case.

So I have been back on the singles scene for almost 3 months. And now I'm remembering how painful and annoying dating is. Every guy irritates me. No one is interesting or original. They're all copies of eachother. Paper cut out douche bags who think they're cute and funny but they're soooo wrong. And I'm soooo not afraid to let them know.

2007-01-05T13:27:00.000-08:00

It's been awhile. And for everyone that went into freak out mode thinking I had pulled another disappearing act, fear not.

The truth is I didn't have much to blog about. I so wanted to come home from a trip to the homestead with tales of bitchy aunts, parental couch sex and dinners ruined by bad family blood and too much alcohol. Alas, things were out of the norm....normal. Well, at least what most people would consider normal. For my family the fact that we barely argued and no one died or was threatened with death is surely a sign of the apacolypse. Dare I say my trip home was pretty boring.

I did, however, have the grave misfortune of running into a girl I used to go to school with.

Every fucking year without fail around holiday time I run into some idiot I DO NOT want to see, speak to, smell or remember even exsists. It's like every drone on society (and my sanity) comes out of the woodwork and somehow ends up whereever I am. One Christmas my family and I went on a trip to Mexico to do something different for the holidays. Thousands of miles away from any state I could possibly know another human being sounds like an adequate buffer zone, but not so much. Day 3 into our family trip and a guy I dated my freshman year of highschool approached me at a restaurant and revealed he was there to see his best friend tie the knot. What are the fucking odds? Of course I was with my mother who refuses to allow me to properly blow people off. I was forced to spend the better part of dinner chit chatting with some asshole I barely remembered. And just as I suspected his life was useless and boring.

This holiday was no different. The day before I left to visit my parents and I was running around like a hooker trying to fill her fuck quota. Frantically trying to finish up my Christmas shopping, the last thing I wanted to do was deal with another human being. And then out of nowhere popped Nina. Nina was a foreign exchange student who spent 3 semesters in this glorious country of ours my junior/senior years of highschool. She was from Finland and played up the ditzy blonde thing a little too much. The poor, sheepish highschool boys ate it up of course. She came to the States a virgin and left the biggest whore in our school. And I went to a school filled with whores.

So she came up to me while I was tits deep in packages and frustration. Apparently she moved back to the country a year or so ago and is now working in advertising and trying to become a model. This is where I pretended to be shocked. She got about 2 minutes of false friendliness before I went into "fuck it" mode and said something to the effect of "I really don't care what you're doing with your life, where you work, who you're fucking or what your future plans are. Honestly, I don't even care if you're alive." She started to cry, cussed at me in her native tongue and stormed off. I'm sure she'll find comfort on the end of some random strangers dick.

Study up for the oral exam

2006-12-20T12:08:00.000-08:00

I have discovered a new sexual joy: a boy who is VERY eager to please. My past sexual experiences have been with men who have been around a time or two and who know what they're doing. Of course there have been the few missteps where you think a guy is going to be fanfuckingtastic in bed and he ends up doing something weird like humping your leg or making animal noises while his little 5 incher struggles to make any kind of difference in your mood. But for the most part the men I've slept with have known what they're doing it, have done it and done it well and then all was right and good in the world. And though I know my own sexuality can be pretty intimidating to lesser men, they've all done a pretty good job of putting on their cocky (pun not intended but still pretty damn funny) face and pretending they're sex gods.

From the jump I told Youngster I wasn't interested in a project. I wasn't going to impart my sex wisdom on him and wasn't going to mold him into the sexual beast I was hoping he could be. I just don't have that kind of energy. So right away the boy was scared shitless that one wrong penis motion and I'd boot his ass out the door. So when he came over a week ago he brought his "A" game and a STRONG desire to make me scream as loud as humanly possible.

I think every normal woman enjoys oral and could probably be pretty damn happy if a guy just shut the fuck up and stuck his head between her legs for hours. But, we're realistic and realize that men are perpetually ADD stricken and usually don't give unless they're getting something in return. So we have come to know that no clit licking session is going to last for more than 10-20 minutes.

Oh...but if you snag yourself a young pup who wants to make a good first impression you get over an hour of some serious carpet licking and finger play. I felt like writing his mother a letter or something....

"Dear Mrs. ______,
I'm writing to simply say thank you. I don't know what you did, but your son has grown up to be a fine young man. His aggressive "go getter" attitude is going to take him far in life. In fact, it took him right down to my vagina where he spent over an hour making me see spots and scream for God. Well done mam!"

After my oral pleasure fest he got up, got me something to drink, kissed my forehead and left. My job was done. All I had to do was lay there and bask in the glory of that monumental event...and then fall asleep. Score!

Don't worry, we eventually had sex the next day and that was pretty fucking good too. In fact, I was eager to reward him for his good deeds. Maybe that was his plan all along. Smart cookie.

Well, finals are over, I'm on break and I get to cram Christmas shopping into 3 fun fulled days. I head home Saturday night. I feel like I was just there. Oh wait! I was. I suggest we spread Christmas and Thanksgiving a little further out. This is too much family time for one person to have to endure.

Here's to you, Mrs. Robinson

2006-12-07T09:09:00.000-08:00

I've never dated a guy significantly younger than me for several reasons. One, I like to be the most emotionally unavailable, insensitive, immature person in the relationship. It's my role, I like to play it at all times. Two, Most guys my age or younger annoy me to the point of anger. I'm so mad at most of them for being so damn stupid and unlikeable. Three, I've found that many younger guys don't have a good amount of sexual experience. They still think all you have to do is stick a dick in a hole and all is well in the land of orgasm. They're lazy and refuse to put in the good work it takes to get the average woman off. Beyond that I have just never been in the mood for a project. I don't have the patience or energy it takes to teach a young pup the ways of the world...and the clit.

On that note I met, made out with and had a little over the pants action with a 19 year old. This kid is probably the complete opposite of everything I have ever found attractive and desirable in a man. He JUST turned 19 about 2 months ago and he's still plugging away at his freshman courses while I'm tits deep in med school.

He's incredibly pretty. Like scorch-the-sun, make-girl's-jealous-because-his-eyelashes-are-that-fucking-long pretty. It's ridiculous. He has blonde hair and blue eyes and I'm normally more of a tall, dark, handsome, brooding and fucked up kinda gal. He's Abercrombie model buff and while I appreciate nice abs and wouldn't mind licking them a little bit I have never been super, super turned on by the uber toned body. He's just so suburban white boy. The Norman Rockwell upbringing that irritates me.

I'm pretty sure it's all purely sexual. I don't even really know anything about his personality or his likes/dislikes. He could worship Satan and eat first born sons for breakfast every full moon for all I know.

We'll see what happens. We're going out again Friday. Well, 'm going out with my girlfriends, he's going to some metrosexual club downtown and then we're meeting at some point to make out in my car before I have to drive him back to his dorm room

Shitfuckcockasspluggingsackofhorseshit

2006-12-02T06:41:00.000-08:00

This week has been equal parts shit and barf. It's been a craptacular week and it seemed like there was no end in sight. To properly describe my week I would have to say it was like wading in a pool of Satan's post spicy burrito diarrhea, then all of a sudden getting a wicked leg cramp and going under....without taking a proper breath first.

Work blew. I can't say much more than that because no words in the English dictionary properly describe how much it fucking sucked. I have come to the conclusion that I hate every single fucktard I work with and I am the only non-idiot there. For a bunch of smart people they sure are stupid.

Class this week wasn't much better. Again, I was (and always am) surrounded by morons. But apparently you can be a complete and total retard and as long as you kiss major ass you'll be a fucking wonderkid. To add to the fuckfest a new girl just tranfered into the program from a school in California (yes for all of you stalkers keeping track on your "Where does Steph live" maps at home that means I don't like in California. 1 State down, 48 more to weed through). If California was personified and was up walking around, taking class notes and sucking dick it would be this chick. The very look of her annoys the ever loving shit out of me. And she has ever bookworm douche bag boy in this program walking around with a permaboner. She acts ditzy too, which I can't stand. She's one of those girls that plays the role of the helpless little girl because she thinks that's what men like. I wan't to smack her with someone's penis and say "Bitch, you're in the medical program of a pretty fucking fantastic school. Obviously you're not a moron so stop acting like it and stop setting back the feminist movement. Thanks. Bye". *Thwap* (That was the sound of the dick smacking her cheek. )

So all I wanted to do last night was go out with my girlfriends, have stupid men who think buying a chick drinks is a surefire way into her pants order me up some tasty beverages and relax. But no, that wouldn't be a proper ending to the week that wouldn't end. Nope, Walsh decided to make a surprise appearance at MY bar with his brother and a few friends. Of course he tried playing it coy for about an hour. Notice I said TRIED. Yeah, he wasn't so covert while he was practically staring a hole into the back of my head. He even pulled the junior high classic move, staring at a chick and when she turns around and actually SEES you looking at her you quickly turn away and pretend like you weren't. It's a classic.

So I've established he's a stalker.

Tonight Kiki, Claire and I have decided to invite ourselves to our friend Seth's bachelor party. We've talked about it for weeks and I'm pretty sure he thinks we're joking. We're not. We're going.

2006-11-27T11:42:00.000-08:00

Nothing much has changed in the few months since I had seen my family.

My mother is still wanting me to marry the first man who'll have me. She's still reminding me my birthday is only a few months away and that I'm not getting any younger. She's also reminding me (the med student) that I only have a limited number of eggs and every month another one bites the dust...a baby that could have been.

My dad still has wicked IBS and is still making hourly trips to the bathroom where he camps out for a good 20 minutes "reading" the Maxim mags he's hidden from my mother.

My brother is still married to a heinous, dirty bitch who still complains about how her family does everything "different" (aka BETTER).

My OTHER is still half the woman I am. Muahahahahahaha.

4 1/2 days is too long to be with my family, all under one roof with food cooking. It's too much.

A weekend recap:

* My mom was supposed to pick me up from the airport but forgot. So she made me wait in the airport for another 3 hours until my brother's plain got in.

* She made porkchops, a food I absolutely abhor, so I was forced to eat a Hot Pocket that I'm pretty sure has been sitting in the very back of their fridge for no less than 5 years.

* When I got the shits from said expired Pocket she made me vomit from the ass in the basement bathroom (which isn't completely finished yet) because she didn't want me "stinking up the entire house with your bowel movements".

* My mom woke me up at 5:00am Thursday morning to run to the grocery store and go on a hunt for some freak ass brand of bread that apparently is so rare even Jesus himself couldn't find it.

* My OTHER dropped the stuffing and blamed it on me. I then was reminded how irresponsible I am. Apparently 90 cent Stove Top Stuffing is the muthafuckin holy grail and can't be trusted to the likes of me.

* The turkey was dry and when no one was stuffing themselves with it my mom cried in the bathroom for a good 15 minutes before reminding all of us that she gave birth to us and we should be more grateful for all of her sacrafices.

* My dad clogged the toilet because I'm pretty sure he shit out a whole turkey. His ass gave birth to it. So we had to call a plumber who couldn't come until Friday morning and then had to charge out the ass (pun intended).

* The women of the household went shopping, braving the crowds of angry housewives and old ladies. My mother literally grabbed a toy out of a child's hands and then ran away before anyone could beat her thieving ass.

* Patrick called Kiki Friday night to find out if I was in town because he and his brothers were going to go to my favorite bar and he didn't want to risk a run in.

* Walsh called me 5 times and sent me 3 text messages and an email wanting to know if we could hang out while he was in town for the weekend.

* He then sent me a nasty email telling me I'm being immature for ignoring him.

2006-11-20T09:00:00.000-08:00

I have been called a slut at least 5.7 million times just in the last, oh, 8 years or so. When I was younger, really until I got into my 20's, it really hurt my feelings. I've always had a ball busting attitude but when someone called me a slut or a whore I would honestly feel bad about myself. I'd wonder if maybe I was too flirty. If I'd kissed too many boys. At one point I even went on a kick where I was bound and determined to find out what was the "normal" amount of sexual activity for a girl my age to be having. Of course it was then that I discovered that as a whole our country is one big slutbag and what might be "normal" is still a rather hefty number.

The funny thing is, back then I was a good girl. Now granted, I had sex but mostly i was a make out bandit. The year following my first kiss I made out with 23 different guys that I can actually remember. I loved to kiss. That was my thing and it still kind of is. Is there anything better than a great kiss?

By the time I was settled into college I stopped worrying about the labels people would put on me for being outgoing and liking men. I started to be more honest with myself and as a result I ended up having a lot more fun in ALL aspects of my life, not just my sex life.

It's funny how many guys will call you a tramp when you dump them. The very ting they liked most about you is the very thing they throw back in your face when it's all over. You have no idea how many walking penises have called me a slut after I told them they wouldn't be getting inside my pink coochie walls anymore.

So what's the difference between a slut and a woman who is just sexually open?

I guess it's like anything else. Everyone has their own version of the definition. To me, a slut is someone who goes around and has sex with anyone who's willing to slip her the hot beef injection. A slut has sex for attention and for love. She does it because that's the only way she knows how to feel desired and good about herself. She has no standards and most of the time doesn't get a great deal of joy out of the situation. It's more a mental thing than a sexual thing. See, I can be Dr. Phil.

To me there's a vast difference between those who have sex to fix their broken innereds and those of us who really enjoy sex ALOT and want to have it as often as possible. There are standards, there are rules, there are understandings and we know how to tell the difference between pure lust and something more. We can have sex without it having to be some poetic thing. Sex sometimes can just be sex and it can be great and it doesn't have to mean anything more than that.

On that note I didn't have any sex this weekend. Everyone was thinking I was going to go out and straddle the first face that smiled at me, but I didn't. Mostly because I was tired this weekend and because during what little time I did spend out on the town I didn't meet any guy that was worthy of what my vag has to offer.

It's almost Thanksgiving and I have to make the sad little trek to my parent's house. I leave Wednesday night and won't return until Sunday morning. Can you feel the excitement through the screen? Can you?

Like the 90210 Walsh's, this one has been cancelled

2006-11-17T08:05:00.000-08:00

I liked the arrangement I had with Walsh. It was about as close to relationship perfection as I can personally get right now. He's attractive, funny, good in bed, has great taste in music and obviously great taste in women. He wasn't too romantic and gooey, but he also had moments where he could make me feel like a big faggy mushy centered girl. He lives 2 hours away so I only had to see him on the weekend which meant there was only enough time for eating, fucking and generally having a good time. No room for bullshit. We didn't have enough time together to find things we hate about eachother. 2 days out of the week I had someone that would fuck the ever loving shit out of me and make me see God and then he'd go home and I could go about my life not worrying about him.

But all good things must come to an end and nothing is ever as perfect as we want it to be. Or rather, usually one person's idea of perfection doesn't exactly fit someone else's.

Apparently Walsh thought it would be a good idea to call me last night, just about 24 hours before he's supposed to be sticking his dick in my mouth and pulling my hair, to discuss "where we are". Of course me being the constant smart ass I had to say something along the lines of "Well, I'm at home...where do you THINK you are? Have the aliens come back?" Usually my endless wit would make him laugh but not last night. No last night he was in full on serious mode, a side of most people that makes me want to kick puppies.

He asked if we were just dating, fucking, just friends who fucked, a full fledged couple. I told him I hadn't thought about it because I don't think about those things.

Then he asked if we could, should or were seeing other people. I told him I wasn't, that I didn't know what "should" was supposed to mean, and that I didn't really care if he wanted to go out and date other chicks...as long as he wrapped that bad boy up. He trapped me. He pulled one of those tried and true girl moves where they ask you a question and they say they want honesty but really they already have their version of the right answer in their head. And if you don't give it to them they freak out.

He didn't really freak out psycho girlie style but he did ger upset.

"Maybe this whole long distance thing isn't going to work."

"Why? It's working fine for me" - yes, I'm insensitive...whatever...

"I guess I didn't think it through when we started. Or maybe I didn't think it would get this far."

"You mean last this long? Because honestly we're in no different 'relationship' (insert the actual gagging sound I made here) position than we were when we first decided to do this."

"That's the problem."

***Silence***

"Sooooo....you're not coming out here this weekend?"

"Probably not."

"Ok, well...I don't know what else to say here. I want you to come out here but if you're looking for a girlfriend I'm not going to make you very happy. Honestly all I want is what we've been doing the past few weeks. If that's not cool with you then we're done here.".

***Silence***

"Are you pouting?" ***silence*** "Ok, bye."

And then I hung up. Yeah, I was kind of an asshole But come on! Is it such a bad thing to want a no-strings attached "relationship" with someone I enjoy being around small amounts of time? I didn't have to worry about running into Walsh at a bar or at the store when I didn't want to see him. I didn't have to worry about him calling me and wanting to hang out on a night when I just wanted to veg the fuck out. We had the ideal situation and he had to ruin it by getting all emo on my ass.
What has happened to men? Give me a caveman from the Geicco commercials. Those assholes know how to treat a lady!

On a completely seperate note I'm trying to get my blogroll in order. So if you'd like to be linked on my profile, leave a comment and let me know. If I barely know you or glance at your blog and decide you're boring I'm not going to add you. Yeah that's just the honest truth. But you can try to win my affection over anyway.

Hump Day

2006-11-15T08:03:00.000-08:00

For any new stalkers out there who might not be familiar with the way The Steph does shit around here I will explain. I'm a giver. I'm right up there with Mother Theresa. Except I don't care about the poor, blond or less fortunate. I just care about the people who are in awe of my greatness. And I want to keep those people happy. Sadly I can't go giving out reach arounds across the internet and I can't lick carpet from thousands of miles away.

Instead I try to get everyone involved by doing a few "theme" days during the week. On my old blogger account it was Funny Caption Fridays. I think I might bring those back at some point once I get back into blogging on a regular basis again. For now I do Hump Days where I bring up a topic and everyone tells a funny story or let's us into the naughty part of their brains.

With that said...Happy Hump Day!

Today's question for the huddled masses yearning....
What's one thing that turns you on or you find attractive that other people might think is a little weird?

OR, if you don't have one for that and are completely normal....

What one thing turns you on more than anything else?

On another note...my mud butt has subsided. The pork made a rough and dirty exit but now it's finally gone for good. No more vomitting out of my asshole.

Can someone please tell the 2 season ago Nicole Richie wannabes that UGGS are out? Seriously I'm tired of seeing 12 year olds who haven't even gotten their boobies yet walking around in 30 degree whether with mini skirts and those fucking UGGS boots. It's cold and you don't have any pubic hair to keep you warm. Wear a sweater and some pants bitch.

Shittacular

2006-11-13T13:19:00.000-08:00

Walsh came to see me this weekend, though he had to forego his usual Friday- Sunday afternoon stay. We had to settle on Saturday afternoon- Sunday morning instead. I thought it would be a good idea to try out a new BBQ restaurant a few blocks away from my house. Saturday night. Really we just needed some kind of cushion for all the drinking we planned on doing. (it was $2.50 shot night at a bar I frequent....And I got paid on Friday. Ohhhhhh yeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaahhhhh).

The BBQ pork sandwich was an enormous mistake that I am still regretting.

I don't know if I got food poisoning so just a major case of the BBQ shits but it was ugly. I started feeling kind of sick towards the end of the meal but decided to push through and figured getting something else in my tummy (i.e. mass quantities of alcohol) would make me feel better....or at the very least would numb me right up.

Nope. Apparently shots of vodka and bad pork don't go together. Who knew?

I had to take a splatter shit in a public bathroom. A bar bathroom no less. And this bitch was a 6 wiper and a 3 flusher. It was hardcore. It looked like the first 10 minutes of Saving Private Ryan in that toilet.

Needless to say I needed to go home. I knew it was just the beginning of what was going to be a long and anally painful night. And because I'm an asshole I don't let Walsh stay over at my place intentionally because that's too "relationship"-esque for me so I sent his ass packing. He drove 2+ hours to see and have sex with me and all he got was some bad BBQ, a few drinks and the displeasure of having to listen to my trumpet ass on the car ride home.

2006-11-10T09:36:00.000-08:00

A MYSPACE REPOST

Some sexual pet peeves

- Shouting out names in the middle of sex. I've always found only creepy people repeat your name alot when they're talking to you. For example "Stephanie, how are you doing today? Would you mind handing me that piece of paper. Stephanie." These bottom feeding cave dwellers are usually close talkers and sometimes they smell like cheese and B.O. So when some guy starts saying my name in the middle of sex it sounds awkward and reminds me of every geeky IT tech I've ever had the misfortune of dealing with. Stick with the tried and true "oh baby's" and "that feels good".

- Socks and sex don't go hand in hand. You look like a fucking retard when you leave your socks on. The male body is about as ugly as a thing can get anyway. It's lumpy and hairy and even the most sculpted abs still look strange when they're just inches above a penis posing as a sun dial. So add gandpa white tube socks to the mix and there's all kinds of wrong and ugly going on.

- Trying out a new move during a one night stand. I'm all about new positions and switching things up. In case you couldn't figure it out I'm not a one position kind of gal. But when you're having a one night stand or when the relationship is purely sexual that's not the time to be trying out some new shit you haven't attempted before. That kind of thing takes a little coordination and practice, especially if it's a kinky and involved position with legs all over the place. That kind of thing is better suited for a relationship where you can practice and fuck things up royally without messing up the mood too much. If you're lucky enough to get some hot chick to go home with you, you need to come with your A game. Getting too ambitious will only leave you with blue balls and a bad rep.

- Men who watch too much porn. I love porn. I have a hefty collection that would make most teenage boys cry with glee. But I know too many men who watch porn all the time and they take that shit too seriously. They expect "real sex" to be like porn sex. Nope. Not gonna happen. Porn is like professional wrestling. It's all make up, lighting, fake storylines and a lot of acting. Most women aren't going to be that enthusiastic. Not everything you do is going to make her explode in screams fit for National Geographic. Sorry, you're not an orgasmic god. If we can't expect your penis to be 10 inches and look like a subway sandwich you can expect us to perform like a porn star.

- Women who fake it. Why? What purpose does it serve? You're only cheating yourself and the guy you're with. He'll think you're satisfied so he'll keep doing the same tired crap that obviously isn't getting the job down and you'll continue to lay there and let him fuck you with no reward at the end. I've faked it a few times, mostly so I didn't bruise an already fragile ego. And every time I was in a relationship and the guy I was with had gotten me to orgasm before. Every once in awhile is fine. But if every time you have sex with your partner and he's not making you climax and you pretend he is you're only teaching him to be a bad lay. And no one wants that.

2006-11-10T08:59:00.000-08:00

Ahhh....it feels good to be back. Back to the place where I lost my blog virginity. It was messy, even a little bloody and it hurt a little, but once I got started it felt so good I didn't ever want to stop.

So here we are again. Here's a little recap for anyone who missed out on the myspace blogs that took over my life for the last 6 months or so.

* I'm tooling away in med school. Yes, Steph was able to dupe people into believing she was smart enough to enroll in the medical program at a major university. Don't worry, I don't plan on being a proctologist or anything. Your assholes are safe...at least from my fingers and the prying eyes of tiny camera up in there.

* I'm still working at the lab, though because of my busy schedule with school I rarely have to interact with the jackoffs that like to refer to themselves as my coworkers. I pretty much get to stay in my little section of the lab, do my thing and go home. This makes me very happy because there are only so many smart Asian men I can deal with in one day before I start to lose my shit.

* Patrick got married. For those of you that don't know the Patrick story I'm not going to explain it to you. All you need to know is he was an ex of mine. Anyway, he's officially someone's husband. However before he tied the knot with the world's most annoyingly nice woman he and I had sex. Literally about 30 minutes before he walked down the aisle. And....I don't even care about it.

* I'm somewhat, sort of, in some small way dating a guy by the name of Walsh. He lives about 2 hours away and we only see eachother on the weekends. This just might be the perfect relationship for a committment phobic bitch such as myself.

So that about sums up my life right now. I'll probably so some reposts from my myspace blog.

It's the weekend bitches! Go get crazy!