Thursday, March 11, 2010

dear helen keller.

look how angry this fucking bitch is. thirteen pounds of pure menace. what the fuck does SHE have to be so miserable about? i wish I could luxuriate in a spacious cage with a panoramic hospital view, spreading myself out on an opulent pink towel fit for a queen, with my bathroom a mere two inches away! helen keller has a dutiful (i am also doody-full) servant who waits on her hand and foot, furnishing her with sumptuous foods and filtered water (for real) multiple times a day. she doesn't even have to dig out her own boogers or wipe her own ass! this bitch has $200 dollars' worth of fancy toys that she ignores, preferring instead to bite holes through my expensive socks and chew up my ipod cords. little asshole. hk gets top of the line medical care, swanky food, and free reign of casa sam. that is how her mean little face looks ALL THE EFFING TIME. why are you so pissed off, smelly helly?


she's so fucking jelly of everything i do. it's annoying. when i told her i was doling out advice on the internet, she gave me the side eye and was all, "what makes you think YOU are qualified?!" since i didn't have an answer for her (what the fuck do i know? i'm an idiot!), i decided to hand the reins over to her this time. watch out, though. her claws are sharper than mine. and kudos to me for my proper spelling and usage of both forms of the word rei(g)n. goddamn i'm awesome. well, maybe not. because i really tried to find some hilarious way to riff on the number 38, and i came up with nothing. oh well. they can't all be winners.

how do i get my new boyfriend to go down on me if he doesn't offer? he loves when i do it to him. i don't want to sound critical, but i need oral sex to climax.

helen just realized she doesn't have any thumbs, so she's going to let me handle these. oh, please. quit acting like you're disappointed.

so the best part of this question, OBVIOUSLY, is the part where she insists she "doesn't want to sound critical." well, bitch, then don't say anything! there, that was easy! you're an uncritical non-nag, and he's an oblivious asshat who STILL isn't eating you out.

i learned to be assertive in bed the second i realized how little dudes actually try/care/pay attention, which was the day i lost my virginity. sixteen years ago. (hahaha i'm not that old. sexpert!) sex is like mcdonald's or something. you wouldn't stand there silently staring at the menu (this is a stupid aside, but doesn't it kill you when the dick in front of you in line is all deep in thought about what to order? at MCDONALD'S?! they've offered variations on the same fucking things for fifty fucking years! just get a cheeseburger already! i like to get in and get out before anyone who knows me see my punk ass lathered in mcrib sauce, and you are holding my shit up!) while waiting for the bitch behind the counter to hand you whatever the fuck she feels like, would you? NO! you would tell her to give you a six piece nugget with sweet and sour and a shamrock shake (barf) and you would kindly pay her and leave, covered in grease and SATISFIED. that's how i treat sex, like the carryout menu at a fast food joint that's inevitably going to give me cancer.

"i'll have the cunnilingus to start, take an order of sucked toes as my appetizer, 2 pieces of dirty talk, a side of mouth sausage, spicy, and for my entree i'd like a doggystyle/vibrator combo platter that doesn't take longer than seven minutes. oh, and for dessert? i want you to get the fuck out of my house so i can go to sleep." and then i swipe my mastercard between his ass cheeks.

see? so simple even you could do it, with your dumb ass. and it tastes good, too, just like mcdonald's! or maybe it's like burger king? because i like to have it MY WAY.

sometimes my boyfriend's penis seems to hit something inside me when he thrusts during sex, and it really hurts. he is not that large. is there something wrong with me?

the only image that swam into my mind when i read this question was "vagina dentata." and now i can't get it the fuck out. i really can't. i just keep picturing this chick with a snatch full of metal, like an old toolbox or something. or maybe she's a fucking drug mule and there was one last bag of uncut cocaine that even the most dexterous of fingers couldn't reach, and now it's just floating around in there fucking everything up. or maybe it's an old diaphragm or nuvaring she was too busy for six months to take out. i suppose the only physiological response to this is "your cervix," but i can't figure out a way to make that funny.

OH WAIT. yes i fucking can!

what if this bitch is one of those women so delusional or fucked up or whatever that they have no idea they're pregnant until they sit down to take a shit and a little babyfriend falls out?! and this whore is trying to get her groove on while junior is trying to be born and shit. the little fetus is all, "aw, come on, mom! every time i pack my suitcases and try to wave goodbye to the womb your whore ass blocks the exit with mr. teeny peen! he already poked one of my fucking eyes out, bitch! LET ME OUT!" like "look who's talking," but sluttier. LOOK WHO'S FUCKING.

i have no problem reaching orgasm when i use a vibrator on my clitoris, but i can't seem to climax when i'm with my man. has using my toy made me dependent on mechanical stimulation?

no, using your toy has rendered the entirety of the human male population obsolete. vibrators are the reinforcement of why dudes have to buy you drinks and cook you dinner and shit. because they're otherwise useless. a vibrator, even the cheapest kind, can satisfy you sexually 100 times before some barely-evolutionized talking ape-like creature could. i don't know why men talk so much shit, because until they can make their dicks go back and forth at 500 rpm or whatever they REALLY SHOULD make sure they are nice and sweet and accomodating in every other possible way. fuck all this backtalk when i could just reach in my goody drawer and put you to shame in 37 seconds. now shut your mouth and go make me some nachos.

for my recent 30th birthday i bought myself a $250 silicone-encased piece of technological genius, also known as "the greatest vibrator in the history of (wo)man." it's like a fucking drone: sleek, silent, heat-seeking, and capable of blowing up an al qaeda terrorist cell from 10,000 feet above ground. also, it doesn't need a fucking MAN to pilot it.

during sex with my man, i sometimes fantasize that i'm with someone else. is this normal?

i can't imagine AT ALL why you'd need to do this. you mean knocking your forehead into the same raggedy balls for thirteen years isn't enough to keep your panties moist?

my boyfriend keeps asking me to talk dirty to him during sex, but i have no idea what to say. do you have any suggestions?

"why are you such a loser?"
"pick up the dry cleaning."
"sex with you is always SO unsatisfying."
"why didn't you take the garbage out?"
"my sister's boyfriend is so much smarter than you are."
"when are you going to get a better job?"
"your penis is small."
"my father still disapproves of you."
"when are we moving in together?"
"i think your best friend hates me."
"why don't you cuddle with me anymore?"
"i caught you looking at jenny's ass the other night at dinner."
"are you still in love with me?"
"what are you getting me for my birthday?"
"you DO remember when my birthday is, don't you?"
"want to come to my office party tomorrow?"
"i hate your friend greg."
"can you take my car in?"
"why do you snore so loud?"
"you've put some weight on."
"that cd you bought me totally sucks."
"is your family ever going to accept me?"
"when are you getting a haircut?"
"stop doing it so rough!"
"i feel like i might be falling out of love with you."
"where did you get those ugly shoes?"
"your half of the rent is overdue."
"does this nightie make me look fat?"
"you forgot toilet paper at the grocery store again, idiot."
"i think you're stupid."
"you make me sick."
"you ruined my life."
"i fucking hate you."

"WHY HAVEN'T YOU PROPOSED TO ME YET?!"

what exactly happens when a guy gets blue balls? or is this just a myth?

myth. this is bullshit some dude made up to try to trick a girl into letting him stick the tip in without buying her a sixpack and a burrito first. be strong. don't let him.

my guy wants to have sex while i have my period. i want to try it, but i'm worried about the mess. how should we go about it?

THIS IS MY FAVORITE THING EVER. you girls who haven't tried it are missing out on a delectable treat. having an orgasm while on your period is fanfuckingtastic. all you need is an old towel and a willing participant with a strong stomach. torean tried to ruin this for me by talking about how nasty it is for a fella to look down and realize that he's pulled out a clot but, as he so deftly pointed out, i care not for male pleasure. so fuck it! that's what paper towels and wet naps are for. (this is one of the many reasons i will never have sex with you, torean, and i know you think i'm kidding but i am not. unless you cut your hair and keep bringing me fancy soaps. whittle me down, soldier.) once you try it you'll be HOOKED, i swear. and instead of dreading those five grouchy/crabby/painful days, you'll circle them with hearts on your calendar. who cares if the dude isn't into it? sister, this is about US. (just masturbate. it works a lot better, anyway, and talks A LOT less.)

here's a free tip: if he's REALLY squeamish, just tell him he just popped your cherry. works every time.

my boyfriend wants to have sex in crazy positions with the lights on, but i'm ashamed of my body and don't want him to see every detail of it. we've been having sex in the dark, but he wants to see everything. what should i do?

RESIST. now i'm no advocate of shame, but i am 100% dedicated to enjoying myself in the presence of a hot human male. which i might not be able to do if i'm all worried about his close inspection of all my jibs. plus i have that weird three-tone black person skin. quit playing like you don't know what i mean! it ranges from applesauce to peanut butter to milk chocolate, depending on where you're looking. and i can't be preoccupied with all my various moles and IV scars when i'm getting busy. i like to save that shit for my mean-ass doctor's scrutiny. so tell him he can turn the lights on if you can put him in a blindfold. SOLVED.

i want to try lube during sex, but i'm not sure how to use it. help!

this question makes me feel uncomfortable, like it MUST have been submitted by a fourteen year old girl or something. because who the fuck other than some dumb kid would be starting forest fires in her bedroom dry fucking? seriously, tell me who. what ADULT? and lube is probably the MOST INTUITIVE SEXUAL ACCOUTREMENT ON EARTH. what could there possibly be to figure out? squirt it on your dehydrated parts and keep fucking.

this bitch has to be in the ninth grade. so i have to change my damned answer. PUT THE PENIS DOWN AND PICK UP YOUR ALGEBRA BOOK. save some welfare for the rest of us. i'm going to be old soon.

this may sound silly, but how do i give my guy a really good hand job?

god, i'm so lazy. this is the most tiring of the non-sex sex acts, and the one i perform with the least regularity. it's boring, and i can't concentrate. i always want to turn the tv on or whatever. and my fucking biceps hurt afterward. plus, who likes all that hand chafing? in other words, there is no such thing as a "really good handjob." unless you're fucking around with a teenaged boy. then to that i say, "you go, girl!"

my boyfriend has little bumps on his penis. they aren't discolored or pus-filled, and they don't hurt him if i touch them. is this normal, or should i be concerned?

i feel bad for a dude in a situation like this, and i make it a point to NEVER feel bad for a dude. but if some guy pulled a salty pretzel rod out of his pants and was like "don't worry about all these dry, flesh-colored bumps and lesions" i'd be like, "we should just be friends." to get in my bed he would really need to show me twelve negative STD screens, a letter from a GP and a dermatologist, and have an approval stamp from the surgeon fucking general and the FDA. an even then i'd be all "aidsaidsaidsaidsherpesherpesaidsaids" every time i touched it. ew.

is there any way a guy can know whether or not a girl is a virgin when they have sex? does she always bleed if it's the first time?

jesus, i HOPE not. otherwise there are a few dudes reading this right now who totally are about to get their feelings hurt. dudes pop a HUGE boner when they think they're your first. and who am i to shatter some tender young man's illusions? i like to keep a bunch of little fake blood packets (you know, like the ones wrestlers use) around and i put one in right before a hot dude comes over. then i cry and shiver and act all scared while he lights candles and puts on a mylie swift brothers cd before cooing at me in his most soothing tones, telling me how beautiful i am and how he'll be really careful and try to make sure it doesn't hurt. nevermind that the sex is like throwing a hot dog down a hallway, as soon as that little blood vessel bursts and his deflowering dream comes true an angel get its wings. i'm like mother theresa or something over here.

what's a fetish, and how does someone develop one?

a fetish is when you sexualize an inanimate object, right? this question is for a behavioral psychologist, not an asshole with a vagina blog. one of my new most favorite people in the universe is this supersupersuper hot black dude who runs a foot fetish website for dudes into african-american feet, and i am FASCINATED by that. my personal experience with fetishy dudes included, i think this weirdo shit is hilarious and so great. it tickles me to no end to think of some dude crouched over his laptop beating off to a picture of ashy brown toes. i'm waiting for my man to ask me to squash some blueberries or pop some balloons with my bare feet while he photographs it. i'd do that shit for free!

feetishes.com, bitches. go give john some money.

i often have sexual fantasies about women. does this mean i'm gay?

no, joining a softball team or owning a carhartt jacket makes you gay. oh, just kidding. i fucking love lesbians. without them, who would put together all my ikea furniture and caulk my tub and shit? i have an assload of lesbians in my arsenal. it's awesome because they're girls, so i can talk to them about menstrual cycles and 100 calorie packs or whatever ridiculous shit it is women talk about, but then they can move furniture or kill termites, too. and every single lesbian i know is ten times more handy than any dude. want your windows weatherproofed? call a lesbian. need to frame and hang a painting? call a lesbian. want a split-level ranch house built from the ground up in less than a week? call two lesbians. for real. that shit will have marble counters and laminate flooring and everything. so keep dreaming about ladies, lover. and can you run to home depot for me later? i know you know where everything is.

the other day, my guy moaned another girl's name in bed. he got embarrassed and told me that it was a woman he'd seen in a porn movie and he wasn't sleeping with anyone else. maybe it's stupid of me, but i believe him. what do you think?

that you're fucking stupid. this is where twitter and facebook really come in handy. because you assholes are too sloppy and cavalier with your social networking shit, so if he said "kelly," you can look through all of his friends and/or followers and figure out who the fuck this bitch is. personally, i would never talk to this dude again. also? this is why one should refrain from saying ANYONE'S name in bed. too fucking dangerous. if a dude asks you "whose is this?" say "MINE" and keep rolling. i did too many drugs as a child, and now i'm on too many adult ones to undergo a fucking standardized test while i'm just trying to get off.

"'whose is this?' bitch, is that a rhetorical question?" i'd ask. "do i get a multiple choice? can i use one of my lifelines?" i would do absolutely anything to avoid yelling out the wrong damn name. mortifying. i cannot even imagine what i'd do if this happened to me, but "believe him" is certainly not one of them. end this immediately.

my boyfriend and i live together, and he's a sweet guy. but when i ask him to do, say, the laundry, he'll be like "no problem," and then never do it. i'll ask again, and he'll say, "i'll get to it." after a few days, i just do it myself. what's his problem?

you're his fucking problem. and, um, he's probably not that sweet a guy.

this TOTALLY underscores every single reason i have for not wanting to get married. because it's like having a child. a child who is your own age who's probably too strong for you to spank or sit in a corner. every bitch i know with a boyfriend spends HALF HER WAKING HOURS bossing that dude around. no and thank you. ugghh. and i don't blame them, i just can't do that. have you ever been to a single male's spotless, comfortable, well-stocked apartment? yeah, bitch, ME NEITHER. dudes sleep on futons propped up with books and have dirthy bathtubs and have only mayonnaise and beer in their refrigerators. if i wanted something to train i'd get a dog.

but eventually i'll need to find someone who wants nothing more than to change my diapers and scrub my dentures for the rest of his life, so i better practice my bossing.

SIT. STAY. DOWN. SHUT UP. COME.

my boyfriend wants us to go to a strip club together because he thinks it'll be really fun and sexy. my friends think it's a bad idea. what are your thoughts on it?

oh yeah, i TOTALLY LOVE watching (poor/undereducated/neglected/abused) women degrade and humiliate themselves to entertain and assuage some fuckface dude. i get so wet watching young women shame their parents and debase themselves, contracting hpv and herpes and hepatitis while grinding their bare vaginas all over a filthy floor or germy, nasty pole. and you know what really gets me off? gross and dirty dimly lit rooms packed full of leering, sweaty dudes with hard-ons trying to talk some nineteen year old girl with meth face, bullet wounds, and three children under four into the back seat of his wife's subaru. makes me want to take my panties right off. fucking go for it. then go home and JUST TRY to get that miserable little girl's face out of your mind while you have sex in those ten-inch lucite heels your compassionate and considerate boyfriend got for you.

dudes can do whatever they want. women who participate in the demoralizing objectification of other women make me want to choke somebody. and DON'T EVEN START with that bullshit about it being "empowering." because i want you to find me ten, scratch that, TWO women with decent childhoods and college degrees and a reasonably healthy sense of self worth who are stripping professionally just for the empowerment of it.

go on, now. I'LL WAIT.

i love my boyfriend, but i do not get along with his best friend. in fact, we hate each other so much that we've gotten into screaming matches in front of people. i really see a future with my guy, so i want to smooth things over. how should i go about it?

why bother? i don't believe in all this "everyone has to be friends with everyone" business. i don't sleep with your friend, so why do i have to like him? he's some other bitch's problem. i don't have to talk to him or look at him or listen to him if i don't want to, because he doesn't get to put his penis inside me. so if he sucks a whole lot, NO BIGGIE. hang with your own buddies. (ps, if my homeboy's friend deigned to SCREAM at me IN PUBLIC and boyfriend did nothing to address that disgraceful, unconscionable, INDEFENSIBLE behavior, there would be zero future with that dude. wholly infuriating. and infuckingtolerable. i would NEVER stand for it.)

when my boyfriend and i got together, he promised me that he would stop talking to his ex. but recently, his cell phone bill was on his coffee table, and i saw that he'd made a few calls to baltimore, where his ex now lives. they were short calls, but still! how can i confront him about this?

this is why you can't look through people's shit. because those of us with huge imaginations go all crazy concocting stories and scenarios and getting all wound up about nothing. i mean, really. he was calling baltimore. he was probably arranging a hit or a drug deal or something. quit worrying about how to confront him and start watching your back while walking home in the dark.

what's the proper etiquette when it comes to paying on dates? my feeling is, the guy should pay for the first three dates, and then i'll pick up the tab on the fourth. some of my friends think you should take turns. what do you think?

dude pays until you sleep with him. then, based on his performance, you can decide whether or not to start splitting the check. you know, if the sex is jamming. that considered, the answer to this question, in most cases, is a resounding NEVER. dudes are the worst.

after a wild night out with my friends, i wound up going home with this hottie. we didn't have sex, but we fooled around all night. the next morning, i woke up totally embarrassed to be naked in bed with a stranger. luckily, he was really sweet about the whole thing, and we spent the next couple of hours talking. he turned out to be a great guy, so i gave him my number, but i have yet to hear from him. i'm afraid it's because he's written me off as slutty. is there any way i can explain to him that i'm not normally like that and see if we can possibly start over?

i'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but "HUGE WHORE" is what you're normally like. were you on serious medication? had you recently suffered a mental collapse of some sort? did your mom just die? had you been newly lobotomized? were you abducted by aliens? because if the answer to these questions is NO, then this is who you REALLY ARE. sorry, trick. and once a dude gets to part your meat curtain, there really is no such thing as "starting over." what, he's going to forget that he eff'd you?

call me when you have your do-over date, would you please? i want to sit at the table next to yours and watch you try to make conversation with a dude who already had you bent over an air hockey table. the only reason they listen to all the stupid shit we say is to get to the NAKED part. "listen, brother, i know i already let you put your big toe in my butthole, but tonight i thought we'd just sit and hold hands while i tell you about being bullied as a teenager." pshaw. not fucking happening. start over with somebody else.

recently, i went out with a guy who kept telling me about all the cool restaurants he wanted to take me to, and he even invited me out to his beach house for a weekend. but then he never called me again. why would he go on and on about future plans if he wasn't actually going to follow through?

i'm going to guess "because you fucked him." before he could do all that great stuff for you. i'm going to let you in on a little-known medical secret: when a man ejaculates in, on, or near a woman, any promise he made to that woman and hasn't already fulfilled drains right out of his penis. did you hoes know that?! i saw it on the discovery channel the other night! explains a lot, doesn't it? and that's why i hold out. not to be mean, but to make sure dudes aren't selling wolf tickets. i want to go to japonais, dammit!

have you ever tried to talk a dude out of sex once you've had it with him? next to impossible. "why do we have to go out, baby, when we could just stay here and make looooove?" (barf!) a bitch has no recourse if she's already done it, and has to resort to coaxing, prodding, and begging to get him into some suitable clothing and out of the goddamned door. that's why you have to go everywhere you ever want to go and eat everything you ever want to eat BEFORE you give up the chonies, because it will never happen without a ten-round bout AFTER.

my boyfriend has started asking me questions about my friends’ sex lives. it started when i told him a funny story about one of their escapades, and now it’s out of hand — he even uses it as foreplay. how can i make him stop?

i try not to even introduce a dude to any of my friends, lest he 1 make a giant fucking retarded ass of himself (and me, by circumstance) and embarrass the shit out of me by saying something dumb as hell, or 2 make a pass at her or say something inappropriate. also, my friends' brains are much too small to keep track of who i have a crush on or am trying to get down with or whatever.  "is that the one who plays the guitar?" "no, wait a minute, is that the one who cried after sex?" i like someone new every thirty-five minutes.  it's too overwhelming. plus, dudes are SO GROSS. anything you tell them about something sexual remains on constant repeat at the forefront of their miniscule brains. want to know how many times "the krispy kreme story" is referenced to me by some dingaling who read that blog? A BILLION. maybe not, but close enough. i have a hot date with a SUPER HOT PIECE this weekend, and yesterday he texted me "i want to watch you eat food naked." but i can't even get mad, because hoes read this blog and love this shit and if i wanted that story to be a secret i shouldn't put it on the goddamned INTERWEB. so this one is your own fault. it's only a matter of time before you're telling your next boyfriend another hilarious story. you know, the one about how you caught your ex-boyfriend fucking your slutty friend. dummy.

(my text in response?! "i'll bring the donuts." ahahahahahawhore.)

i'm slightly overweight, and while i do date (i actually just started seeing a guy), i've never been picked up in a bar. but lately, i've noticed guys checking me out, and my friends have agreed with me. is it possible i've suddenly become eye candy?

well bitch, you can thank precious for this one. FAT IS BACK, baby. in a BIG way! fat is the new black, and maybe that's why fat black people are getting our sweaty moment to bask in the golden, buttery sun. when i saw that bitch roll out on the red carpet at the oscars the first thing i thought was, "thank 1987 oprah, our time has FINALLY arrived!" no, i didn't. the FIRST first thing i thought was, "damn, lane bryant makes evening gowns now? I NEED ONE."

i'm proud of that fat bitch. i was sitting at home glued to the television with my plump little breakfast sausages crossed, hoping like hell to see her sashaying across my 19 inch screen wrapping those michelin arms around a little gold statuette before taking him home and throwing him in a pot of greens. it's about time we got some goddamned recognition. i wanted her to jiggle her belly (like a bowl full of jelly) and declare, "this is for every fat black mammy or sassy sidekick ever stereotypically portrayed on some racist movie screen." then she would dab the crisco from her brow and drop it like it's hot, or whatever black people do in da club these days.

"while i do date..." SIGH. i feel bad for white people sometimes. the chubby ones, at least. because a fat black bitch would NEVER have to acknowledge that, despite her gargantuan proportions, she does actually go out on dates. i've never been skinny a day in my life, and i've been on more dates than all of you put together. that's why being black is AWESOME. because black dudes don't give a shit about a big old black ass. now that could explain why i have never been asked out by a white dude other than patrick, but if you don't want me, I DON'T WANT YOU. so fuck it. i would never be like, "i'm going to lose fifty pounds so this dude will be into me." nope. i'm going to lose 175 pounds of dumbass dude and move on to the next one, a handsome devil who won't mind that my stomach fold smells like doritos.

so i don't know, bitch. maybe white men are finally waking up. there are a lot more roseannes than there are giselles running around, so their palates might be changing to reflect the times? who knows. or MAYBE you mistakenly walked into a black club! did they wand you and check your purse before they let you in? could your male friends wear gym shoes and baseball caps? did it smell like harold's chicken and polo ralph lauren? did you see a lot of gold chains? was the yaki weave to natural hair ratio 50:1? how much apple baby dereon bottom phat was represented? what were the drink specials, alize and nuvo? was everyone inside wearing sunglasses and talking on a prepaid cell phone?!

my boyfriend often asks my permission to do things in bed, and i hate it! i want him to take charge and get creative, so how can i convince him to boink outside the box?

i can't answer this. because you used the word "boink." sorry, but it goes against my ethics. next! no, i will say ONE thing: when they don't ask your permission it's called RAPE. stupid.

this may sound weird, but i hate it when my boyfriend compliments me during sex. like, he'll say my O face is really hot, but that just makes me self-conscious. or he'll say he loves grabbing my butt, but he'll do so in a way that makes it sound big. can i somehow train him to compliment me in different ways?

omfg. bitch, what is wrong with you?! "he compliments me wrong?!" WHAT?! this kind of shit makes my stomach hurt. you're a moron. because unless he's saying, "hey, wide load, i love the way your cottage cheese thighs slap together when i'm tapping that ass," it can't really be all that goddamned bad. and even that's not so unforgiveable. i mean, there are worse things, right? he could be pointing or laughing or writing about your shortcomings in his hilarious and widely-read blog.

and maybe your butt SOUNDS big because it IS big. go get on a treadmill or something.