Wednesday, June 29, 2011

butt sex, nba finals.

why do guys distance themselves when they are going through something? (eg, family issues, work stress) why do they disappear then resurface once everything is good?

WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH WOMEN? i'm not just being an asshole; seriously, what is wrong with you? this, to me, sounds like the most perfect thing ever: a hot dude (i'm feeling generous today) who only wants fun times and goes the fuck away when he's got life drama going on?! sign me up, please. i'm guessing that this broad is from the school of "sharing problems will bond us and make us closer," and everyone knows that is bullshit. anytime i let a dude tell me his silly problems i 1 get majorly BUMMED OUT and 2 regret it almost immediately. first of all, i don't really get heartbroken about draft picks or video games, and those are pretty much the only things dudes ever really get upset about. and second, i'm a reciprocal kind of person, and i ALREADY KNOW a man's eyes are going to glaze over the minute i say any words other than, "butt sex," "NBA finals," or "the pizza man is here," so i am for sure NOT going to listen to him carry on about whatever is bothering HIM. i want to fuck a robot who can't talk and doesn't have any feelings. i mean, right?!

i want to get a pin up girl tattoo on my side. my friends all say it's a bad idea but i'm going to anyway, it's my choice. but they say guys won't want to date me because of it. would potential boyfriends be okay with it?

okay, so i have a shitload of dumb, aggressive-looking tattoos. a bunch of tribal garbage on one arm and my chest, and i'm 3/4 of the way done with a forearm sleeve full of cholo and biker shit: reapers and mean-ass black and grey death skulls, etc. by the end of the summer i'm adding to it this RIDICULOUS roaring lion and another flaming skull straight out of the tenth circle of hell, shading the empty spaces, and getting some california vato lettering. in other words: i'm tatted up like a dude who drives a budweiser truck, yet i occasionally enjoy having sex with men. CRAZY. which is why i buy leopard-print bras, i guess, and maybe why i'm wearing so many dresses this summer. i don't know, i feel like nowadays everyone including your grandmother has a goddamned tattoo, and any dude who wouldn't date you because of it isn't the kind of judgemental asshole you want to be fucking anyway. chicks with tattoos are foxy and dangerous. at least i hope so, otherwise i'm going to need a bunch of fucking skin grafts if i want to get laid ever again.

you know who gets shitty about tattoos? HATING-ASS BITCHES. i can't stand still for more than a minute without a dude appearing from out of thin air to ask, "hey, girl, who does your work?" while reaching for my arm and shit. it's women who typically turn their noses up and wonder aloud how i'm ever going to find a husband with all of this garish body art. assholes. so cover every inch of exposed flesh with whatever the fuck you want. just no goddamned tazmanian devils. them shits are a total bonerkiller.

why would a guy have sex and spend time with someone in his apartment but not ask her out for coffee, dinner, a movie, bowling, or SOMETHING?

because you banged him. simple as that. or he's broke. blame it on the economy, if you want, but if a dude knows he can get all in that ass without having to put a down payment on a chicken dinner, why would he go to the trouble of going to a restaurant and wasting his already late cell phone payment on your vagina? when you meet a new dude you have to hold out on banging him if you want him to buy you a latte or pay for your smelly rented shoes. i would fuck a dude five minutes after making his acquaintance because i'm 100% uninterested in a gentleman ruining any of my social or leisure activities, but if you really really REALLY want to explain the plot of inception to an erect hunk of sausage with a sub-human IQ in a dark movie theater, you can't let him see the inside of your goddamned apartment. i've run across a number of dudes of late who've tried to pitch the idea of an inside date to me: "cooking dinner at home" (ie, destroying my goddamned kitchen) before "watching a couple dvds" (ie, trying to put it in my butt). and my answer to that is no. that kind of shit is fucking boring if i've already known you for a while, but i have absolutely no interest in trying to get to know a dude while watching him get crumbs and outside dirt all over my duvet. and it's not about gold-digging; i make plenty of money and can buy my own drinks. it's just goddamned impossible to get a dude into pants with a zipper and out of the house unless you've already established that "in this relationship, WE GO PLACES." so this dude is a booty call, obviously. go to starbucks with your mother.

if a guy asks for advice on another girl, am i automatically in the friend zone?

oh, totally. that's usually how my stupid ass finds out, when some dude i have a crush on who i'm pretty convinced really likes me back for real is unexpectedly like, "hey sam, can i ask you something?" while staring deep into my slightly-crossed eyes smack in the middle of dinner. then my pulse quickens and my heart skips a beat and i sit up slightly taller in my chair. "of course you can," i say, trying to sound calm and sexy and not vomit with anticipation. i am probably also sweating, but i'm sure you already guessed. "nah, you're going to think it's dumb," he says, all bashful and cute. i move further to the edge of the chair, trying to remember the last time i brushed my teeth and hoping he won't be able to taste that i ate an entire bag of tortilla chips earlier when he inevitably kisses me after confessing his devotion. "I PROMISE I WON'T," i reassure him a little too aggressively, then dial my voice back. "you know you can tell me anything, silly." i think about placing my hand on his knee but reconsider; you know, THE SWEAT. he giggles shyly and i notice that he's blushing, "well, i'm not really sure how to say this, but..." by this point i'm panting and about to fall off the the chair. "yes...?" i gasp, trying to burn every detail of this monumental moment into my memory. i mean, the grandchildren will want to know the exact shade of blue he's wearing right now, WON'T THEY? is that cerulean or teal?! "this might be a little awkward, but, i was just wondering..." more shy hand-wringing and eye contact aversion, which i, of course, am interpreting as churning desire to be my boyfriend. OBVIOUSLY. "YES...?" i ask, with a touch more urgency in my voice, yet with enough restraint to not scare him off. he says, "would it bother you if i asked your friend out to dinner?" just as i'm shouting, "OH MY GOD I TOTALLY LOVE YOU, TOO!"
wait, what? "hold up, what did you s--" he starts as i cut him off, "OF COURSE YOU SHOULD. YOU GUYS WOULD BE MAGIC TOGETHER. I HEARD SHE LOVES GIVING BLOWJOBS," getting up quickly to try to hide the shame that's making my ears hot and play off that i just admitted to loving a dude who wants to fuck some dumb slut i met in 8th period biology sophomore year. "can i get you another beer?" and he'll say yes and never really ask me if i really meant what he thought he heard me say and we'll spend the rest of our lives pretending that whole messy thing never happened and being slightly uncomfortable around one another.

i am a terrible signal reader, so learn from my mistakes. if a dude really wants to bang you he'll try within minutes of meeting you, and the second he brings up another vagina to you your chances of anything other than a drunken pity fuck with him are zero. life sucks, and sometimes being friends with dudes is A TOTAL FUCKING DRAG. seriously, though, how do you know? i wish from jump people would just be honest about their intentions, like "hey girl, you're funny and everything but i don't want to touch your privates. want to go to a monster truck rally this weekend?" see, was that so fucking hard?! save me the trouble of asking my friends to decipher the tone of the seventeen texts you sent me this morning, okay FRIEND? sometimes friendship is already established, like we went to school together or i met him through some girl he was banging therefore he's off limits to me. but most of the time i don't figure out an overly friendly dude isn't into me until i find out he's into someone else, and i have to pretend to be enthusiastic about listening to him wax romantic over some dumb, unfunny asshole. there are advantages to the friend zone, though. MOVING HELP.

i met a guy, we hit it off, he asked for my number, and i never heard back. what is that? should i ask him out or am i wasting my time?

not to be a hater, but you're wasting your time. a couple weeks ago i was going through the initial texting/calling/emailing motions with this super hot dude and all of a sudden i stopped hearing from him, so i erased his number from my phone and guess what? he never called me again! back in the old days my benefit of the doubt would've prompted me to dial his number after two days AND CREATE AN EXCUSE FOR HIM, pathetic me on the voicemail: "hey there! i'm sure you're probably really busy and forgot how you said we should go get a beer sometime, so i'm just calling to see if you still maybe wanted to do that?", but now i just delete his shit and go back to whatever is on HBO. if you have to remind a dude you exist it doesn't make you feel good, especially when he calls back and still doesn't make concrete plans. here's how mine went: text text text call call text call promise to show up at my reading even though i hadn't asked him to NOTHING. deleted from phone. two days later a twenty-minute voicemail about how SORRY he is because he's so BUSY that my show SLIPPED HIS MIND and i'm just so important that i didn't bother to write down this thing i promised to do and omg i'm SO SORRY. if you start any sort of relationship on an apology, there's nowhere to go from there. c'mon, son. people are only as good as they behave in the very beginning, myself included. that first couple weeks i'm shaving my legs and making elegant rice-a-roni dinners, then the minute i think a dude might stick around for a while it's all pajamas and tacos and falling asleep in the middle of a blowjob.

any advice for a girl going to see her ex?

goddamn, this is treacherous territory. a veritable minefield of potential mistakes. last week i read at a spoken word set and this creepy dude i used to bang was there, but because 1 our ill-fated relationship ended a few years ago and 2 it wasn't a super-serious in love with you forever kind of soap opera drama i had no problem seeing his face and cordially saying hello. it also helps that he's unemployed and has no friends while i am currently THE TOAST OF THE MOTHERFUCKING INTERNET. (come on, play along.) if this is that kind of situation, ie one in which you're going to laugh in his face while you drop the ratty boxers and old tupac cassettes he left at your place when he moved out off at his mom's house because that's where he's staying now, then great. look totally amazing and remind him that he could still be putting his dick in you if he hadn't been such a dickbag about doing the laundry and taking out the recycling. but if you think you might 1 cry or 2 try to fuck him, just don't go. i only have one dude who could elicit such a response from me, and simultaneously AT THAT, so i don't see that dude ever. not ever. because i'm not a big fan of public tears. and i don't call him because abject phone humiliation is the absolute worst. i'm guessing that you're the DUMPED, because people who do the breaking up never sit around wondering how to act with the vulnerable shattered soul they know would still donate a kidney to them; they just arrange the meeting place and suggest the sex and imply the reconciliation. and then they break your little heart all over again when they feign innocence and say, "what do you mean get back together? i thought we were just having fun." this is your future, according to my crystal balls. so yeah, STAY HOME.

what are the chances of a serious relationship developing between a stoner and a straitlaced gal?

i guess it depends on how much you love eating doritos and doing nothing. most of my friends are potheads; they're nice to be around because they are affable and relaxed, and if you can pry them off the couch they'll usually go just about anywhere and be really sweet and laid-back wherever you go. especially if there's food there. bud is wasted on me, because if i smoke a bowl i will PASS THE FUCK OUT, but not before i've spent twenty minutes trying to convince myself that i'm not having a goddamned heart attack or that everyone i pass on the street can totally tell that i'm high. so i refrain. if you like not doing stuff and being late all the time, then go for it. date that dude with the crochet pants whoo giggles all the time! BUT. if you're going to be all, "rise and shine, smokey, get your butt up so we can be the first ones at the flea market!" you are going to be sorely disappointed. either you have to be happy sitting in semi-darkness and listening to whomever pitchfork says is hot right now on a record player for hours on end while discussing the linklater film that plays muted in the background, or you have to not fuck with a weed head. OMG all the circular talking! all of the bogus philosophizing! and they never have any money, EVER, yet they always manage to be high as fuck every time you see them. you can't take me to dinner, AGAIN, but you want to smoke me out and lay on my couch eating canned soup?! that shit is cute for approximately five minutes, then you remember that you actually enjoy putting shoes on and watching movies in an actual theater. oh, and having conversations with someone who can keep his goddamned eyes open.

how much of our problems can we unload to a guy?

NONE. they don't care. contrary to the misconception that all dudes require physical perfection, i think what we really need to recognize is that what the people you're fucking REALLY want is for you to be bullshit perfect, ie drama free. unless you're super smoking hot. everyone has problems and situations, for sure, and NO ONE WANTS TO HEAR ABOUT THAT SHIT. a dude would much rather deal with your cottage cheese thighs (maybe) than listen to yet another story about how things between you and your stepmother have been super tense ever since she re-did the kitchen and sent your little brother to boarding school. totally boring woman problems. your friends don't want to hear about that shit, either, but it's against girl rules to roll your eyes and yawn while your BFF is getting all emotional and shit, so you have to nod occasional and say, "omg!" or "for real?!" every time she pauses to inhale. i never tell a dude my problems, ever. and even if he pretends that he really wants to know how stressful your new job is, he doesn't. he just wants to make sure that you'll be done yapping on the phone to your sister by the time sprotscenter comes on. dumping all your problems on anyone other than a licensed therapist doesn't make you closer, it just makes a dude want to fuck some uncomplicated broad who knows how to keep her trap shut.

sometimes he likes me to be big spoon...weird.

spooning is a small person thing, yes? big people get hot, and tall people have too many limbs to contend with. in other words: GROSS. and touching without sex is pointless, right? god, i'm totally a dude. blarf.