Wednesday, January 4, 2012

you need to stop fucking dudes who don't read.

happy new year, bitches. it's finally 2012, and i fully expect to be as salty and miserable as i was last goddamned year. life only gets worse, right? i'm about to turn 32 in a month and i have no idea what in the fuck a "kreayshawn" is. i also don't know how to use spotify. i have a desktop computer. i listen to cassettes sometimes. i put orthotics in my gym shoes. i still say "gym shoes." i take potassium supplements. i enjoy how effortless it is to eat lukewarm soup. i own compression socks. mtv is mostly irritating to me. everything, everywhere is too fucking loud. i bristle at the sound of laughing children. i put things in my bra for safekeeping. i clip coupons. i sleep at every available opportunity. i am the last person on earth who still gets netflix dvds IN THE GODDAMNED MAIL.

in other words, i'm getting old as hell. and so are you fools. i have friends who are, like, forty-seven and shit. and every passing year just becomes more of a reminder that i have no fucking idea what's cool anymore. and even if, like i do, you go on all the websites and read all the blogs you're still going to be standing on the train platform next to a motherfucker half your age who's twice as informed as you are. every day i live in fear that i'm going to be that asshole inappropriately dressed in some young shit while the kids make fun of me and hide my regularity medication. am i immature? ABSOLUTELY. i'm still sexting hot dudes and buying lunchables and diet coke instead of nutrient-rich dark green, leafy vegetables at the grocery store. i need to not go out every single night of the week and try harder to get to work on time. i shouldn't start all my sentences with "dude." but there's a difference between "emotionally stunted" and "hip."

i don't make resolutions because fuck that. my general operating system is "i'm perfect. why change?" and so far i've been pretty successful staying the goddamned same and getting rid of anything or anyone who finds himself unhappy with who that person happens to be. and at first that shit sounds unreasonable, but it really is the most realistic way to get through life. FOR ALL OF US. if you're a toxic fucking asshole, chances are that's how you'll remain unless a deathbed conversion forces you to get with the goddamned program. and that's fine, because there are plenty of damaged bitches with low self-esteem who hate themselves enough to keep your shitty ass around. and that works for the rest of us, too. change is hard, so instead of trying to be nice or thin or smart if the shit doesn't come naturally to you then fuck that. be mean and fat and dumb and find some motherfuckers who can deal with that shit.

that said, i most certainly DO make resolutions for the types of dudes i want to have sex with. keeping in mind that it is mostly impossible to meet an unsavory person and mold him or her to fit our demands and expectations, i have to look for motherfuckers who have some of my necessary criteria already intact. seriously, dudes, if i don't have the patience to train a dog i most certainly can't be bothered with trying to get a hard-headed dude to do what the fuck i want. so i have to buy him from the store pre-assembled and hopefully meeting all of my classifications. there totally needs to be a DUDE IKEA. someplace you can get this one's personality and that one's dick moves and that other one's generosity and sloppily cobble them together with an allen wrench for less than you'd pay for a venti americano to make the perfect mid-priced college dorm room first real apartment boyfriend. but since life is totally stupid that will never fucking happen, and i figured since this is our last year on earth i might as well update the man list so that we might be able to at least cut our teeth on choicer cuts of meat before the planet implodes and burns us all to a goddamned crisp.

THE 2012 MAN REQUIREMENT LIST:

1 BE MASCULINE AS FUCK. i'm sick and tired of whiny dudes eating salad while wearing girl jeans trying to talk to me about their motherfucking feelings. can we be done with that already? SHUT THE FUCK UP WITH THAT SOFT SHIT. i eat broken glass for breakfast, son. i have the heart of a lion and it pumps lava through my veins. it is simply NOT POSSIBLE for me to have enjoyable sex with a dude in his little sister's t-shirt who has shampoo blood and takes diet pills. i need some calloused hands against my backside, friends. if 2011 was the year of the baby-faced emo drinking his similac while rubbing his wilted penis into your thigh and calling you mommy, PLEASE OH PLEASE let 2012 be the year that men grow some fucking facial hair and and locate their motherfucking testicles AND FUCK THE SHIT OUT OF YOU IN A BED HE CHOPPED DOWN A TREE TO MAKE WITH HIS BARE HANDS. i want to know that a man with a deep voice who slaughters his own meat is not going to put up with any of my goddamned shit. i want to know that a bossy dude with a dick like a beer can isn't going to cry while getting a goddamned blowjob. we need some dudes who put their fucking foot down and are not going to tolerate any of that backtalk, little girl.

where all the real men at?! where are the motherfuckers who smell like whiskey and gasoline? where are the motherfuckers who climb up on the roof to fix shit? where are the motherfuckers who will shake a bitch when she gets mouthy? i don't want to fuck a dude who has a "hairstyle." i don't want to fuck a dude who has "emotions." i want a grizzly bear with a near-constant erection to boss me around and pay for shit while LOOKING LIKE A MOTHERFUCKING MAN. you want a skinny dude who weeps while listening to morrissey? i can't hate. but i'm not one of these broads that enjoys telling a man what to do. i want you to get your grown man on and already know what the fuck you need to do. where did all this moisture come from? single mothers deifying their now-intolerable husband-sons?! I'M OVER IT. get a mentor or join the boys and girls club and man the fuck up. then go build a fire, guzzle a scotch, eat a steak, and TELL ME WHAT I CAN DO WITH THIS SASSY LITTLE MOUTH.

2 read some goddamned books. not a sports page, not a magazine, A FUCKING BOOK. or some smart blogs. or a newspaper that isn't free. there are two important things to consider about books: 1 you have to have, at the very least, some basic level of intelligence to read a book from start to finish. comprehension doesn't come naturally to everyone, and if you know this asshole can follow a plot and invest in some characters then chances are he's not as stupid as he might look. if he can engage in a thoughtful, animated discussion about a book then you should slap a leash on that bald eagle and marry him before he has a chance to object. 2 i can't fuck with a dude who doesn't know how to occupy and entertain himself, and i've finally reached the age that "i watch television" just isn't enough. even if it's all masterpiece theater and nature documentaries, if a man can't sit his ass down somewhere and read some shit i don't want his penis near me.

people who read books have better imaginations and tend to have more intellectual curiosity than those who don't, and after that heady first few months of fucking without ever having a conversation and maybe getting some tacos once in a while you're eventually going to want to wake up next to a dude who can challenge your opinion on that jonathan franzen piece in the new mcsweeney's. men are boring. and six months from now you and that dude are going to be sitting across from one another at brunch without a motherfucking thing to talk about. and that's cool, but if he reaches for his game boy as you pull out your brand new copy of "the marriage plot" then, i'm sorry to break it to you, BUT YOU CAN'T HAVE SEX WITH THAT GENTLEMAN ANYMORE. video games in general don't bother me because i'm a big fan of "keeping quiet" and "leaving me the fuck alone while i'm talking to anna on the phone," and who can argue with the benefits of rapid-fire hand-eye coordination? but if he can't make it through a real book he and his xbox have to kick rocks. he doesn't even have to read good books; even the trash in the magazine aisle at walgreens will suffice. AS LONG AS HE READS IT.

3 he cannot live with his mother...
as elaborate and compelling as it may initially seem, the excuse he gives you for currently sleeping in the twin bed leftover from his youth is never really as good as you want it to be. i mean, if you can verify that she is an invalid and that he spends his every waking moment at her bedside tending to her care, maybe that's a good enough excuse. i said maybe. the likelier story is that he's comfortable. and his mama cooks for him and throws his laundry in the wash right after she finishes straightening his room. and she doesn't mind having him on her unlimited texting family plan. and, i know, he's saving money. pfffft. that "money he's saving" is going right into that bmw he can only afford BECAUSE HE LIVES AT HOME. the flashiest dudes i know can only afford to be that way because all the big bills come in mommy's name. and that is the opposite of sexy. i'd rather have sex on a milk crate bed next to a window with an old bedsheet and the lining of a winter coat in place of a curtain than ALWAYS GO BACK TO MY PLACE because, you know, "ma be going to bed all early and shit."

4 or go by a childhood nickname or rap alias. if your rap career hasn't taken off by now trust me, IT ISN'T GOING TO. this might just be black people, but have you ever introduced yourself to someone only to have him respond in kind with a name that sounds like a cartoon character or some shit? i'm sorry, sir, but what in the fuck is a "don swagga?" or a "little poo?" i went to a hip hop show a few weeks ago at which a dude who called himself "big boom" insisted upon paying for my whiskey. this motherfucker was easily old enough to be my father, but definitely not old enough for that shit to be charming. at first i thought he was joking, but he repeated himself three times. "they call be big boom," he said, and i just wanted to be like, "who is they? prison mates?" i talked to him for just as long as it took me to finish my drink, then WALKED THE FUCK AWAY. i want to call you what your mother calls you, please. or some derivative thereof. sincerely, samantha.

5 he must take his ass to the fucking doctor. the sexiest thing a man could ever say to me is "my doctor wants me to..." or "i was talking to my therapist yesterday." this is one of those basics that should go without saying, yet don't you find yourself always saying this shit?! some things just can't be treated with nyquil, dude. get those weird bumps checked out. have somebody take a look at that foot you continue to limp on. 47 advil a day is not normal, son. TAKE YOUR ASS TO THE GODDAMNED MINUTE CLINIC.

6 and have a passport and a cell phone with a contract. you're 36 years old and you haven't yet been out of the country? COME ON, MAN. not even to jamaica?! look, i hate hot and dirty places too, and this isn't really as much about seeing the world as it is about only having sex with A GROWN-ASS GODDAMNED MAN. and i guess everything on this list pretty much boils down to "let's stop banging manchildren." seriously, you only speak one language and you don't have a bank account and you have to go "put minutes on your phone" and i'm supposed to let you fuck me in the ass?! yeah, right. we aren't doing that anymore. i'm serious, jerks. if he can't commit to a cell phone provider, then he is most certainly not going to commit to YOU. either that or he has some sort of nefarious criminal background, because my credit looks worse than afghanistan and i have a motherfucking cell plan. AND CABLE. after a certain age it is simply unacceptable to no longer have a bank account. that "living off the grid" shit is just another way of saying "mentally, i'm seventeen." and that's just gross. you need a lease with your name on it, a com ed bill with your name on it, a passport with your name on it, a phone bill with your name on it, and a drivers license with your name on it. if you don't, kindly put your dick away and come back when you've procured those things.

7 he should not hesitate to lick your fucking butthole. oh, i know: that shit is gross. and, well, probably. but you need to know that he's willing to do it. i'm not sleeping with anymore dudes who have specific requirements. we need to take back the night, sisters. dudes are the ones who need to be good at sex. that's right, I SAID IT. a monkey could bring a man to orgasm, real talk. women are complicated below the belt, so much so that if i was in bed with a woman i'm not sure i could get her off in under an hour and I HAVE THE SAME GODDAMNED PARTS. seriously. my vagina is a goddamned labyrinth, and finding your way around to all of the good places is difficult. and knowing what to do once you've gotten there is increasingly moreso. also? TITS. a man's job is to kiss you, gaze lovingly into your eyes, fuck you, eat you out, do whatever boob shit you're into, stroke your hair, talk you into anal, bite you, slap you, tickle you, punch you, kick your teeth into your stomach, dislocate your jaw, stab you, electrocute you, and make you come seventeen times ALL WHILE NOT GETTING YOU ACCIDENTALLY PREGNANT OR LOSING HIS ERECTION, so how come my motherfucking ass is expected to be the one with an arsenal of motherfucking tricks?! what are there, like, three ways to handle a penis? get out of here with that bullshit.

so in 2012 imma need to know what the fuck you plan to do to ME. i'm going into every sexual encounter for the rest of my life saying "i have two and a half sex tricks that may or may not be successful. NOW WHAT HAVE YOU DONE FOR ME LATELY?"

8 and hopefully isn't on facebook and shit. facebook is for girls. i mean, posting every five minutes, commenting on every single fucking thing, uploading all 6,227 pictures you took on your trip to the dells last weekend: GIRL SHIT. when a dude posts his every meal and "checks in" at home and gets in comment wars all i can think is, "this shit is moist. he should probably be somewhere reading a book and trying to grow some motherfucking chest hair." it's totally suspicious and weird when someone says "i'm not on facebook," especially because EVEN YOUR GRANDMOTHER HAS A FUCKING FACEBOOK. what the fuck are you hiding?! in reality, though, that's a welcome goddamned change. facebook stalking and twitter interpreting is totally fucking exhausting. and pointless. i've said before that staying up all night squinting at your smartphone trying to figure out the subtext of a bunch of out-of-context comments and tweets is totally fucking dumb. but we do it anyway, because WHO THE FUCK IS THAT BITCH WITH THE BLONDE HAIR WHO KEEPS MAKING SEXY COMMENTS ON ALL HIS SHIT?! "decoding facebook comments" should be my part-time goddamned job. and manspeak email translation?! i'm a veritable expert.

fucking dudes was way less complicated back when bitches had voicemail pagers and payphones. i want to get back to that simpler time, when i could exist in blissful ignorance in the assumption that whomever i was banging was at home daydreaming about the next chance he'd get to see me. not like nowadays, when i have to text ginger to look at some asshole's current status and tell me whether or not that bitch with her tits out is really trying to fuck him or if i've just got a bad case of the ladybrains. this is mostly about how psychotic it is to be a woman in the digital age. my blood pressure can't take this shit anymore. damn you, zuckerberg.

"why didn't he comment on that link i posted?!"
"does he think my status is funny?!"
"is he getting the wrong idea because that dude i haven't spoken to since sophomore fucking year won't stop putting heart emoticons all over my page?!"
"when is he going to change his relationship status?!"
"he really 'likes' katy perry?!"
"oh god, ALL HIS SPOTIFY SONGS ARE DUMB."
"how can i politely tell him to change his profile picture so i won't be embarrassed to tell my friends who i'm dating?!"
"didn't he get my 'words with friends' invite?!"
"why isn't he on chat?!"
"why is he ignoring my chat request?!"
"did he notice how cute my cover photo is?!"
"he spends so much time on facebook."
"did he get what i was saying subliminally in my status about 'disrepect?!'"
"WHEN IS HE GOING TO CHANGE HIS MOTHERFUCKING RELATIONSHIP STATUS?!"

no thanks, son. i can't be going through all that. in the meantime, i gotta go check and see if the dude i tagged in my last post understands that i was basically saying "let's fuck."

this shit goes double for lesbians, too. if she doesn't read, DON'T SCISSOR THAT BITCH.