Thursday, April 25, 2013

i'm never going to have a baby, so shut the fuck up about it.

i am 33 years old and i am never going to give birth to a baby. i might adopt the shit out of one, but a seven pound bundle of joy caterwauling while clawing its way down my slimy birth canal? not going to happen, son. not ever. there was a time when i would have never admitted this to anyone, because everyone is all OMG NO ONE WILL EVER MARRY YOU IF YOU SAY THAT, but shit. no time like the present to start dropping truth bombs. why is it a bomb, though? there have to be fish in the potential mate sea who aren't clamoring for a school of tiny guppies to be swimming along in their bubbly wake? you know, the people who want to travel the globe and/or stay up until 3am on a tuesday just because? i'm sure it's not just me, right?! and i know some of you audibly gasped knowing that my single self risked turning off the droves of men who might otherwise be interested in planting a seed in my garden, but here's the thing: if i have to shit out a mewling ball of snot for him, he's probably not my man. and lying to him probably won't help. 

babies have absolutely zero business forcing their way into the conversation of two drunk, sexy consenting adults prior to the 127th date, but bitches is old. i know half our eggs die by the time we're 27 or whatever, and the number of viable ones rapidly decreases with every subsequent year, blah blah blah fertility dance blah. and for those of you who are going to grow one, i totally understand why you introduce yourself to a first date slash prospective partner as, "katefrommatch.com myclockistickingdoyouwantkidsorwhat?" and dudes have clocks, too! most commonly in the form of nagging mothers and concern-trolling sisters/aunts! which is why i gotta let them know right up front: yes we could maybe have a kid but no it probably won't look like you. and we'll likely have to undergo a background check while the stork checks our urine for party drugs.

you know how i feel about shame. it's a useless emotion, sister. especially when some asshole is trying to force that shit ON YOU. feeling guilty is lame, which is why i won't be doing any of that. you know how many times people i 1 am not having sex with 2 am not in a relationship with 3 only know from facebook 4 wasn't hatched by TRY TO MAKE ME FEEL BAD for not what, trolling craigslist for donor sperm? stealing an infant from a hospital nursery? making a really unwise choice for a woman who routinely spends her last ten dollars on bourbon and magazines? god, SHUT UP.

biology. man i had no goddamned idea there were so many motherfucking gynecologists walking around disguising themselves as the bitch who works at the bank and the fine dude who i met at the recycling center that one time. want to know how to figure out who they are when they're out in public sans lab coat? MENTION THAT YOU HAVE ZERO PLANS TO PROCREATE. brings those sneaky bastards right out of the woodwork! one minute you're at dominick's buying a box of strawberry gogurt because you are too lazy to eat your probiotics the conventional way, and the next minute you're being diagnosed by the gynecologist at the register who just decided that despite your dead ovaries you need a baby so that you don't have to be ashamed of buying children's snacks for yourself. why thank you, latasha. can't believe i spent all that time wasting my co-pay when i should've been buying more wheat chex. i know how my body works. and how it doesn't.

physiology. now that i'm off birth control, i don't get my period regularly. another party favor? copious amounts of chin hair. also still happening: crohns disease ravaging my intestines. letting a tiny terrorist hijack the space next to THE MOST NECROTIC AND DISGUSTING TISSUE IN MY BODY hardly seems like a good idea, amirite? so how come i have to explain that to strangers who press me about why i'm pushing a (stolen) ice cream cart rather than a stroller down the street? i had to tell a woman at the laundromat "listen, if i had a kid i'd be on welfare and disability so stop asking and let me fold my giant panties in peace" to get her the fuck out of my face. i have to walk around with a list of my ailments to keep bitches out of my uterus now? seriously, SHUT UP ALREADY.

lifespan. this meatbag of a pre-corpse has been slowly decomposing for over thirty-three years now and, frankly, i don't have the time or energy to spend ten whole months incubating an alien spawn that might not even love me even if i give it cookies for breakfast. i'm planning to live hard and be dead by forty-seven. stop messing with my destiny. and shut the fuck up.

don't let these breeders fool you; raising children is hard. i fucking love babies. but here's why i'm glad i don't own one:

1 you can watch whatever you want on television. i watched that ass-eating episode of GIRLS in real time at full volume. you know why? because i didn't have to wait for my seven-year-old to stop faking like he was asleep before sneaking out of his room to watch his mom look at some titties. 

2 kid shit is expensive. did you know that children's shirts cost as much as real human shirts?! i can buy 137 heather grey layering tees at old navy for approximately $9 total. RIGHT THIS MINUTE there is a chambray romper at baby gap that costs $26.95, and there is a printed tie-waist dress at person gap that costs $29.99. the dress that little meatbag junior will wear for approximately five hours before she shits in it while simultaneously growing out of that 1/4 yard of fabric costs almost as much as the dress your drunk ass is going to wear to brunch, to your friend's graduation, to that sorority dinner you grudgingly accepted an invite to, to the bars, to pierce's boat party, to your cousin's wedding, and probably to work if you accidentally fall asleep in it at your hookup's place. this year and next. until i can dress my child in napkins, i'm cool.

3 you don't have to learn how to be a motherfucking hostage negotiator. have you ever watched some helpless parent trying to convince his kid to do something the kid is absolutely refusing to do? my FAVORITE THING EVER is watching some frazzled woman with a half-undone ponytail and mismatched socks trying to reason with the shrieking child belly flopping on the floor at her feet. children are unreasonable. they don't sit politely weighing your argument against whatever the fuck it is they've decided they want, they make their demands, and if you don't give them whatever the hell it is they want, immediately, their only recourse is to SHOUT AND SCREAM AND CRY. anecdote from the life of wee baby sam: my parents were not fucking playing with me. if i was being a bitch no one sat me down to let me air my considerable grievances with the establishment, i was given 1 a warning glare and, if i failed to heed it, 2 fingernails dug into the soft meat of my upper arm until my knees buckled. once my mother and i were in less-on drugstore and i  decided i wanted an imitation barbie. my request was denied. i restated my case, more fervently this time, raising my voice just enough to let that woman know i meant business. "don't try me, bitch," my four-year-old tone implied. "i will THROW A FUCKING TANTRUM, on your ass."  she continued to ignore me in her quest for bunion relief. 

so i took a deep breath, relaxed my diaphragm, and i started fucking howling. i really let that shit rip, screaming and sobbing and piquing the curiosity of every other person in that store. a young woman rushed over to see if i'd stabbed myself on an old pill box or something, but my mom stiff-armed that broad and dropped her basket full of soft foam corn pads, tossed me over her shoulder, and threw me into the back seat of her yellow chevy caprice so hard that it knocked the wind out of me. i was shocked. when the other kids in preschool pulled that shit their mommies immediately caved and gave in to their outrageous demands, just to make the shrieking stop. but they obviously had nice mommies. this asshole wasn't going to bargain with me, she was going to beat me within an inch of my life. and we danced that dance four times a day every day, if not more. and fuck all of that.

4 i don't really know that much shit. the first time i figured out my mom was dumb was a real eye-opening experience for me. i asked her, a licensed practical nurse, why hair turned grey. seemed like a simple enough question. i mean, she did work with doctors all day. it wasn't like i was asking her to explain how a goddamned rocket ship was constructed. the blank stare i received in response is burned into my memory to this very day. i fucking hated school, and i know very few things that would be of use and/or interest to a small child. so unless my kid wants to talk about nipple hair and how to eat a burrito on the toilet without getting bathroom germs on it, i'm fucked. SIGH OF RELIEF, HEAVED.

5 you need a job. but when you have a kid you need a job job. i love my job. and maybe if i had an accountant and a money manager i could figure out how to raise  a couple spoiled brats who will resent my inability to buy them iphones with my meager hourly wage, but who would that be fun for? i make really good money for a bitch who only went to high school, but let's be for real: THIS AIN'T MONTESSORI MONEY, BRO. my kid would not be able to:
-have fly, name brand clothing
-eat organic meats
-drink coconut water
-use cloth diapers
-do his homework on an ipad
-wear the new jordans
-take anything other than refined carbs for snack day
-have chuck e. cheese birthday jams
-text girls on his own cell phone
-not share a room with me
why? BECAUSE HIS BROKE MOM SUXXXXXX. also, how can i keep my gear crisp if i'm constantly buying $27 dresses and gluten-free snack cakes for my shorty? i have enough trouble trying to keep myself current, shit. the struggle is real out here. i almost had to get a fourth generation iphone, omg.

so don't feel bad, cuties. (not that you do, but everyone always assumes that you do while ignoring the fact that you backpacked alone through peru last year and did a lot of other cool childless person shit.) YOU ARE NOT ALONE, I AM HERE WITH YOU. besides, check your facebook feed: all of your friends are shitting out spawn. so babysit. teach those youngsters to swear and let them eat jelly beans all goddamned afternoon, then give those bitches back and go fuck some dirtbags and eat a hot pocket for dinner.

Thursday, April 18, 2013

new sex rules for 2013.

i'm celibate, bro. seven months and counting, with no plans to change that anytime soon. sex is boring and i want all the other shit. sure sure, prince charming is somewhere out there just waiting to clear the cobwebs out of this dank attic and tear through my regenerated hymen. but he is for real going to have to ride up to my doorstep on a unicorn with a cheeseburger in each pocket for me to even bother checking his texts. dude, FUCK SEX. but, since the rest of you insist on mashing your moist, slimy genitals together:

1 create some motherfucking ambiance. oh, i know. all you need is a half-inflated air mattress and a quiet corner of an abandoned warehouse to get your dick hard, sir. and that's cool, but i'm  not seventeen anymore. i'ma need some soft lighting and a spotify mix called "bedroom jamz" or an old jodeci cd on repeat or some shit. i need clean sheets and a pillow to support my head. you kids can have sex on park benches and the folding table at the laundromat, but after a certain age the mood and the surroundings have to be right. want to know where i lost my virginity? ON A WASHING MACHINE IN THE BASEMENT OF MY SISTER'S APARTMENT BUILDING. twenty years ago that was an acceptable circumstance for me. but i have arthritis now, homie. i'ma need you to have a nightstand i can leave my water bottle, potassium supplements, icy hot, prune juice, orthotic inserts, reverse mortgage paperwork, reader's digest, worn cardigan sweater, and room temperature soup on. 

2 let's make on-top-of-clothes sex a real thing finally. i'm so fucking lazy. if i ever have sex again the only position i ever want to do it in is this one i read in cosmo called "saucy spoons." erotic instructions: lie on your sides with him behind you so you’re both facing the same direction. push your butt toward him as he enters you. put your hand on his and show him how you want your clitoris to be touched. have him alternate between there and your breasts. THIS SOUNDS PERFECT. if a dude would agree to only fuck me this way while i 1 read my kindle and 2 just pull my nightgown up around my waist i will marry him. real talk. submit your applications, gentlemen.


3 we need to figure out if multiple orgasms are an actual thing or if you bitches are just lying to make the rest of us feel like shit. WHO IS HAVING MULTIPLE ORGASMS? please, tell me. can you call me on the phone so we can talk about it? overshare of the century: here is how my vagina experiences an orgasm: 1 SPLASH 2 shamefeelings because this premarital sex has disappointed baby jesus 3 swollen vulva so sensitive to the touch that if a breeze blows over it i double over in agony 4 zzZzZzz! i was obviously meant to have a penis.

my friend jessica taught me this new way to masturbate that involves sticking a skinny vibrator in either your babychute or your doodyhole while you use a giant vibrator on your clit to create THE GREATEST ORGASM ANYBODY EVER HAD. the minute she told me i shouted, "I AM GOING TO TRY TO COME TWICE IN ONE SITTING!" at the computer screen while clapping like a little girl. i walked home with a spring in my step, ready to give it a whirl. i was irritated immediately. first of all, the logistics of this shit: like i said, i am hella lazy, and i usually keep the hitachi plugged into the outlet in the bathroom so that i don't have to go looking for it when i finish peeing. gross, but true. and i didn't want to risk dropping that expensive-ass lelo in the goddamned toilet while trying to get situated, so then i had to figure out a good spot to do it, which made me feel like a total fucking creep. i was, like, testing surfaces and shit. okay, anyway, i decided that the corner of the bed would be the most practical. then i removed my pants.

i turned the lelo on and stuck it in my vagina, but it fell out immediately because my lazy pussyhole isn't a motherfucking team player. insert #2 went a little bit smoother, and i used every ounce of strength i had in me to tighten my kegels around that humming silicone shaft. but then i couldn't get my other vibrator working and as soon i starting fiddling with it i lost my concentration and the lelo clattered to the hardwood floor and rattled into the other room rattling like a fucking lawn mower. so then i wedged the lelo into my butthole, where it remained perfectly, but that prevented me from sitting. standing upright prevented my properly reaching my clitoris. so then, like a fucking asshole, i did a captain morgan one leg up pose on the corner of the bed. with a vibrator shoved in my asshole. trying to adjust the settings was as hilarious/humiliating as you can imagine. after four minutes of awkwardly hovering at the side of my bed with the dull roar of two vibrating sex toys jammed into my sex places i realized that i'd forgotten the porn and all i could imagine was watching my high school history teacher jerking off and that was too gross and inappropriate even for me. i sort of came once, but it was a weak one at best, and not the six times i had been hoping for. i need you girls to 1 TRY THIS AT HOME AND REPORT BACK and 2 skpye me in if you really are having 37 for real orgasms in one session. that shit has to look amazing.

4 i want to see a real couple show me how shower sex works. and when i say "real couple" i mean "fat people who have coffin-sized bathrooms." i was on the 66 bus the other day and this woman was shouting, on speakerphone, to her homegirl about the epic shower sex she and her boo had engaged in the night before. the gentleman across from me raised an eyebrow over the newspaper he was pretending to read and my look back said, "aw yeah, you fine piece of hot, smoldering sex. we should totally try that sometime." horrified, he blanched and jumped off the bus before it had even come to a complete stop. fine, i have terrible gaydar, whatever. ANYWAY, i have tried to have shower sex on three separate occasions with three different people, and every single time i either 1 ended up shivering like an asshole at the back of the shower with cold soap bubbles congealing in my crease meat or 2 abandoned the sex to really try to enjoy that motherfucking shower. the first time was in this swanky hotel that had a waterfall shower and bliss products on the sink! i lathered up that lemon and sage soapy sap and stood under that warm, steamy spray and was like, "PUT YOUR DICK AWAY, BRO." nothing like an erection to ruin my calgon moment. the first time was after that golden shower incident that went so terribly awry, and i was too busy trying not to vomit my own urine to bother with p in v. 

and the third time dude slipped and broke his left arm during the fall and almost tore my right nipple off on the way down. i'ma need ol' girl to send me a copy of her sex tape. like, right now. seeing is believing.

5 butt plugs. GIMME SOME ASS. sorry in advance, future partners, but i have had all of the non-reciprocal anal sex i am ever going to have. sucks to be you, but you should've met me when i was in high school. those days are over, homey. if you want me to shit on your dick then you have to let me peg you or use a butt plug or something. i dated this really progressive (snort) dude a few years ago who begged for a little prostate action every single time we banged it out. like, dude would be on his knees before i could even get my powderless surgical glove on. i would lube up my pointer finger and curve it to the right and then BOOM GOES THE DYNAMITE. seriously. i had to wear protective goggles. it was like working near a goddamned geyser. i had to brace myself against the dresser every time he busted a nut, bro. anyway, after that i didn't even care what dude wanted from me. he could've poked my eye out and put his dick in the empty socket and i would've been like, "well, okay." and i know that shit is moist. i swear i do. but prostate milking is SO HOT that i almost forgot this dude also wore pink dress shirts and sometimes a fedora. 

so if you're going to let someone dig around in your backyard, i found some internet sex help to keep you from catching e.coli or some other disgusting shit: unlike the vagina, the anus is not super-elastic or self-lubricating. therefore, to enjoy anal sex, you need to take it really slowly and use plenty of water-based lubricant. "enjoy" is a motherfucking stretch. try "tolerate." since your butt is not used to having objects inserted into it, the sphincter muscles, which encircle the anal opening, will automatically clench when you try to penetrate it. so, you have to learn to relax them. have your guy get you nice and worked up with your favorite form of foreplay and then delicately massage the outer rim of the opening. try not to shit on his hand. when you're ready, have him slowly slip his finger in, only as far as is comfortable. just stick with this for several sessions, until you are able to let his finger in with little resistance or tension. then, if you don't feel you're ready to jump from a finger to a penis, graduate to an in-between-sized sex toy specifically designed for up-the-butt action. the skinnier the plug, the better. and make sure it has a end piece so it doesn't get swallowed by your buttmouth and end up perforating your large bowel.

REMEMBER: anything that's been in the anus, your fingers/a penis/cucumber, needs to be washed with soap and water before putting it in the vagina to avoid spreading bacteria and causing an infection. if you used a condom, replace it with a new one. if you didn't use a motherfucking condom, GO GET AN HIV TEST. this isn't the fucking 70s, hooker. it's 2013. wrap that shit up, b.

buy my book, baby.