Friday, June 4, 2010

everything is better with beer.

1 i like watching sports because i like watching hot dudes slamming into each other and beating each other's brains out. duh. and because i secretly hope that with all that panting and sweating and heavy breathing and close contact and ass slapping and shouting and surging testosterone that the sexual tension simmering beneath the surface will boil over and these dudes will just start groping and making out and tear each other's clothes off. hot dudes kissing each other really melts my underwear right off. good lord. and the more naked the sport, the more BETTER. basketball and wrestling and UFC are the hottest, obviously, because they have the highest percentage of exposed sweaty flesh. and nothing says "i'm begging for your finger in my asshole" like four quarters out on the gridiron. tight pants stretched taut across those humongous bent over asses? MORE PLEASE.

i am the most fairweather person you will ever meet in your life, so it should come as no surprise AT ALL that i just watched my first two hockey games EVER now that the blackhawks are in the stanley cup. it's totally boring. and there are no black dudes in it. YAWN. the only thing i want to watch a bunch of white men do for three hours is my taxes. or write me checks. nothing is more terrifying than watching a bunch of cro-magnon white dudes chase around a little colored guy while screaming and wielding big sticks. i sit on the edge of my chair shouting, "run, kunta!" at the screen the whole game. that shit is EXHAUSTING.

god, who gives a fuck about hockey? especially since the dudes are all bloody and toothless and shit? ew. watching dudes run around in ice skates is 100% moist. and not in the good way. i keep waiting for someone to do a pirouette triple salchow with a half twist or whatever. and i can never see the goddamned puck. also it moves a little too fast for my tastes, plus it's sort of loud. all that 80s hair metal and dudes pressed up on plexiglass and yelling into each others faces and putting their hands all over each other and BANGING THEIR BIG, LONG STICKS AGAINST EACH OTHER and

wait, what?

the only thing i like about summer is that it's okay to start drinking at eleven in the morning, provided that the drink in question is consumed both outside and in the presence of someone wearing sunglasses and/or sandals and glistening with sweat. it might also help if they're brushing flies away from their heads and turning meat over on a grill. my boy andy left us for harvard, but before he went i attended his going away barbecue. now i HATE barbecues, especially because 1 it's hot 2 it's hot 3 it's really fucking hot 4 i don't like standing outside 5 i don't like sitting outside 6 i don't like talking outside and 7 i really don't like EATING outside. barf.

at least on a restaurant patio (i hate that, too) there's a table and there are napkins and you have a chair. before sex school red and i ate outside at wishbone, and i didn't protest because i love her and i didn't want to look like a fucking baby. plus, she beat me there. late bitches can't say SHIT. fucking express train always ruins EVERYTHING. then i missed my connection at kimball. i need someone to buy me a fucking car, for realsies. but it was half-price martini night, and drunk > outside. so i managed.

BUT. at barbecues it's TOTALLY OKAY to be drunk at ten in the morning. and to eat cheeseburgers! i mean, people look at you crazy if you aren't drinking. and there is nothing better than drinking in the morning. that's why i fucks with brunch spots that have a liquor license. hair of the dog and all that. roll out of bed at eleven, wash my one night stand off, then off to drink more and eat eggs. PERFECT.

4 i'm starting to like this goddamned hand brace. aside from people CONSTANTLY asking me what's wrong (have you no fucking decency and etiquette, you nosy jerks?!), it's incredible. dudes just move out of my way and pick shit up that i am TOTALLY capable of handling by myself, and i love it. i was at the grocery store the other day, buying my twelve items or less, and this FINE ASS DUDE picked up my basket and unloaded my shit onto the conveyer belt WITHOUT EVEN BEING ASKED. le swoon! that was so nice.

the problem though is that dudes don't find this shit SEXY, and i'm not into pity fucking. neither giving NOR receiving. i want to wear a t-shirt that reads "this comes off" but you know these neanderthals would just ogle my heavenly rack or pour a bottle of water on it and totally miss the point that i was referring to the BRACE. i don't have to wear it all the time. just most of the time. ha. and unless a dude is some weirdo cripple fetishist my dead hand is going to have to walk around the bar naked and useless, because ALL I GET lately from hot dudes is a glance at my hand followed by the sad face. boo fucking hoo. that hurts my feelings.

remember how HILARIOUS sex with my broken foot was?! i cannot WAIT to wear this little bitch to bed with a hot piece! p texted me the other night and said "can you still jack a dude off with that thing?" and the answer is a resounding YES. it'll be like small wonder is giving you a handjob! i'll let you know as soon as i find someone to road test this silly thing.

5 do any of you know anyone who needs a killer job making buckets of money? well i'm fucking hiring. i'm not kidding. and i'm in a BIND. if you know someone who knows anything about small animal medicine, i need a bright, energetic person to work the desk at an incredibly busy and fast-paced animal hospital on the north shore. it is a six doctor practice. experience required, knowledge of impromed is a HUGE plus; i am willing to train you in the way WE do things, but if you can't tell me how heartworm disease is transmitted and what frontline is don't waste my goddamned time.

full-time hours, insurance and pto after three-month introductory period. plus A LOT MORE MONEY THAN YOU ARE MAKING NOW. you won't make nearly as much as i do, because i ball outta control, but it's more than you'd make in a starting position at ANY hospital in the surrounding area. but you have to want to WORK. we don't play with puppies and kittens all day, we WORK. and if it makes you feel good, i will be your DIRECT SUPERVISOR. it doesn't get sexier than that.

send your resume to

6 i can't stop farting today. happy weekend.