Thursday, November 24, 2011

The Holiday Fupa, and My Doctor Thinks I Have Breast Implants

Happy Thanksgiving you turkey trotting, gravy gobbling, cranberry creaming readers!

Tis the season of obesity, and the abundance of the fupa, which I expect will make an appearance several times during the holidays. I picked the absolute worst time to go on a low carb diet considering every god damn piece of food is made up of carbohydrates. I'd like to lose twenty pounds before I dip to Vegas for Spring Break, but I've been saying that I've wanted to lose twenty pounds since I was a porker in the fifth grade and a pro at tetherball.

I feel like I've described the fupa several times in past entries, but for you rookies I'll do another quick overview. The FUPA is shortened for a FAT UPPER PUSSY AREA. I also like to think that you can have a FUBA, which is a FAT UPPER BACK AREA. The fupa is essentially the area above your vag that is enlarged usually due to obesity that tends to expand through yo pants. If you have a fupa you'll probably know about it, people will stare. The fuba is basically just a bunch o back fat, which is generally pretty fucking unflattering.


Or do you think anyone gives a shit about the dress/duvet cover she's wearing?

I decided to say fuck me in the ass to the whole diet crescendo during the holidays and allow for the turkey baster to penetrate me repeatedly while injecting stuffing into my ever growing fat cells.

Note: I do talk about being penetrated and raped a lot, it just seems to go fittingly with whatever I'm talking about. 


Also to commemorate Thanksgiving, November also marks the month of the infamous "No Shave November." Basically people decide to not shave for the month of November. I'm not really sure why people do this...but I joined in. Not because I intentionally wanted to participate in no shave, but because I'm a lazy piece of shit. And I'm not getting laid on a regular basis, so I feel no need to keep myself as bare as a two year old's bottom.

So since I am home for Thanksgiving break, my mother felt the need to do all of my dentist and doctor check-ups to keep me as healthy as possible. I guess I should take advantage of this luxury before I have to pay for my own health insurance (liver transplants are $300,000.)

Anyway, I head to the doctor for a check up. She's a pretty swell lady, we discussed my sleeping habits, alcohol and smoking habits, the usual. And I really thought that was all the check up was, then she pulled out the hospital gown and it was evident, I was going to get THAT kind of check up as well. Fuck. Not only do I absolutely fucking hate this part of the doctor's visit, but I was hairy fucking everywhere. I resembled Chewbacca's long lost cousin. I was sitting on the doctor's table in my adorable little gown, trying to hide my legs, and she told me to lie down for the breast exam. The thing that drives me crazy about both doctors and dentists is how they try and make small talk with you at the most awkward moments. At this point in time, while my doctor is feeling me up. I just try and look away and stare at the ceiling thinking about what I'm going to eat for lunch later.

Then she suddenly asks me, "Do you have implants?"
G: "Uhmm..no. And I think we talked about this last time I was here."
Doc: "Ohh! I'm sorry, you just have very firm breast tissue."
G: "I see, what the hell does that mean."
Doc: "It just means that they won't sag when you're older."

Well, I guess there is some hope for me. Even though they already sag. But I guess this means when I'm older they won't hang past my belly button.

After the awkward grope sesh with my doctor is over, it's time for her to examine my lower manhood. If her feeling up wasn't awful enough, this level of awkwardness just burst through the fucking roof. I have to put my feet on these metal stirrups and do the spread eagle. My legs are clenched together tighter than a re-stiched vagina. She orders me to relax and let my legs fall apart, I just want to cry. But before that, I apologize for my not shaving prior to our visit. I'm sure she's seen worse, and probably even bigger fupas.

I hope everyone else is having a wonderful, fupa-induced Thanksgiving holiday.

A few things that I'm thankful for worth noting:

1. Friends and Family - For keeping me alive and loving me through all my blunders and mishaps. Or at least doing a really great job at pretending they give a shit.

2. Food - You get me through the times when I am man-less. Or even when I do have a fellow. Cheers to you for contributing to my fupa, fuba, and sagging breasts.

3. Booze - You just may be the heart and soul contribution to this blog. Thanks for keeping my standards low and my tolerance high.

4. Chelsea Handler - For knowing that there are other women in this world who don't give a rat's ass about what people think about them. You are a diamond in pile of horse manure, and I plan on sending you my blog link once I hit a certain amount of followers.


What are you guys thankful for? If anything, be thankful for the FUPA for storing excess fat incase we get a little hungry. 




Braille: flyingpinkpigs69@hotmail.com
Twatter: tronaholic

Sunday, November 6, 2011

I Have Been Nominated For The BILF Award! Also, I Hit My Head On Something This Weekend.

Just a quick little post to distract me from endless hours of homework that I have procrastinated on this entire weekend.

The wonderful and classy Allie has decided under god knows what circumstances to honor me with the BILF award, the "Blogger I'd Like to Fuck." I am so surprised, I haven't even prepared a speech for this momentous occasion. 



This is the second award that I have received, and I decided that this one is going to be blogged about. Thank you Allie, for wanting to have sex with me. You're pretty fucking delightful. If you are ever in the area, we should probably get together. But for now, cybersex I guess will have to do. 

Here are some more sexy funny bloggers that I would just die of happiness if we could have cybersex JUST ONE FUCKING TIME. 

briLikethebear - You and I have probably the same exact type of humor, and that's why I fucking love your shit. Get at me brah, let the dirty sexting begin. 

Miss Sassy Pants - Well I know you in real life, but why the fuck haven't we boned yet? If you haven't read her shit, you're seriously missing out on this blog queen bee bitch. 

Kayleigh - This gorgeous female is wonderful. Her blog is so creative and full of great pictures. Plus she's hot, uhmmmm HELLO. I'm sold. 

KG - This girl has been reading my shit since day one along with that Allie beez. I have mad love for this woman, and I hope she knows that I'm crashing in her bed when I move to New York next year. 

ms.composure - Her page is always filled to da brim with these crazy and hilarious photos and videos that bring me immense pleasure. Plus her bod is bangin', sexy can I? 


So there you have it, some classy ladies that I'm tryin' to bone. Wish me luck. 

Weekend Highlights
. Bought at least five rounds of shots (I only work 5 hours a week)
. My roommate put me to bed in MY bedroom...I woke up in my roommates bed down the hall. 
. Also, I woke up with a bump the size of a ball sack on my forehead. 

Cheers to the freakin' weekend. 

Thursday, November 3, 2011

"Don't Punch Me Yet, Let Me Cover My Nose First"

Here we fucking go again. I feel like I always blog only on Thursdays. It's just such an appropriate day I  mean after all, it is the start to the weekend. I do need to stop delaying my posts though, it is now becumming a two week wait for new blog posts. My dear followers, please continuously prod my glutes with a beer bong (funnel end) to remind me to be a more frequent blog bitch.

I figured you would all want to know about the garbage heap that happened this past weekend, more commonly known as Halloween 2011. I know in my last blog entry I had a lot more creative costume choices, but my fundings were limited because I spend all my money funding my alcoholism and obesity. I tried to find a cheap hot dog costume, I promise. But without further adieu, lezzzzbehonest and begin an explicit breakdown of the freakend.

FRIDAY- Drop It Like It's Hot: The beginning of something slippery. Tonight I decided to dress up as "The Sun Drop Girl." If you do not know who this bonita apple bottom bitch is, observe below.


Drop it like it's hot, you cooter queen. 

I told you she's fucking fantastic.

I thought this outfit would be appropriate because it was as warm as the apple pie that Jason Biggs masturbated with. Also I could get belligerently intoxicated and have an excuse for dancing like a giraffe on ecstasy. The pre funk began around...8? We obviously took shots while getting ready. My roommates and myself mosey our asses to a fiesta. The party is in full swing. Naturally, I spot the cooler filled with drinks and the cases of beer so that is my first destination. The boy/bahtender offers me a beer. I politely decline and demand hard liquor. I myself am definitely more of a hard liquor kind of gal. I stand by the fact that "liquor is quicker," plus beer makes me bloat almost instantaneously like a fucking popcorn kernel. Moving right along. My roommates say adios and we part our ways and I wind up with my other pals and we decide to descend to the bars.
Several more shots later...we all end up in the bathroom and decide to cram five or six of us into one stall for some bizarre reason and take pictures. Then we grab random tricks from the bathroom and take group photos, gotta love spontaneity. The night ends with me droppin' it like it's hot all over the bar, and dancing with a few gentlemen. Now was it one or two that I had a romantic passionate Notebook style kiss with? My bestest friend in da worrrrrrrld and I decide that it is probably time to go home...but not until we get into a fist fight.

You see right hurrr, since Freshman year we always like to joke around and shove each other, but sometimes we start getting pissed off at each other where we actually fight like we mean it. Well, being drunk definitely has its perks. We decided to punch each other in the face since we have never done it before. GENIUS! She made sure that we didn't hit each other's noses though, because that would be just tragic. I think the gentleman who walked us home was a bit concerned with our friendship. We woke up with sore eyeball sacks and damaged dignities.

SATURDAY - Gabby gets lost, again: Three cheers for hangover round one! After filling my six pack of blubber with endless amounts of Dairy Queen and sitting on the couch for ten straight hours, I decide that it's going to be a Tequila kind of night. Mistake #1. For tonights costume, I wore a warrior princess costume. Not like fucking Xenia though. Everyone was making themselves look dead by splattering fake blood and shit on themselves so I decided what the fuck, might as well. So I was a dead warrior princess. We went to a house party and kicked it with Tiger Woods, then went to a frat. Being a senior and going to a frat is nothing like it was when I was a young lass. I felt like an old saggy ball sack. Everyone was a freshman or a sophomore and wearing next to nothing. I forgot Halloween is an excuse to wear a matching bra and panty set. After flopping away from the frat scene, we head to the bars and do the jitterbug for a bit. In the process, we run into one of my home gurls who was doing a ride-a-long with the police. I decided to pose for a picture with one of the officers (I have yet to see how that turns out) My friend and I, the lone rangers, go back to the bar and the next thing I know, she disappears.


This song is a classic anthem in my case

I am drunk. By myself. I do not no a soul here. So I decided that walking around the bar by myself would be the most logical solution. The bar being two levels, I thought that walking up and down the stairs would give me a chance to burn off a few of those amf drinks. I don't know why the fuck I thought that no one would take notice to a blood soaked warrior princess walking in circles by herself for twenty minutes, but it seemed brilliant at the time. Luckily, I ran into some friends and went back to their house...where I took more shots. Christ. After playing foosball for awhile...?!?! My gentleman friend trotted my black stallion behind back to the stables where we watched Disturbia and chatted about how wonderful we were.

SUNDAY - Food Coma: I decided to be a normal human being for once, and by normal human meaning I sat in the recliner while dining on the finer things in life, the Big Mac.

MONDAY - Batzilla: After a solid five hours of sleep, I was well rested and ready to celebrate the actual holiday of Halloweiner. Monday was by far the worst night, by worst I mean to give my condolences to my liver. I go with the Batman theme, obviously because black is slimming and I was still trying to digest the diseased cattle ranch forming a knot in my stomach. DTF was also Superman, so we were a hoot. I am going to coin us forever more as Trip D, the Dynamic Drunk Duo. Kind of like Triple A, except we don't assist anyone with anything. My other lovely roommates dressed up as Thing One, Thing Two, and Thing Three, but there was a bit of altering to the costumes. Replace "Thing" with "Drunk," and There was Drunk One, Two, and Three. Bloody fucking brilliant, ladies.

After more people came to our house, we had a nice and chunky group going so we flew like the wind to a few parties before hitting the bars. Some more intense gigging, and shots, I was the most intoxicated that I have been all weekend. Outside of the bar, I was having a conversation with myself about making the trek home because clearly, gravity is starting to pull you down town. I start talking to a gentleman, he who must not be named, only because I definitely do not know his name. I did however, sprint home in my Batman costume, cape and all, at four in the morning. Good thing they invented shortcuts.

No, I'm not fucking sorry for partying. 


So there you fucking have it my sexy followers, another successful weekend.

A little off the subject but not really because my alter ego is a six hundred pound woman, but I found this site gorgeous. Check out this picture.


Bacon Wrapped Burrito Log: A delightful little snack where you shove Taco Bell's Cheesy Double Beef Stuffed Burritos into a log of sausage which is then wrapped in a few layers of bacon. 

If you're not cumming over this concoction, we can't be friends. 


So, how was everyone else's Hallofreakend? Don't even think about not splooging the dirty details.


Tweet my twatty ass, or send me some porn/hate mail


Braille: flyingpinkpigs69@hotmail.com
Twatter: tronaholic

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Two Weeks Notice: Camel Toes, Chippendales, and Halloween Costumes

Don't give me any shit, I know that I haven't blogged in a hot minute. But due to nagging from friends and loyal readers, I have decided that two weeks has been long enough. The problem is, I get busy. And when I say that I get busy, I mean that I have been devoting many hours to watching One Tree Hill and eating enough carbs to help sustain a third world country.

If I can begin to recall the past two weeks, I can only update you on the highlights from the bloody massacre that I call my life.

Week One:
. 21 Run & Foam Fun - Decided to go out for a subtle wing night, which soon turned into a slop bowl after attending some 21 runs. Ended the night by taking the birthday lady to the Wednesday night foam fest. Inhaled too many bubbles, probably mixed with some bodily fluids. Delish.
. Pub Crawl - This was a disgusting event that involved a bunch of girls running amok around town to as many bars as possible. I consumed quite a bit of liquor, but I also brought a flask with me for good measure. I couldn't allow my buzz to cum down quite yet. We made it to a number of bars, so I say that we did a pretty swell job. One highlight includes sucking face with a gentleman in front of the hot dog stand (appropriate?) Pub crawls never end well.

Week Two: 
. THE FALCON HAS LANDED - He shook his tail feathers at the airport after docking on Thursday. Falcon, myself, and the Ranga snagged some din din. I ate the weight of my tits in BBQ pulled pork.
. We decide to throw a fiesta - Falcon bought the booze, that sneaky bird. We made Pink Panty Droppers, which incase you didn't know is a mix of beer, lemonade, and vodka. Who was the person that decided to invent this drink? I have no idea, but my liver threw up a white flag and surrendered at about 12AM. Up until the time where all goes black like my soul, there was a mix of dancing, arguments, and an appearance by a man who had the appearance of a Chippendales dancer. I woke up in my friend's bed with a different pair of pajamas on. Highlights include vomiting in a kitchen bowl, dancing with a Chippendale, and a gentleman running around with no underwear on. Bottoms up!

Something that I have been thinking about lately since it is unfortunately starting to creep up, Halloween costumes. To be completely honest, I'm not too keen on the holiday of Halloween. It either requires being creative or being a slut, both of which are questionable attributes in my life. Halloween used to be so much more fun when we were young and naive little nuggets. Trick or Treating was wonderful. I loved stuffing my overweight and flat assed self into a stereotypical and hideous costume.



Example One: Guess which one I am? Hint, I have a muffin top at the age of three and what appears to be an elongated camel toe.

If it was socially acceptable for college students to still go trick or treating, then I would absolutely be all for it. But now, I have to accept the inevitable change from binge eating too many Crunch bars, to binge drinking too much Montego Bay Rum. 

Now back to what I was saying about costumes. Halloween in college is the biggest holiday of the year. It gives every girl an excuse to dress up like an enormous whore and get blasted. Which is absolutely okay by me, unless you're one of those poor girls who try and squeeze all 300 pounds of your flesh into a costume made for chicks living on cocaine, and then vomiting everywhere from the combination of alcohol and too many tacos putting pressure on your already expanded stomach in a corset. 

Disclaimer ^^ : If this does happen to you and you do indeed consume too much booze and food and your costume is starting to implode like the blueberry girl in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, please read my earlier post that deals with unpredictable bloating and if you must resort to pushing out that bitch.  

Over the past three years, I have had a variety of Halloween costumes, ranging from the slutty to the down right what the fuck. Here is a brief overview, with pictures. 


Freshman Year: A porky maid at the age of eighteen. I lost my feather duster, but that didn't stop me from buying twenty dollars worth of McDonalds once I got back to my dorm. 


Sophomore Year: A candy striper. This was the most intoxicated Halloween I've experienced, clearly my eyes are almost cross-eyed in the above photo. The last thing I remember is vomiting at a fraternity and my friend peeking from underneath the bathroom stall to see if I am still alive. I leave the party at 11:30 once Falcon picked my cute ass up. He thought it would be funny to take pictures of me by the toilet. I also proceeded to vomit in my room in the only plastic bag near my bed, which happened to contain my pay check. I'm sure you can imagine the look of horror on the bank teller's face when I went to deposit a check flecked with red chunks. 




Junior Year: A Four Loko and a Ra-Freaky. A group of us dressed up as Four Lokos in memory of  them being altered to their non caffeinated state. We of course, drank too many Four Lokos, and then proceeded to remember why we stopped drinking the black outs in a can. Another fond night this year was when I decided to be Rafiki's alter ego, Ra-freaky, a crazy drunken sex driven baboon. My outfit as you can see, consisted of body paint, booty shorts, my spirit stick, and some penis blog drawn around my belly button. I "simba-d" a lot of people that night with my face paint, Tequila tends to give you that sort of inspiration. 

Since Halloween is on a god damn Monday this year, that means I need to have at least five different costumes. One for each night, Thursday through Monday. 

Here are my ideas so far:

1) A hot dog, preferably with some mustard or relish. Complete with a sign attached to my back proclaiming, "ASK ME ABOUT MY WEINNEERRRR!" Inspiration from the clip below. 




2) The Kool Aid Guy. Pretty self explanatory, I just get to run around in an oversized t-shirt with a jug of Kool Aid infused with too much vodka screaming, "OHHH YEAAAAHHHHHHHHHH."

3) A Mental Health Patient, with a bad case of Tourettes. I have a hospital gown and I already don't brush my hair, and my friends strongly believe I have Tourettes. If I get some the night I wear this beauty, I will never have to question my seduction skills again. 

4) Chunk, from the Goonies. If you have seen the Goonies, which I hope to god all of you fucks have seen  this classic, then you will know that Chunk has an appetite, and is known for being the klutz. Plus he gets to do the Truffle Shuffle, which I wouldn't mind doing after an inappropriate amount of jello shots. Jigga Jigga Jigga Jigga. 


So now all I need is a fifth costume and then I'm golden. Maybe I'll do a slutty one for kicks, or dress up as a Chippendale. I was also thinking maybe the possibility of an Amy Winehouse costume. After all, I just have to chain smoke, have a blackened bee hive hairdo, and be belligerently drunk in public. Sounds like I'm about halfway there already.  

What are you guys thinking about donning for Halloween? 

If you have any questions or discussion topics for me, don't hesitate to sling me an email or tweet me you fucks.
Email: flyingpinkpigs69@hotmail.com
TWEEETTERRRR: tronaholic


P.S. I don't fucking understand Twitter, but I figure I better start getting more tech savvy. 


Thursday, September 29, 2011

Nugget Porn and "The Accidental Slip"

First of all, I'd like to thank all my followers and readers for taking the time out of their day to read my disgusting piece of a blog. Your comments are wonderful, and are what keep me going. So again, gracias, you fucks. I love the support. Mad love.

Also, I am supposed to give a shout out to one of my roommates because he is quite upset with me that I have not yet mentioned him on the blog. We shall call him, DTF. I've known him for two years, and throughout our friendship, have gotten into way too many drunk mishaps. He's one of my few friends who can dance like no tomorrow and has the heart of a teddy bear, unless you try to kick him out of the cage at the bar. Mistake my friends, mistake.

Another shout out to mah boy Falcon. He will be gracing us with his sexy cashew presence in approximately 15 days. We will be hosting a party, although the theme is undecided, but he volunteered to buy the booze. Obvi who could say no to that?

I know that I already discussed the "Morning After Awkwardness" in a previous post, Read About This Shit Hurr, but if you are coherent enough to remember the "smooshing" from the night before, I'd like to take a few minutes out of your busy life to discuss weird little things that could occur during said "smooshing."
Side Note: If you don't know what "smooshing" is, please watch Jersey Shore, you will not be disappointed at the pure class of these people.

The Queaf: Every woman's sex life nightmare. It happened to me ONCE. I promise, once. I think it was once...I hope it was once. Anyway, if you don't know what a queaf is, please just Google it. I don't want to take the time to describe a disgusting, bellowing sound similar to King Kong erupting out of your kumquat. If this happens, just try to laugh it off, I guess. There's really nothing you can do to try and cover up a queaf. Unless the gentleman you are with is too intoxicated to notice, or you scream (in pleasure?) at just the nick of time when that bitch burps. That's probably what I would do.

Trynna Catch Me Talkin' Dirty: It's your typical Friday or Saturday night, and you've shacked up with a certified dime piece. Shit starts to get hot and heavy, until the "dime piece" you're with says something completely preposterous like "Call me daddy, CAALLL MEEE DADDDDYYY." First of all, why do I need to call you "daddy," do I have "daddy complex" problems stamped across my forehead? I think not. Now I don't mind a few words thrown about here and there, but if you're going to devote the entire time of us fooling around to you reciting some ridiculous bullshit you read in a book, think again buster. And you think girls can't get Whiskey dick, ha.

Switch That Shit Up: Let's face it, different positions are great. Do you really think that I want to lie here for twenty minutes like a beached whale while you pump me like a Texaco? Nah, let's switch that shit up. The only problem here is when that switch up goes horribly wrong, and being wasted and trying to be kinky and experimental can end up in some uncomfortable scenarios. It's the worst when you're with someone and every two seconds they're trying to nail you in fifteen different positions. Legs are flying everywhere, and being drunk you're probably going to get an elbow to the face. I feel like a fucking pancake being flipped one too many times.

The "Accidental" Slip: About 85% of the time, I think that it's not accidental at all when a gentleman misses your kumquat. I think I can speak for a good majority of women for being victims of the "accidental slip," when your body goes from pleasure, to utter shock and confusion, talk about a clit stomp. But, I'm being biased because I'm not a big fan of "Sweeping the Chimney," so cheers if you are!

The Grand Finale: So, you have "cum" to the end of your journey, whether it was good or bad, it's over. Now unless you have a boyfriend, I hope you all are not being fools, and wrappin' yo tools, because god knows we need more fucking people in the world, with everyone breeding like fucking rabbits. Some men will have a standing ovation in the wrapper, and some will take it off with great pride and sprinkle their mildew wherever they may please. One finale that I would like to touch up on that I find absolutely hilarious, is the one and only "Simba." When a man "simbas" you, he explodes his "cupid's gravy" on your face, and with a single thumb, drags it across your forehead and mumbles, "simba." If you have seen the "Lion King," then you know what I'm talking about when Rafikki does it to baby Simba. Personally, I find this move wonderful, although degrading, you gotta give props to the person who decided to incorporate Disney movies with semen.

Check out this website: http://www.dirtyslang.com/
Some truly interesting names for breasts and cunnilingus.

Onto the next, on on to the next quick topic of discussion: Nugget Porn
The holy fucking grail of porn, and I am determined to either find it, or direct the first film. Basically, it's two people who have lost both of their legs and arms, and have sex with each other. Essentially looking like little chicken nuggets. The images going through my head right now are mind boggling, I know I'm not the only person who would watch this. I think it's the golden ticket for the porn industry, and I will be the first one to discover it.




I'm hungry.



Weekend Highlights:
. Thought I only had two rounds at the bar, turns out I had four
. DTF gig so hard he twisted his ankle at 9:30 P.M.
. Too much vomit, explosive
. I don't remember the weekend

Monday, September 19, 2011

The Pros and the Cons of My Existence (Perspectives From Brutally Honest Friends)

Jambo!

I decided to write a quick little post about the perks of knowing me. My friends created a Venn Diagram of the pros and the cons (multiple) of my existence. These are the ideas of The Ranga, PCP, and Buffaluffagus. I have not introduced the Buff yet, but the important things you must know is that she gigs like nobody's business and hates not receiving mass texts.

Now without further delay, here is this gorgeous list. I will understand if you want to stop reading my blog.

PROS
1. Cuddling - PCP thinks I am the best cuddle buddy ever, probably due to the comfort of my fat rolls and baby soft arm hair
2. TITTIES - This is actually underlined and in all caps. I do have large mammary glands, but big melons are not necessarily a good thing. Every shirt I own makes me look like a whore (besides my muscle tees), and gravity has been yanking those puppies down to Chinatown. By the time I'm thirty, they'll be past my belly button. Pro about big tits, you can slap a bitch.
3. Social Chair - Back when I lived in the Moulin Rouge, every member of the household had a position. I was the Social Chair because I knew about a lot of parties, and I know a lot of people. Well, more like a lot of people know me, I never remember anyone because my brain has shrunk to the size of a Cheerio.
4. Musical Genius - One of the nicest things my friends said. I have played guitar for almost ten years, and can also play the Bass and Drums. Only thing I'm missing is the singing, probably for everybody's benefit.
5. Gabby Childs - I enjoy cooking, and one of my top movies is Julie and Julia. I am Gabby Childs, Julia's long lost daughter.
6. Loyalty - I'm a loyal friend. If you fuck with my friends, I will rape you repeatedly with an ax.
7. Speaks her Mind - Clearly, just read my fucking blog.

PRO & CON
Plain and simple, these are both good and bad things about my lifestyle.
1. LEGS - Pro: My friends think I have nice legs, I got it from mah momma. Con: When I get drunk, I lose all strength in my legs, therefore becoming a paraplegic. I will wake up with a bruise the size of Pangea. My mom thinks I'm anemic, I think I drink too much.
2. Porn <3 - Pro: Porn is everyone's secret love. My love is not that secret. I recommend Redtube. Con: Will interfere with school work.
3. Drinking Capabilities - Pro: I can outdrink a lot of people, and it's amazing that I am still standing after six years of liver abuse. Con: My drinking capabilities has also created problems such as trying to fight people or falling in ditches.
4. No Swimming Ability - Pro: I'm hoping that my non existent swimming ability will snag me a hot man who will see my blubber butt sinking faster than the Titanic and save me. Con: Obvious reasons that I could drown or be eaten by a shark.
5. Will Fuck Women - Pro: I hate labels. My mentality is have sex with whoever you want, if you're horny, you're fucking horny. Besides, women are gorgeous, and don't just pump you three times and leave. Con: I don't believe there is a con, but The Ranga does. She's a rude girl.
6. The Bad Girls Club - Pro: If you have not heard of this delightful show, I suggest watching it immediately. The best season was the fifth. I've been told to audition for that, or the Real World. I think both would be poor choices. Con: The show is extremely trashy, but I think that's a pro.


This is easily one of the best scenes from BGC. Falling down stairs when you're wasted hurts, trust me. 

CONS
1. Worms World Party (WWP) - This is one of the greatest computer games of all time, besides Putt-Putt Saves the Zoo. Basically, you create a team of worms. You make up the name of the team, as well as the names of each individual worm. Then, you can chose your team's flag, their tombstone, their theme song, weapons of choice, and you can even give your worms and accent (my personal favorite is the "Smooth Babes") You battle the computer's worm team, or play multi-player. The goal of the game is to destroy the other team, obviously. Everyone thinks this is a con, but I think it's one of God's gifts to my hard drive. Here's a clip so you know exactly what you're missing out on. 


My favorite weapons to use against my enemies: 
1:11 - Super Sheep, 2:01 - Sheep Strike, 2:28 - The Concrete Donkey 

2. Sand Dollar Nips - I have weirdly large nipples, my friends say they are as big as sand dollars. No nipple rings for this bitch, con con con. 
3. Rude Girl - I'm pretty blatantly rude to everyone. It's something I need to work on I know, but I think it adds to my charm and appeal. I'm sure my friends will disagree with this statement, particularly because PCP constantly threatens our friendship every time I make a snide remark.  
4. Eating Habits - If you read one of my earlier posts titled "Who Ran For President Again?" I describe my eating habits when I was a kid. I may not binge eat as much as I did when I was a tubby little eight year old, but I am a sloppy eater. I chew with my mouth open, talk while eating, and usually get half of my meal on my face or in my hair. This probably explains why I haven't been on a dinner date in years. 


Freshman year of High School - everything makes sense now

5. Small Bladder - Okay I will admit it, I have peed my pants while severely intoxicated. Two years ago, my friend found me passed out next to a jeep and took me home. I was then put on the couch while my drunk roommates were still awake. Ursula discovered that I had pissed the couch and I was promptly taken to the bathroom immediately by Sweetheart and Ranga. I started vomiting excessively into the porcelain goddess. Happy Sophomore year!
6. Downy Faces - I can morph my face into some bizarre positions. One of my personal favorites since High School is doing "In-Motion" pictures. Essentially, you relax your face and shake excessively back and forth, allowing your face fat flab to fly and shake. Disclaimer, the sounds from your cheek fat flapping is really gross and sounds like fat people having sex. 


Sophomore year of High School - still single

7. Noises - My friends think I have Tourette's, I think they're probably right.


Alyssa's clearly having a bad day. 

Anyone still want to be friends with me? That's what I thought, crickets.



What are your quirks that make you "special?" Got any weird habits? Let's hear 'em!

Weekend Highlights
. Family Night, resulting in too much Jaegermeister
. Being kicked out of the bar
. Waking up in my dress
. Helping to clean my friend's room so she could get it in (worked like a charm) 

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Millions of Peaches, Peaches For Me

Greetings fellow blog-aholics. It is 12:23AM and I really should be studying for my Cultural Artifacts Midterm Project but writing a post about my obsession and adoration for my Middle School crush sounded a lot more appealing.

I would like to give a disclaimer that I was even more bizarre in Middle School than probably any other time of my life. Hard to believe I know, but you'll soon come to realize that I am correct. 

The beginning of my disgusting love began in the 6th grade when said gentleman was in my Homeroom. I thought he was beautiful. I liked him for a bit, then moved onto a few other fellows. It happened again in 7th grade, but the real clincher was in the 8th grade where I began to keep a journal about my lovesick thoughts and dreams of our future together.

I thought I would post some pictures of the evidence before I dive into the exploits of my diary. This should give you an idea of what exactly we are working with here. 

Exhibit A: The Rebel Diary - notice the fuzzy/tacky black cover, you already know you're in for a treat. 


Exhibit B: The Inside Doodle Cover - I had a slight obsession with flying pink pigs when I was a young lass. Also, in the bottom left corner you can observe a direct quote from Ludacris's song "What's your Fantasy." Why was I so deranged?  


Exhibit C: A young and attractive girl named Gabby at the ripe age of 13  


Why won't anyone date me!?!?

P.S. What the fuck is "Sideout?" Cute flowers, betch. 

Now that we have covered the basics, let's move right along into the prime entries. I will be writing down, word for word, what I said 8 years ago. Please ignore the atrocious spelling and abbreviations. Whenever I mention my love's name, it will be Peaches. At school, my friends and I came up with code names for the boys that we had crushes on so we were able to talk about them as much as we wanted. Peaches, is the main subject of this post, but there was also "Mustard," "Ketchup," "Green Bean," "Snot Boy," etc etc. Don't ask me how we came up with these names, maybe we were hungry. I wouldn't be surprised. My face   looks like a chipmunk storing too much food for winter. 

April 7th, 2004

Im havin a P-A-R-T-A-Y on April 17! its gonna b da bomb! about 30-40 ppls r going! my lover "peaches" is join! not literally my lover i just have a MAJOR crush on him! he has the most gourgous eyes ever! OMG! i could just stare at him 4 hours... :) I even had a fantasy about him! (ok make that like 7 fantasies) each of them were in different places but the one that i remember the most was on the stonerific couch! He took my hand and led me downstairs to the couch. then i got on top of him and we started making out really hard (frenching) then i took off his shirt and ran my hands across his body (very smooth and hott) and then i guess he felt me up. I was in a tie tank top and a miniskirt and boots! talk about SEXAY! then i took of his jeans and he was shirtless with boxers on. then more stupid stuff happened but I'm way 2 lazy at the moment...So yeah anywayz spring break is pretty damn boring...so far at least...Well i better go cuz I'm getting kinda tired but i will update u with more of my "peachy" fantasies. 

As you can probably see, I not only was a horrific writer, but twisted, and way too horny as a 13 year old. 

I'm also willing to share with you fellow readers a song that I wrote about said Peaches. I used the song "American Pie," by Don McLean, but I imputed my special version, feel free to sing along!

1rst Verse: "A long long time ago, i can still remember how peaches use 2 make me smile. And i knew if i had my chance, then i would ask peaches 2 the dance. and maybe we would be happy for awhile. But november made me shiver, with all the m&ms i'd deliver. Bad news in front of me. OUCH! nicole just slapped me on the knee. I can't remember if i cried when i heard that he had lied. the day, peaches died" 

Chorus:  "So bye bye mr. peaches he died maybe gabby who's not that shabby will stop bein so shy. and good ol' girls were eaten fruitcake & pie singin this is the day peaches died....this is the day that peaches died." 

2nd Verse: "No do u believe in rock n roll and can the music save your pathetic soul, could you teach me how to dance super slow? Probably not but ANYWAYZ! WEll i kno that ur in luv wit her cauz she asked u "do u wanna make out? and u said sure!" You both threw off your clothes, now i think i have a stuffy nose. I was a funny girl who never got laid, with a chicken in one hand and an escalade, but i still knew they were in the shade the day, peaches died....i was singing, he was singin!

Chorus Repeat!

3rd Verse: Then i met a boy who played guitar and he offered me a cuban cigar...i just smiled and turned away. i walked down to the coffee shop, thats where me and peaches did the bop, but the owner said the jukebox wouldn't play....and in the streets i stood and screamed, no one paid attention as it seemed, No one in the town talked, i am now missing my purple and yellow sock. And the 3 girls that i admired most, dump truck, hot-wire, and Sydney the toast, they caught the last plane for the coast, the day..peaches died...and they were singing!

Final Chorus

Unfortunately, the "Peaches" saga came to an end after your typical Middle School drama went down and he dated other girls while I would stand in the background in my Sideline sweatshirt and watch helplessly. Once that happened, I documented it at the back page of my diary writing an official declaration of my broken heart from the agony and heartbreak of loving "Peaches."




Maybe if I had sung him the "Peaches Song," this tale would have ended differently.

So now that we have officially established that I am absolutely psychotic, feel free to poke fun at my flat ass as much as you want.

Anyone else have any heart wrenching love tales involving obsession and bad clothing decisions from their glory days?