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? 

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

The Great Shaving Debacle

I fucking hate shaving. I hate how tedious it is, how time consuming it is, my back starts to hurt, shaving cream is expensive, and I always, ALWAYS, cut myself. 

The worst is when you nick your vag, ouch. Chop that hoe!


They didn't have any pictures of a woman cutting her vagina shaving, sorry. 

As much as I hate shaving, I hate hair, and there is no way in hell I can afford laser hair removal, otherwise I would use it on every inch of my body. So alas, I am forced to take the extra ten minutes to shave my body.

We shave because we want to feel clean and fresh, and beautiful. But has anyone ever noticed that every time you shave, you don't get any play? For me in the past, I felt that every time I took the time to look attractive, I never had any success. But when I didn't give a shit and just wanted to go out and get drunk with my girls, I scored. WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPEN. And I know other people have expressed their frustration with this issue, so for once, I'm not the only hairy duckling. 

For the women who do shave and score, congratulations, now teach me your fucking secrets. 

One time a few years back, okay maybe several months ago, I went out on a random Thursday night and got extremely intoxicated and my boyfriend at the time wanted to come over and hang out. I panicked because I knew that I didn't shave. So I left the party early just so I could come home and trim my Christmas tree. I went to the bathroom the next morning to brush my teeth and saw my razor at the sink. Then I examined my lower region and found a desert plateau. Who on earth leaves a party to come home and shave? This bitch does. 

Does anyone else have any shaving horror stories? 

Also, Labor Day Weekend Highlight Recap:
1. A failed attempt at a foursome with women
2. Cougar Football Saturday
3. $2.50 Fireball Whiskey shots, again
4. Inquiring about a Bartending job while severely intoxicated
5. Eating everyone's leftover lettuce from their tacos


Thursday, September 1, 2011

How To Deal With The Awkward Morning After

First and foremost, I would like to thank my "roommate" M&M for suggesting that I blog about this common problem that we endure.

I am sure that a rather large percentage of us twenty somethings have experienced the awkward morning after. Katy Perry phrases it perfectly in her song, "Last Friday Night." So you took way too many shots of Tequila and somehow in your drunken stupor, attract the attention of the "cute" boy or girl lurking in the corner watching your every move. Now you two start talking or dancing together and your lips meet and from there, the rest is a baby in the making. Just kidding.

Now, you wake up around seven or eight in the morning and realize that you are either:
A) Naked and confused
B) Wearing half of your outfit last night and confused
C) Dressed in a bizarre assortment that you like to call pajamas, and still confused as fuck

Then you look to your left and realize to your horror that the person you were with last night was definitely not  on the scale of 10 attractive that you thought they were and are naked with a line of drool coming out of their mouth.

This is the moment when you ask yourself the age old question:

"WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED LAST NIGHT?"





If you have seen the amazing film, Coyote Ugly, they give a splendid definition of the Awkward Morning After and if your prospect from the night before is a grenade.
Here's Urban Dictionary's Definition:
A situation encountered after a night of consuming alcohol whereby a person, usually male, wakes the next morning in a strange bed with a sexual partner from the previous evening who is completely physically undesirable (see ugly, nasty, two bagger) and sleeping on the man's arm. The hapless male would rather gnaw off his own arm than wake the woman and have to face the ills of his intoxicated choices the previous evening. Originating from a phenomena whereby a coyote captured in a jaw trap will chew off its own leg to escape certain death. 
In case you find yourself in the middle of an Awkward Morning after scenario, my suggestion is to prod the crap out of them until they wake up. I like to prod them and give them a little wave or a "whoopsie daisy" smile. Then I like to say something that ends up being really awkward like, "Wow, that party was great last night wasn't it?" And then they give you the look like "well, obviously it was great, I'm in your bed you fucking moron." I personally think it's better to make small talk with your shacker rather than getting dressed in absolute silence. They say silence is golden, but in this situation, it makes everything more awkward.

It's better to get the shacker out early, any later, and shit just hits the awkward fan. I've had guys, like my recent nameless man, where we have both accidentally slept in until eleven or later. Now I've realized that I have not only missed my first class, but also missed breakfast.

So as you're chatting about the party or the weather or your favorite animal, whatever tickles your fancy, grab clothes immediately. I don't want to be parading around naked in the daylight in front of my shacker. Tequila makes everyone's body distorted, and mine is no exception. Not just because I am a self conscious woman, but I don't want my shacker to think he made the mistake of sleeping with a cream puff, and vice versa.

The awkward scramble of retrieving your clothing is over and it's time to show them the door, but this is the clincher part of the morning. I'll give you an example of my last morning after with said nameless guy who is nameless because I have absolutely no idea who the fuck he is. Stay class, Tron.

Me: "So...have a safe trip back?" 
Juicehead: "Yeah, I will...thanks"
Me: "Yeah...I have to go to class..."
Juicehead: "Okay...I have to go, but my phone is dead and I don't know where my friends are."
Me: "Sorry, good luck."

I beat a bit around the bush with this one, but I strongly advise you not to. My mentality is, get in, and get the fuck out. Don't linger around the front door staring at the floor, dismiss the little bugger. Then Juicehead Nameless Man gave me the awkward one arm hug. THE FUCKING AWKWARD ONE ARMED HUG. 

We all know about this bitch. But it's probably the most appropriate for someone that you don't know. I would say this is your best way to seal the goodbye with the one armed hug. Don't forget the awkward side pat on the side that goes along with the one armed hug. Then promptly dismiss your shacker from your residence and bid them "Adieu!" Because they get to go embark on the "Walk of Shame", which really should be the "Stride of Pride."

Also, a word about exchanging numbers. You probably got the number the night before when you were somewhat coherent. No one likes exchanging digits in the morning, because that just creates more delayed awkward banter at the front door, especially if you don't know their name. Then you'll get a text once they leave saying, "Hey, this is Randy from last night, hope we can hang out again." Oh, good to know Randy, because I was really hoping that we could go get coffee sober so we can try to make ourselves feel better and give each other false hope that maybe we can have a relationship after a blacked out one night stand. Because when we go on that coffee date, all I'll be thinking about is your gangly body and you smelling like vomit and Sweet Tea Vodka.

So Ladies and Gentleman, a quick overview to prepare you for your next Awkward Morning After:
1. Drinking Tequila will lessen the odds of having an Awkward Morning After
2. If you do embark on the Tequila train, make sure your shacker leaves early. The later your shacker remains at your residence, the more awkward for the both of you, and makes it more humorous for your roommates.
3. At least walk them to the front door, unless the shacker has already made a run for it while you were still in a drunken coma. That way they don't have to ask where the front door is, much to your roommates amusement.
4. When saying goodbye, usually opt for the awkward hug, unless you feel appropriate to kiss them. Even a friendly wave will suffice for saying toodles.

If anyone has any other ideas or topics for me to blog about, don't hesitate to shoot me an email: g.mccone@hotmail.com