Tag Archives: drink

Rule #31: Visiting a gay club is one of the greatest ego boosts known to the straight woman.

9 Jul

I love going to the gay club. I don’t have to worry about getting too drunk. If you have been to a gay club than you know that they typically make drinks strong enough to kill a baby, womb dwelling or otherwise. I have a strong habit of getting so drunk that I sit on a bar stool and make eyes at all of the young gentlemen sitting around me. At a straight bar, this would get me in so much trouble, that I’d have to go to a gay bar and drink my babies away*

Anyways, I have recently attended this said gay club with a few friends of mine. I have never felt so beautiful. The men there have no fear of rejection from a woman, so they will compliment at will. One of the most common compliments: GIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRL, you are so beautiful! If only I was straight I would totally bang you.

So hold up. I understand that Beyonce (maybe Cher, and a close third place can be designated to Celine Dion) is probably one of the only woman capable of turning gay men straight, but when you constantly remind me that I’m at a club where there is no chance of me getting laid whatsoever. But then I think to myself that I should go to a straight club, not get told that I’m totally bangable and get banged anyways. At the very least, I’ll get eye-fucked. Either way, I’m back to the straight bar scenario mentioned in the first paragraph of this post. So then I decide to stay at the gay club with beautiful men who actually appreciate the fact that I bought this new pair of Steve Maddens…ON SALE! I’ll get told I’m beautiful and get some wonderful fashion tips along the way.

Some times I wonder if men believe that woman are vein enough to have an entire conversation based on lipstick, so that’s what they compliment. But I don’t really care. They’re right, I COULD talk for hours about lipstick.

Later, I learned that many times the gay foreigner to the friend group may be hitting on the straight woman as a way to show her hot gay friend that they are straight friendly and open the windows to conversation and gay mating. I once had a man pull me off the dance stage to warn me that I might trip on how beautiful I am…he definitely had ulterior motives. First, he invited me to his strip club where he dances and then asked if my brother was gay. Like I want my brother dating a male stripper. But this tiny fact can be easily overlooked as beautiful (gay) men continue to fawn over my beauty.

 

 

*Fetal alcohol syndrome is a real threat to a womb child’s health. The only way to kill a fetus with booze is by killing yourself first. Those resilient little buggers might even live through that, so best to not get pregnant in the first place.

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Rule #27: Ugly Girls Masterbate.

12 Jun

Because all girls masturbate.

Since that first N*SYNC video that gave you the tingles to seeing that beautiful underage man take his shirt off and like his lips we’ve all been itching to rub our junk on the nearest piece of furniture. Don’t even try hiding that you did it. Usher’s 8701 was playing in your bedroom alone when I first felt those tingles. What? Usher, I remind you of a girl that you once knew? Fine, I’ll discover my clit. I even remember this lonely little girl that would sit on her foot in her second grade classroom and jump around on it. I had no idea why the teacher was constantly getting on her case about this heavy rubbing business and thought it was a far graver mistake to pick your nose with a pencil eraser as Kevin next to me would do all day.

But I’ll hand out my dosage of honesty here. I had no idea that I was flicking the bean until my Best Friend was wasted one night and ranting and raving about how playing finger tennis is her best form of exercise. She had never had such a wonderful time alone as when she’s flapping those butterfly wings. It’s like fun abstinence!! Sometimes letting the dam loose by yourself gets the flowers watered much better than any man could. Sometimes thinking of innuendos for folding the linens is much more fun than taking down the mini tent. Once one girl admits her crime of rebuilding London’s bridge, then the door is opened to so many other conversations, such as this one I found on Urban Dictionary:

http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=masturbation%20for%20girls

That girl was strange and maybe should keep her water fetishes between her thighs, but whatever gets the job done! Heck, I might even try that tonight…no. Now. Brb.

Didn’t really work. One of the many reasons that us girls have to man up and talk about how we jelly our beans. The vagina is a very complex machine with gears and doohickies flopping around every which way. There is no way that a man is going to uncover the mysteries of this machine if the machine owner is not willing to give it a test drive. Every single perchina is different, which is exactly why every woman must frost her cupcake. It’s so sad that we don’t talk about it! How in the world are we going to figure out the tricks of the trade if my girlfriends won’t even talk to me about how they fluff their pussy? How are we going to screw the driver? How in the world will that cat get let out???

So ladies, have some confidence. Open that discussion. Make things happen for yourself and things will be so much better for yourself by yourself.

Rule #26: The bro code is bogus.

5 Jun

Perhaps I am inadvertently discrediting my own current blog, but I had an experience this weekend to show how bogus the bro code is when bros can’t even properly decode a situation where a woman is involved. These rules in the letters to my eggs, however, are already bogus because my eggs will never read them. I recently had an experience where the bro code was even more highly violated by enforcing the bro code; proving it’s inefficiency.

There was once this coworker of mine who I got along with nicely. I would even go as far as to say that he was my first friend at my new job, but I was not interested. He was nice, but frankly, overwhelming and obnoxious; therefore lonely. Since you can’t drink when you’re bartending and bar cherries, pickles and olives just cannot sustain a human diet, I have been known to drink a virgin Bloody Mary for dinner. Something about the zest fills me up like a Latino penis. Anyways, I would like to make it as obvious as possible that my drink is a virgin because virgin jokes are quite becoming. Lots of jokes run around about this: Vivian is eating the virgin again. Vivian has never sucked a virgin so quickly. Vivian is as virgin as her drink isn’t.

Anyways, somehow this translated into lonely bartender asking about how my virgin Bloody Mary’s dating life was. I answer with the most obvious answer: Obviously not great; still a virgin. Somehow he thought that that meant I was still a virgin. I don’t even understand how men think that that is sexy. There is nothing attractive to me about an inexperienced bed-mate who probably knows nothing more than to thrust rapidly or lay there like a dead starfish. Anyways, after his shift when he got wasted, he brought up the idea of my drink being a virgin again. I didn’t think it was possible for there to be more jokes about me/drink being a virgin. But this wasn’t a joke. He offered to change my joke of a virginity status by asking me out on a date. I say nay nay because he was obnoxious and now wasted.

Meanwhile, I was feeding shots to this hottie tottie slut in a red dress. If you wear a red dress to the bars on a Tuesday, you’re begging to be fucked. There was the fact of the dress, and that she was begging to be fucked. Almost immediately after lonely bartender had asked me out, she went and started grinding on him. She was sexy and he was wasted, so no judgement was made on my part. It was a busy night so I further occupied myself with the less creepy customers who actually tipped. What happened next I only caught glimpses of from my peripheral.

Apparently, slutty red dress had gone up to one of the sober bouncers and purposely knocked a drink out of his hands. They both looked at it and she says “I’ll get it.” She literally did the bend and snap. The cup came up cupping her C-cups with her ass on his weenie. You go girl! The bouncer said that he would have totally gotten her number, except that lonely bartender was already taking her home to fuck her.

BRO CODE VIOLATION! By the bouncer telling me this story, he may have allowed for one night of fucking, but he definitely ruined all chances of lonely bartender to hit it with me on the regular.

Why the bro code is a failure is because too many bros know about the bro code and insist on bragging about it. With girls, it is more of an unspoken code. We must be respectful of each other and our prerogatives. Slutty red dress was trying to get her pussy wet and I wasn’t about to stop her.

Rule #1: If you must cheat, cheat up.

24 May

I’m about as big of fan of cheating as I am of being constipated. It is not fun to do the cheating or be cheated on (to continue the metaphor, it’s not fun to squeeze a turd or be the turd being squeezed out).  My first relationship was when I was 18. It happened so late in life  because I was extremely unfortunate looking in high school.  Not ugly, no, but it’s amazing what a pair of cargo shorts, braces and untrimmed hair can do for your sex appeal. I would like to think that my late blooming arranged for me to develop a sense of humor to cope with the fact that all of my friends had boys to waddle by at middle school dances while I was off in the corner hitting a volleyball against the wall.  If we wanted to really get creative here, we can imagine that an angry witch saw my beauty as a baby and cast a spell of monstrosity against me to protect my tender youthful years from all the dangers of beauty turning you into a rampant slut. Anyways, when I turned 18 the spell of my ugly youth had been lifted.  I had my first boyfriend and I was convinced that we were meant to be. His name was Seth and he was as dorky as he was bowlegged. We really understand each other, you know…YOU KNOW?! That’s what he told me anyways until a pregnancy test accidentally rolled out of his pocket and into my world as a sign that men can never be trusted. I was obviously a virgin.

Allow me to describe his ex-girlfriend/woman he was pounding on the side. She was a dandruff ridden mongol with exposed gums, bee stings where her boobettes should be and an arid emotional deficiency. Excuse my rudeness, but whenever a girl is left for another, isn’t it in our nature to tear the other apart? It’s literally in our genes from the caveman days to compete for men. If you had no man to defend you and provide for you, how is your vagina supposed to feed itself?!?

Now, as I had recently bloomed into perky boobs and a still had that teenager skinny sex-pot of a body, I was so confused. I had spent 18 years evolving my personality so that I did not have to worry about looks, and now I was a total package! I could be someone’s perfect mate, but I am not acceptable even at my prime? The lesson learned here is that looks are irrelevant when it comes to chemistry.  One lesson learned here, anyways. If a man-boy has felt strong emotional ties to a woman-girl for quite some time, it is nearly impossible to sever those ties, even if you swear she has fleas.

Back to the premise of this rule.  This experience has no doubt left me emotionally scarred.  I had thought that I was unstoppable, and in retrospect, I was and still am. Power to the woman who can be hurt, but jump right back in the game and still get men to flock to her like the salmon of Capistrano!  But there are those dark days where I sit and wonder, even if I was the perfect woman, why is it that he chose her? I would feel a lot better about myself if he would have delighted himself in the tenderloins of Jessica Biel or some other knockout, because then I would know that he wasn’t interested in me because of my looks. To cheat on an me with an ugly woman, however, undermines everything about myself that I had been trying to perfect for the first long and painfully awkward years of my life. At least my looks, I can’t really change. I can become Mary-Kate Olsen skinny or be looking like Precious, but I’m still the same girl.  I’ve always thought that if I stuck to my guns and just be the best person that I could possibly be, I would end up with the guy. And live in a castle. Apparently not. Looks can’t help you win a man and neither can your personality. What it comes down to is chemistry and timing; but even that is still up for debate.

A lot of things about the world are still up for debate. But as a favor from everyone in this world to everyone in this world. If you must cheat on someone, please cheat with someone who is clearly better than the one you are with. Otherwise, you leave the other person constantly debating with themselves about their worth as an individual without ever finding a definite answer as to what could possibly be the matter with them. I still have yet to pinpoint my flaws, perhaps there wasn’t one and we just didn’t have the right chemistry, but I will always question myself and what I am doing wrong in the relationship. Never cheat, but if you do, do it for simple reasons, like the new man is built like Goliath or inherited millions worth of daddy’s money. Make it obvious to the other person why they are so imperfect. Ellen DeGeneres and Portia de Rossi were both dating other people when they met, and when they did meet, the chemistry was so intense that they got a cab and immediately started going at it. But at least Ellen’s girlfriend can say “Oh well I get it, she’s dating a super model now.” and Portia’s ex can say “Ellen is fucking hilarious, I get it.” Make it obvious to the other person what they are lacking. Please don’t cheat with someone who is crusty and has a gaping hole where their personality should be.

P.S. Three years later, he apologized to me over Facebook chat. This leads me to believe that I perhaps have nothing wrong with me and he was just the asshole. But would an asshole apologize? Back to square one.