Friday, June 18, 2010

You can get cherries all year long. It is time for them to be picked!

I can’t stand a woman who holds on to her vagina like it is a sacred piece of artwork. I can’t stand a guy who wants to be in a serious relationship before he gets his taint licked. You don’t have to go on twelve dates before you give it up, just fuck them already!

Like I always say, it isn’t 1952 for Christ’s sake. Man up already and take control of your sexuality. Fucking on the first date isn’t a crime. What is the worst that is going to happen? You find out they have a small penis and leave? You find out she smells like a foul tampon? Great! Then you don’t need to do it again, get the fuck out and go meet somebody else.

Sex, next to respect and trust, is the most important thing in any relationship. If you wait too fucking long to find out your date is a fucking snore in the sack…you are setting yourself up for failure. Chemistry is important, but if she has some nasty meat curtains…that chemistry goes right down the tube.

I fuck on the first date if I want to and there is nothing wrong with it. A lot of people believe that if you want to be in a relationship, be respected, or get a second date, you shouldn’t have sex on the first date. That is horseshit. If you are lousy in bed or give a hand job instead of a blowjob, you are not going to get a second date anyway.

I think people who are going on dates in search of getting fucking married or to get in a serious relationship are psycho. People can smell desperation all over your vagina when you go on a date with a wedding or pregnancy on your mind. Everybody should be going on dates in order to get laid. If you focus on that, you will more than likely get laid, and get a second date.

When is the right date to have sex? What does somebody need to do in order to earn your fucking love juice? If you don’t have that hot chemistry on the first date, you never will. Do you need to meet your newfound love’s parents before you get porked? If he is paying for dinner, which these days is a shocker, you should let him give you the shocker.

A lot of my friends say they don’t want to be looked at as a slut by fucking on the first date, and I say, it isn’t 1952. If a chick waits more than three dates to have sex or at least blow you, I think she is a waste of your fucking time, and is looking for an engagement ring. Run! If a guy waits more than one date for sex, he is either a bible beater or has a seriously small cock. Don't give him a second date if he doesn't try!

My point is that dating shouldn’t be so serious. Dating should be fun, carefree, and about what is really important…rubbing warm wet body parts together. Nobody will ask you on a date because they they think you would be a good parent someday, it's because they sexually attracted to you. A good date should be full of sexual tension, good vodka, laughter, and a good roll in the hay. If you are good at what you do, then you will get a second date. If you are a fucking dud…that is why you don’t get a second date, not because you had sex with them.

Every day is full of selling yourself and getting yourself off. You sell yourself at work so you don’t get fired in this fucked up economy. You sell yourself when you want a little extra cheese on your pizza. You sell yourself when you want to get somebody’s phone number. Sell yourself when you are on a date, and have fun. Don’t put restrictions on a relationship you don’t even have yet. When you start making rules before you have even seen who is on the menu, you are a fucking dud and you deserve to be lonely and unsatisfied.

Ease up on the reigns and even let the horse tie you up with them. Just maybe, if you’re lucky, your date will have three friends come out of the closet and they all will have their way with you.

So get out there and focus on getting laid. If do want a relationship, it will come when you least expect it. When you are looking for something to happen that is when it never comes. Regret feels like shit, especially when you are stuck with a lousy lay.

I am going out tonight to emotionally abusive anybody who hasn't been laid within the last few months. Be very scared if that is you...I WILL find you!

Thursday, June 10, 2010

The Clock Strikes Two…You Want To Fuck Who?

Remember the time you fucked that fat chick? Or when you sat on your stinky short professor’s face? How about the time you masturbated while watching the WWE? I know I can’t be the only one who has done all three!

I always like to ask people, “Who is your sick fuck?” Everybody has either a story, or is crushin’ on that piece of shit none of their friends would dare to even hang out with.

Who is that one person you would lay it down for, if nobody would ever find out?

I’ve found it quite fascinating to hear all sorts of sick fucks. A sick fuck can be one of a few people. It can be somebody that you casually have sex with from time to time but would never dare include in your social circle, a disgusting crush that you have and wonder why, and last but not least…your fantasy sick fuck, that completely nasty celebrity that most people would cringe to think about sexually.

Yes, I have had my fair share of sick fucks.

The person I would NEVER admit to fucking was most likely because he was completely the opposite of me. In college, I was quite a wild child, as you can imagine. I wore every heavy metal t-shirt and slutty mini I could find at a thrift store, cared more about drugs and alcohol than a real education, and yet somehow got decent grades and graduated. I didn’t take college very seriously, only having sex. I had a thing for a popped collared, political junkie, faux hawk wearing preppie. Don’t judge.

It was almost like a challenge to get him to stare at my boobs once a day. After several emotionally abusive attacks toward him and a hot classroom later, I found myself at a lousy frat party wanting his spray tan to stain me. I was so obsessed; I had to make this sick fuck come true. That’s right, a few keg stands and a special red cup later, I was all his. This is an example of how I became “always a closer” later in life.

I think each person should have this type of opportunity at least once in life, no matter how old you are. You never really know if your sick fuck will actually be the person you have always looked for. Maybe Mr. Faux Hawk could have swept me off my feet? They do say opposites attract.

Ahhh the fantasy sick fuck. This is my favorite part, and where a lot of porn comes from. People want to stay clear of certain types of characters, but just can’t help masturbating to them.

For example, one of my closest friends claims her fantasy sick fuck is George Bush, my other friend, I swear, is secretly obsessed with Yanni. Yanni? How can anybody get off on a man that wears more sparkles than a grandmother in Reno? This makes me want to choke to death on my own vomit. That is one mustache I would not ride!

My fantasy sick fuck began as a tween. Luckily for me, my parents let me watch whatever I wanted on TV, and why wouldn't a little blonde girl want to watch some twisted nasty comedy? MY fantasy sick fuck shockingly is Andrew Dice Clay. I have never wanted to be Little Miss Muffet so bad.

I think people shouldn’t repress their sick fucks, but embrace them. There is something about that person that drives you wild, and it could be that it is different and rebellious. Don’t be shy. Try your sick fuck on for size. You just might be surprised that the shoe actually fits.

As I am sure you have read, I encourage everybody to expand their horizons and their portfolio. Sometimes you just might find that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, and if not…well, least you can store it in your spank bank.

I think I am going to go put on my leather jacket, smoke a cigarette, bust out the bullet, and listen to some good old fashion nursery rhymes.

I want a sick fuck confession list. Come on…inspire me!

Thursday, June 3, 2010

Did I say Fleet Week? I mean SKEET Week.

The first time I fucked a sailor during the Rose Festival, I had NO idea how fucking sick fleet week was. The first ship to come in and get gay men and Portland women wet was in 1907. Over 100 years ago bitches were getting together, putting on those hot garter belts and stockings, getting liquored up, and then getting pregnant. Nothing has changed, except now we have the Lovejoy clinic one century later. 

AHhhhh...nothing says STD like a rough and tough young sailor who doesn’t know where to put his cock. It is almost like your high school prom ALL over again! I just can't help but want to suck some sailor's face off. Tasty tall muscle men that aren’t from the skinny jean capital of the world…SIGN ME UP! It is like going on vacation and fucking the whole hotel and then coming home guilt free. That is fleet week. 

Why are women obsessed with a man in a uniform?

I have a friend who is a serial pig dater. I swear she is begging to get fucking pulled over so she can pull him out. I wouldn’t put it past her to take a goddamn sledgehammer to her breaks lights before she drives around downtown on a late night. That dirty whore gets wet even when we go out to breakfast and she gets a whiff of Miss Crispy bacon on the side sitting across the table from her.  

We just can’t help it. A man in a uniform is much better than the alternative, a man with a shitty job and a popped collar.  

Fleet week is like a dream come true. They actually run extra max and bus times just to support the dirty whores in Gresham and Hillsboro. It doesn’t matter what bar, restaurant, or shop you go to downtown during this week, you are always in for a muscle man treat. 

I find myself mindlessly shopping for panties, and I shit you not, I end up pantieless in a fucking photo booth outside the Ferris wheel. I used to think a mature woman would be past all this fleet week shit, but then I realized you can fuck them and never see them again. Nothing says maturity more than getting what you need and making yourself happy…in between your legs. Just call him Mr. Sailor, or chief boot knocka if he is higher ranked.

Finally Sir Mix-a-Lot pays off in my blog. 

No matter how old a bitch is when June rolls around, she should be dumb, young, and full of seaman cum. 

How can any woman, young or old, get more than her fair share of a sub sandwich? 

Wear a wedding ring! No matter if you are married or not, a sailor wants a dirty whore WITH commitments. You know that motherfucker doesn’t want to know your real name and have you facebook stalk him. He wants to just put it in your ass. Let’s be realistic, nobody is getting engaged at the Meet The Fleet Ball. 

Take your panties off.
I know that most women feel sexy and a bit dirty when going without their britches. Take them off and put it in his pocket. I promise, from personal experience, it is a guaranteed to get face fucked move. 

Throw a cougar kegger!
That’s right, military ID’s get in free and all your horny single, or unsingle girlfriends get to have some young fresh meat. Don’t you remember what it looks like when a dude without man boobs does a keg stand? It is like a porno for Christ sake! 

How can a straight man benefit off this holy horniness?
If you can’t beat em, join em.
Don’t be a fucking idiot; there are plenty of sailor costumes in Portland begging to be left on a slutty girl’s floor. That’s right, dress up and pretend to be a fucking sailor. By midnight ho’s will be all over you with no questions asked. Fucking score! 

Buy the MILF a cocktail already! If you are out in downtown Portland during this time, buy a lady a drink. With all the young whores with fake ID’s in the room, a man with some fucking class might walk out of there with a MILF or two? She is going to be so sick of competing with the 20-year-old plastic fuck doll, you won’t even have to tell her your name.

Befriend the American heroes.
Look for the dumb sailors that don't have many friends and offer to buy the heros a drink. Thank them for all they do for your country and before you know it, this little seaman will be attracting more sluts than a brand new Labrador puppy. Girls will find YOU more appealing just for supporting an American soldier. You’d be surprised how many dumb dudes hate and don’t take advantage.
All this talk of white tight pants and shirts bulging at the buttons of a man’s chest instead of his belly makes me so wet.  

If you want to find the Ramblin’ Broad this week, look for me waving good-bye from a ship as it sails away. I promise to still write every week, as long as you ship me whiskey in little scope bottles.