“Trust and believe…” in a damn fine ass.

Fun fact: when you look up “dat ass” in the dictionary, this is the photo you’ll see.

I’d apologize for objectifying him, but… hot damn, I wanna bite him. UNF.

“It would take a miracle.”

There’s a certain subset of men who will fall at the feet of any girl with a half-decent rack who knows the correct response to “Have fun storming the castle.”

I’ve been quite lucky that way.

I’m not hot enough to be THIS unappealing.

Friend: “He wants to date you. You like him, go!”
Me: “Nah, not yet. Not when I’m unemployed AND emotionally insane. I’m not cute enough to make that worthwhile for a guy. I know my place on the Hot/Crazy scale.”

“Soft kitty, warm kitty…”

I just found out today is National Cat Day. There’s a “pussy” joke to be made here, but I don’t have it in me.

“You’ll be my man-friend.”

Menfolk, I have a query for you.

A girl you’ve met casually a few times in a group setting asks you to go with her — just the two of you — to see a movie you’d chatted about briefly. Do you assume she’s hitting on you? (And if so, is that hot?) Or would you just figure she was being friendly based on mutual interest in the film?

Discuss, and feel free to ask friends.

This message will “Self” destruct.

Good job, Self magazine. Just when I’d concluded you exist only to offend me on behalf of all women, you manage to make all men sound like slothy asshats. Kudos.

Don’t stop ’til you get enough…

When I say “don’t stop” in bed, it’s because I don’t have the mental capacities to get out the full thought: “Don’t stop…because if you do, I’ll have to kill you, and I really don’t feel like going to jail.”

Much like The Dude, I’m into the whole brevity thing. (Not for the act itself, just discussion therein.)

Quotable quotables

“I personally don’t have a lot of respect for people that don’t have the courage to lose complete control of their life for a few years.”
— Marc Maron

Worst Little Whorehouse in Texas.

I’ve been combing through everything I’ve ever written, updating my resume and cover letter, and preparing to send it all to prospective employers. I am so mentally exhausted from “selling myself.” I don’t know how prostitutes do it. I haven’t even had to fuck anyone, merely blow them verbally, and I am BEAT. Kudos, ladies.

Gagging on my toothbrush this morning actually reminded me that I have limited prospects in prostitution as a fallback career. I’m going to have to find a job more suited to my shallow-throated skill set. Or, you know…just be an small-dick-only prostitute. But I have a feeling that’s an untapped (heh) market for a reason — no dude is gonna go to the small-dick-exclusive whorehouse. Worst niche ever.

Sincere flattery is the sincerest form of flattery.

I can’t speak for all women, but I personally have never objected to a random midday text that simply says, “Hi. You’re pretty.”

For me, it does get a bit old (and verge on insincere) when it happens TOO often, particularly when the guy isn’t bright enough to think of words other than “pretty.”

But for the moment, squee.