Thanks in advance for my multiple orgasms.

Dear David at the Barnes & Noble Café in Plymouth Meeting, PA,

I hadn’t been planning to masturbate tonight, but upon sight of you, now I realize I must. Thank you for your inspiration. You are my clitoral muse.

Best,
The Blushing Woman/Cold Brew & Scone

P.S. Couldn’t help but notice your finger didn’t have a ring on it. Those are my second favorite kinds of fingers. Give me a call, I’ll show you how we make ’em my first favorite.

EDIT: Goddammit! What a tragic waste of being asked, “Room for cream?”!

This holiday season, give the gift of kissing my ass.

During holiday seasons I love to torture myself by looking at those bullshit “for her” and “for him” gift recommendation lists.

For instance, BN.com recommends “for him” all this sweet Star Wars and Doctor Who stuff, Rodin “Thinker” bookends, and cool beer/gin kits. And “for her,” a bunch of fucking candles and tote bags and tea sets, and what looks like every pink gift item they sell.

Kiss my dick, Barnes & Noble.

I will admit, I love candles and pink stuff. But I also like beer and gin, dammit, and I do, um, THINK, at least often enough to enjoy “Thinker” bookends. Plus I know tons of ladies who’d enjoy Star Wars/Doctor Who swag. Hmph.

Mad props to LivingSocial, though. Their “for her” gift guide has bourbon tastings, distillery tours, photography lessons, and race car experience packages. (And Brazilian waxes, but eh, it’s still a good list of options. And, um… I’ll just go ahead and add that wax to my cart along with the bourbon tasting. That’s gonna be a weird day.)

 

Singleton/Poehler 2016!

Screw it, you guys — I am also running for president. 
The main focus of my platform will be universal pie and vibrators. In fact, by the end of my first term, I’d like us to have pie-brators. I’m not exactly sure what that would entail, but that’s where your generous funding comes in. Together, we can make the merging of baked goods and sex toys a glorious (if sticky) wave of the future. And gentlemen, I didn’t forget you — check my website to read all about my Fleshlight Freedom Initiative, coming (heh) in 2017. 

Other key priorities of my campaign: 

• Naps. 
• Very low-dose Xanax in the drinking water. (I promise not to create Reavers.)
• Once-monthly days off for when you just can’t even, and also for when the weather is too nice to go to work. 
• Cute bras and clothes available in all sizes. 
• Food delivery through your TV, like when the Golden Girls have cheesecake, you can say, “TV, fetch me cheesecake,” and it WILL (see also: The Making “Fetch” Happen Doctrine — we’re gonna do it!)
• Freedom puppies. 
• A constitutional amendment banning alarm clocks.
• All establishments that serve coffee shall also deliver it. 
• Barnes and Noble stores all get converted to huge, constantly-restocked libraries where you can just take books as you choose and return them if/when you feel like it. (Again, you send me money, I’ll work out the logistics.)

Stephen Colbert is Secretary of Everything; Anna Kendrick will be my Ambassador of Stuff. 

Neil deGrasse Tyson and Bill Nye are the new co-leaders of the EPA.

And Amy Poehler will be my VP. Obviously. 

So vote for me, people. With liberty, and punch and pie for all. 

Except for Donald Trump and Kanye West. No punch and pie for you. No.

For the word nerd with circulation issues!

We’ve already established that I’m an odd woman. I’m not that into flowers, I don’t wear a lot of jewelry, and I’m picky about candy. (Especially Whitman’s samplers — seriously, how the everloving fuck are those still around?) And we’ve discussed the giant, mutant teddy bear.

Basically, all that shit they try to sell men on Valentine’s Day, I want no part of. I don’t know many women who do.

But this is a Valentine’s gift I can get behind. And one that will get you behind me.
I’m always cold, especially with this clusterfuck of a Northeast winter we’ve been having. I love blankets, I love words, and, theoretically, I’d love you. I’d be wrapped in your love! I’d always have your love to keep me warm! Cheesy? Certainly. But I’d melt faster than low-end chocolate for that shit. Don’t judge me.