I’m all about fitness — fitness whole dick in my mouth

Super cute OkCupid guy and I have tons in common, but he exercises every day and likes “fit” women.

OK, listen — I am not fit. But I’m pretty sure you could fuck fitness into me. We should try. What if I’m Patient Zero for innovative new science? We could be pioneers!

Tell ya what: Go down on me for 10 minutes today, I’ll go for a run tomorrow. Solid exchange, no? Plus, bonus, the more we repeat this process, the thinner my thighs get, the easier you fit between them. BOOM, everybody wins.

And hey, if it doesn’t work, feel free to ditch my fat ass after a month. I’ll have intimacy anxiety by then, anyway.

I wouldn’t be allowed in Hot Sundae. But I could totally EAT a hot sundae.

I told a coworker I couldn’t run a mile if I tried, and she said, “Really? You look like you’re in shape.”

“Nooope. I’m SHAPED fine [as fuuuuuck*], but I am not IN shape.”

* [/ego trip]

Don’t ask, don’t tell.

My running game is totally sexy until you learn my headphones are blaring Mandy Moore’s “Candy.”

Ssshhh…

Who run the world? GIRLS.

Finally a GOOD story about a women’s magazine! I’m glad I subscribe to this one.

High five, Women’s Running! #WhoRunTheWorld? #GIRLS

Women’s Running praised for curvy cover model: ‘Runners come in all shapes and sizes’ 

Who run the (small) world? GIRLS.

I’m running a 5K this weekend, and OKCupid just presented me with a match who, in one of his profile photos, is wearing a shirt from the running club that’s organizing the event. So I might be running with this dude.

Damn, world! Way to be small!

Abstinence is bullshit.

Dear Body,

I’m really gonna need you to stop thinking about sex, ’cause…you’re not getting any. So can we, like, channel that tension elsewhere? Work? Running? Compulsive cleaning?

The Lelo is your friend. Embrace it. Love it. Let it love you. We’re not fucking right now. Suck it up. Oh…no, wait…

Love,
Brain

“Looks like there’s been some girl-on-girl crime here.”

I apparently have a lot of feelings today…

I hate women’s magazines, and Self in particular — it’s basically Marie Claire wearing sneakers — so I’m enjoying watching this tutu debacle unfold.
I don’t like running. At all. But part of the reason I still do it, and the main reason I pay to do races, is that runners are (generally) some supportive sons of bitches, and it makes me feel awesome to be part of that camaraderie.

And this? Is bullshit. I don’t give a baker’s fuck what that woman is wearing — she’s out there running. (While, I might add, SURVIVING CANCER.) I personally don’t do the tutu, but I’ve run in a tiara. Why? Because I CAN. I like running because you can do it in a tutu or tiara, or in high-tech running gear, and it’s all good. I know there are some judgey panda “real runners” out there, and you know what? Whatever. I’m having fun, and being active, and feeling good about ME.

As long as I’m wearing clothes, my friends who run aren’t gonna go all Regina George on me: “That is the ugliest effing tutu I’ve ever seen.” Because my friends aren’t assholes. And from what I’ve seen, particularly in this case, a lot of runners aren’t assholes, either.

So screw you, Self. And by the way, on Wednesdays, we wear pink. Pink tutus.

Supporting the Arts. With Nudity!

So I went to a sex shop last night. Like ya do.

And I think I figured out what I want for my next birthday. And how I want to decorate my apartment.

This is amazing. It’s like a Color Run. But instead of running, you get to roll around naked, which is just SO MUCH BETTER than running! You’re naked, and you throw paint on each other, and you tussle around on this blank canvas, and then it’s ART.

Fuck you, Degas — your silly little dancers totally should have done this.

Da Vinci, you bush-league bastard! Why didn’t YOU think of this?! Mona Lisa would have had a WAY bigger smile!

If you guys get this for me, and then also bring me a playmate (Wait! Make that an “artistic collaborator!”), I’ll SHOW you “Expressionism.” My birthday is in a couple of months. Make it so!