Brazzeriously?

Top 5 Cars I’m Never Getting Into…

Oh, cool, my trust issues got reinforced!

Because I have no impulse control, I sent a Facebook message that he saw an hour ago and didn’t answer, so… I guess that’s my answer. (Ahem…I may have also sent a follow-up. Also seen and unanswered.)

So I’m not being used for sex, but I DO trust people too easily and I AM a shit judge of character. Couldn’t even assemble the balls to be like, “Yeah, we’re done”?

Fine.

(For the record, I was right — hurts a little, but I know it’ll pass.)

Dude… You know people can SEE what you say on public sites, right?

So this is a town I used to live in and (now extra) thankfully left far behind.

Via Jezebel.com: NJ Candidate to Daily Beast Reporter: ‘Hope You Get Raped by a Syrian Refugee.

I chose the Jezebel piece because it has screenshots of what he actually said, which my local source probably couldn’t print because it’s goddamn vile. But if you have a minute, please DO check out the Philly.com article and get a gander at his HANDWRITTEN resignation letter (ON BLUE PAPER. IN ALL CAPS):

You are running for TOWNSHIP COMMITTEE in a small town in South Jersey—maybe don’t step to a journalist at a well-known NATIONAL news site with your psychotic, poorly punctuated bullshit? It still counts as a threat if you write like a first grader, shitheel.

Going for the gold in Fuckery

Via Huffington Post: The Media Is Saying And Doing A Bunch Of Sexist Stuff During The Olympics.

“A commentator said Team USA members looked like they ‘might as well be standing in the middle of a mall’ after they were caught on camera laughing and talking following their utter annihilation of the competition during the qualifying round.”

I really have nothing intelligent to say, but in fairness I think the only thing TO say is “Go fuck yourself.”

 

See also: “Katie Ledecky swims like a man.” [upon protest] “It was a compliment.” Seen in this second article, because there was enough bullshit to write two: Stop Attributing The Success Of Women Olympians To Men.

All his sex toys are Fisher Price

I have to post this screenshot of my OkCupid messages because I feel like you wouldn’t believe me otherwise.  

I cropped his name and all identifying info, but I will say he’s 20 and lives near my office, so if I ever want to feel like I’m fucking the youth out of someone on my lunch hour, this intrepid young lad is at the ready. Sold, Toddler. Let’s do this.

Hm. It’d be great if youth were an STD, like if I let this kid do things to me and suddenly I had tons more energy and drank hard lemonade and all my laugh lines were gone. Get on that, science. (Except the hard lemonade. Gross.)

I also love how this proposition is supposed to improve my mood, like, “Wow, that was a shitty day at work and those shoes made my feet hurt and I’m really not looking forward to that family gathering this weekend… But a Cub Scout wants to bang me, so wheeeeee!”

Yay, women! And also nipples!

I took a bit of a…vacation. We’ll call it a vacation.

And I was waiting for just the right time to come back to blogging, and lo, the Universe bestowed upon me this priceless bit of ad placement in a “Cosmopolitan” article titled “The 20 Best Moments for Women in 2014.”

Yay, women! And also nipples!

“My self-esteem’s not low enough to date you.”

Wow, really? Even your semi-drunk late-night solicitations of sex are boring?!

Congratulations, Fun Bobby. Jesus.

“The Men Who Stare at Boobies”

I’d like to take a moment and give props every grown-ass man who’s ever checked out my rack without grinning like a 10-year-old boy seeing boobies for the first time.

I didn’t even know it was possible, but apparently some of y’all are just that impressed, even just by cleavage. They’re boobs. Lots of us have ’em. (Hell, go to an amusement park or a beach — lots of YOU have ’em!) I know you like them, but goddamn with the gawping. I’m not your mom, they’re not a food source.

I don’t mind if you look, guys. I actually love that you look. But I can’t let you fuck me if my brain just decided that you’re 10. I have, like, six boundaries, and that’s a big one.

If you need to ogle, I’m fine with it, but for heaven’s sake, be cool about it! Or, more importantly, we’re adults, and we’ve had sex. You want to see them? You should know what it takes by now to get me topless. (Fun fact: it ain’t much.)

P.S. If I’m calling you juvenile? You can take that shit to the bank. I still laugh like Beavis every time anyone says “balls.” I know from immaturity.