Monday, July 30, 2012

The Golden Platter Chronicles

As promised, here is a guest post from our fine friends over at Adam &

The summer of 2010 was by and far my sluttiest summer yet. It began the way all slutfests begin:at the conclusion of a dead relationship. That summer, I made out with a randy guy on the back of a bar patio, I got handsy with an old fling on the front steps of a brewery. I drank my way into my manager's pants. I spent a few evenings in the bed of a summer fling who lived at the beach (the best kind of fling). I hooked up with someone on top of a dog crate outside of a house party and I sent a lot of late night sexts to an old friends-with-benefits. Truthfully, it was the greatest summer yet. I was 23, bartending for a living and had nothing to lose. My days ended at 7am and started at 2pm on a float in a pool. I had my whole life ahead of me, so I spent my summer running around, presenting my vajayjay on a golden platter.

But that summer, I also had something happen to me, something that had never happened to me before...

It was days before 4th of July. I was standing in the liquor cage at work when a bearded coworker of mine walked in and told me he and his girlfriend had broken up. I was still revelling in my break up bliss, so I told him I was sorry to hear that, but that he'd be enjoying himself again soon. Clearly, I'm a good friend with great advice.

The next night, I found myself out with the beard and other friends. We were drinking, dancing and having a great time. Beard invited all of us back to his house for the post party. I went gladly and with each tequila shot I downed he started to look more and more attractive. Finally as it neared 5, I declared that I would not be driving home as I was too drunk to drive. The beard offered me a portion of his bed and I took him up on his offer--smiling, knowing that my tequila-fused decision was a good one.

He attacked me with a decent amount of force once we stepped inside his room, but my tequila over-rode it and took charge. I felt like dominating that night. I threw him up against the wall and showed him what a slutty summer could teach you. We made out in the messy way you do when you're too drunk to focus and hastily groped each other like high school virgins.

We fooled around for a bit, but I was growing restless. I'm all game for a full course meal, but I like to get my appetizer on first, so I pushed him on his back and slithered between his knees. Now I take pride in my beej skills. They've been honed, perfected and praised. It is an art that I have a black belt in, but on this night, I was proven wrong.

I gave it my all, incorporated as much tongue, hand, suction and balls as I possibly could, but he just wasn't staying hard--not a sight I like to see, so I tried harder and harder still. As I found myself deep throating this bearded man, a startling sound passed my ears. A slow, bass driven rumble. I paused...what is that? I looked up between his still knees and saw something I've never seen. There he was, beard and all, open mouthed, fast asleep and snoring.

Excuse me? I don't think so. I rummaged through his bed to find my missing clothes, dressed quickly and grabbed my bag. I looked at him and noticed how he was a little overweight and sleeping on a mattress on the ground. The clock read 7am. I left wondering what I was doing with my life. I headed home and went straight to my sex drawer. He couldn't finish the job, so I had to. I fell asleep a little before eight, happily alone.

If you've had a recent experience and need a little something to take care of somebody's ineptitude, head over to Adam & Eve, where their toys will never fall asleep!

Friday, July 27, 2012

Ay, Carumba!

Is it just me, or does the 2012 olympic logo look like Lisa Simpson giving Bart a handjob?

Now that i've made this mental connection, i simply CANNOT 'unthink' it whenever i see it.

It's really tainted the grandeur and majesty of the upcoming games.  I feel violated.

And a little turned on.

Am i the only one?  Check it out.

On another note, i received the guest post from the company i was talking about earlier in the week.  It's alittle........ more randy......than i anticipated.  But, they are paying me greenbacks to put it up, so get ready to have your virgin eyes scorched raw in the next day or so.  Fair warning

Tuesday, July 24, 2012

Selling Out To The Man

You very well might be seeing some corporate shilling going on around here before long.

Back when I started this blog, I didn’t intend to make any money from it.  Hell, no one ever came here except me and one or two members of my family, and the occasional pervert (also a member of my family).

Then, a few years back, they started that ‘Google Ads’ thing, so I started putting ads on this site.  I got a few cents per click, and in the beginning the money was accumulating REALLY damn slowly…. 

Like, a ‘nickel a week’ slowly.

Then, the rate I was earning money started slowly increasing.  Then, the money REALLY started picking up.  Near the end, I was earning over $10 a day.  Since Google only pays you out when you pass the $100 mark, I FINALLY thought that all the typing that my pretty fingers were doing  was finally going to give me some scratch.

Then, because Google is run by a bunch of evil asshats, I got ‘audited’ when I passed $100, and I got an automated email saying that they suspected fraudulent activity and that they would NOT be paying me out and my account was suspended. 

When I got that email, I was like ‘Wtf!?”  Here I was, shilling for them for about a year, and then they pulled the rug out from under me when I was finally about to get some dough?  After I got booted from the  program, I Googled what happened to me (ah, the irony!), and found stories from THOUSANDS of other bloggers who got fucked the same way  (none as gorgeous as me, though… although I’m not sure that’s relevant).

It hasn’t ALL been bad in terms of making some scratch, though.  A few times I’ve been approached by companies who offered to give me money for inserting links to their sites (one a reputable Jewelry store) embedded in old posts.  When they first approached me, I thought it was all a bullshit scam but in the end, I DID get paid.  That’s happened here and there over the years, but it certainly hasn’t been enough money to retire from.

Anyway, the point of this post is that earlier this week, I got approached by a company who offered to pay me a not-insignificant amount of money if they could send me a guest post.  AND, it’s actually a company that I’ve heard of.  They sell ‘adult’ items (and no, I don’t mean turtlenecks).

I asked Fritz what I should do, pretty positive that I knew what her answer would be, and was quite surprised when she said “Are you fucking kidding me?  Do it!”

So yeah, I probably will do it, and you may very well be seeing an infomercial for double-headed dildos here in the near future….

… just like the ones that are on television at 4A.M. every morning…..

… Except without Suzanne Summers…..

… and with dildos.

So, will you all still respect me in the morning if I get a little sumthin sumthin on the side?  A girl’s gotta eat, ya know. 

I promise that I’ll use protection.

Thursday, July 19, 2012

The Night The Lights Went Out In Georgia

Why is it that I have yet to meet a woman who can turn off a light when they aren’t using it?

It’s really fucking aggravating.  Fritz will come home from work, and you would certainly not have to be fucking C.S.I. to figure out her exact path through the house. 

No, all you would have to do is start at our front door, and follow the trail of light fixtures that have been turned on.  Oh, and bring your fucking sunglasses because it’s about to get mighty bright up in here!

I mean seriously, I am the furthest thing in the world from a skinflint, but there is just no damn reason to leave every fucking light in the house on.  I swear, I spend half my night shutting off the same hallway light every 20 minutes or so.  When I come home to a house that’s lit up from the outside like a fucking Jack-O-Lantern, I can just imagine my energy dial on the side of the house, happily spinning away like a fucking dreidel.

Once I brought it up to her that she leaves too many damn lights on, and I was treated to an outright fucking denial. 

“Oh please!  You’re exaggerating!   I don’t leave the lights on very often at all.”

This outright REFUSAL to accept the facts pissed me off to the point where now, every time I walk into a room where the lights are on and no one is present, I yell out, “OK, the lights are on in here!  I’m shutting them off now!  This is the third time tonight!”

And on and on and on I go, counting off the number of times I shut the lights off.  I feel like I should be on fucking Sesame Street.

It really is quite selfish of her.  I mean, in the great game of life, she took top honors and won ME, the best prize of all!

The LEAST she could do is be a team player and not make me feel like I am center stage in a Broadway play every time I use the bathroom.

I feel like I should be making fucking Jazz Hands every time I take a leak…..

Tuesday, July 17, 2012


I have been unjustly branded a criminal.

But I’ve been framed, I tells ya!

And I think I might need the help of you fine upstanding citizens to help clear my good name.

The other day, I posted on Earl’s site.  It was one of my typically witty and insightful comments.  You know, just like ALL of my comments always are.  I think it had to do with pee-pees.

Anyway, after I commented, I saw that my comment was, in fact, attached to the post.

The next day, however, I noticed that my comment was gone.  Figuring that the little prick was fucking with me and deleted it, I commented again.  Later that day, I noticed that the new comment was gone, too.

Over the course of the week, I commented a few more times on his blog, but always noticed that the comments were gone the next day.  Again, I really didn’t think too much of it… I just thought his naturaly childish and immature nature was making him screw with me.

But then yesterday, I posted on another of your fine blogs, only to notice later in the day that my comment was no longer THERE, either.

So, I finally broke down and forced myself to actually speak with Earl.  He’s usually much easier to stomach if you can communicate with him thru email, rather than on the phone, but I figured this demanded more personal action. 

After swearing to me that he never saw any of my comments, I asked him to check his spam folder.  Sure enough, all of my comments were there.

So, I’m guessing, all of my comments that I have left on ANY of your blogs that use Blogger are in YOUR spam folders, too.

See?  I haven’t forgotten about you… I’ve just been branded a criminal by The Man.

So, my questions to all you sexy people out there…..

A)     How the fuck did I get branded as a spammer?  I haven’t sent anyone a Viagra email in weeks!

B)      How do I get UN-branded?  I Googled it and it sounds like if enough blogs check their spam folder and “mark my comment as not spam” then the system learns that I am not a spammer.  Earl tried that last night and I am STILL public enemy # 1.

C)      Has this ever happened to anyone else out there?  I’d hate to think that my comments are so vile and unkempt that I am the FIRST blogger that the system has deemed unworthy enough to have the privilege of leaving a comment.

So, that’s my pickle.  Can anyone out there give me any assistance?

Help me, Obi Wan Kanobi… you’re my only hope……

Thursday, July 12, 2012

Oh Al...... How Could You?

Al, Al, Al.........

Maybe I accidentally hit my head recently and maybe as we speak I am living in a hallucinogenic alternate dimension within my own subconscious, but wasn't there a time when Al Pacino was one of the greatest actors of our time?

I mean, the dude was a respected actor, wasn't he?  Scarface, Dog Day Afternoon, Scent of a Woman.  I even seem to remember him being in a little independent film called THE FUCKING GODFATHER!!!! (although i do believe that in the U.S. release, they dropped the 'fucking' from the title.

Anyway, for the past few months, Mini-Me has been busting my chops to see the Adam Sandler movie Jack and Jill.

You remember that piece of shit film, don't you?  It's the movie where Adam Sandler puts on a dress and plays the part of his TWIN SISTER!

Yes, you read that correctly.  His SISTER!  Do you get it?  Adam Sandler is a GUY!  And he's dressing up like a GIRL!  Holy shit that is some funny stuff!  Why hasn't Hollywood ever thought of that idea before???

Anyway, because i am the best dad ever, last weekend we sat down to finally watch this masterpiece.

Holy fuck, i knew it was going to be awful, but the thing is, it's NOT awful.

It's......  It's......

Honestly, i don't have a word for it.  Calling it 'awful' would be an insult for all the fine things in this world that worked hard and busted their ass to attain the title of 'awful'.

This movie leaves me speechless.

And it's not so much because of Adam Sandler.  Mr. Sandler has LONG ago proven to me beyond a shadow of a doubt that he can't make a funny movie.  So, i wasn't surprised there.

No, what threw me for a fucking loop was the fact that he got AL FUCKING PACINO to star in this movie with him!

I still can't wrap my head around it, but let me summarize the movie in a nutshell for you:

Adam Sandler has a twin sister who is a pain in the ass.  Adam, meanwhile, owns an advertising company who is going to lose his business if he can't get Al Pacino to star in his new Dunkin' Donuts commerical, advertising their new coffee, the "Don-Cachino".

I'll fast forward about 84 minutes, and just ruin the whole movie for you by showing you the final 2 minutes.

You ready?  Ok, here we go......

Can you believe what you just fucking saw?

Al Pacino. That was Al Pacino.

That's right. That was Michael fucking Corleone singing and dancing, quoting lines from his most famous films, while dancing around with a walking cup of coffee.

I have no words to explain what might have possessed him to do this....

And it's not even the SLIGHTEST bit funny. It's just.... cringe-worthy.

Well played, Mr. Sandler. You have bested me this time. How you managed to sink to this all new, world-record-breaking low still baffles me.

Well played, indeed.

Thursday, July 05, 2012

Feelin' Groovy

So, i went to a 70's party last weekend.

Can you tell?

Of course you can.  You're quick like that.

Anyway, because I take my method acting very seriously, i really wanted to go full-throttle get into character.  I borrowed the clothes from an old hippy friend of mine, and then set about trying to get my face all 70's-like.

I went to the local costume shop to buy myself the afro, and while i was there i bought the fake sideburns and 'stache.

Then i got home and cursed in the mirror for 30 minutes because the fucking things wouldn't stay on.

Then i went back to the party store and bought some of that Spirit Gum that is SUPPOSED to help keep shit like that on your face.  The gum ended up working even worse than the shitty tape that came with the getup.

So, that's when i stubbornly decided that i still had 2 weeks before the party and i could damn well grow my OWN mustache and sideburns in that amount of time.  And dammit if i didn't pull it off.

Anyway, I was just looking through the pictures of the party and i noticed something....... disturbing.  There is a definite 'down-slide' to my general appearance as the night wore on.  This came as somewhat of a disappointment to me, because i really thought i was actually keeping myself together at an alcoholic social function, for once.

Let's elaborate with some more pics, shall we?

The banner pic is me, all primped and composed, ready to head out to the party.

Here I am about an hour or so in.  I think i'm still holding myself together nicely.

Then things started to take a turn for the worse.  The Patron and jelly shots were starting to take their toll....

I don't really remember taking this picture, but at least i still recognize the people i've got my arm around.  I DO know that shortly after this picture, I remember grabbing a tray of  Jello shots to see if i could finish them all off.....

.... which might POSSIBLY be a factor of my face in THIS picture....
 It goes without saying that i most definitely do NOT remember taking this one.

Which brings us to our final picture.  I don't really have any words for it, except to point out to everyone that at least I only TOOK this picture, and wasn't involved (for once).....

Yeah, I can see that one going right in the family photo album.  Right next to Aunt Clara's 50th anniversary pictures.