**Re-published by request. Original post appeared Sept 2010.
Let's face it kids; there are some things in this world that we just don't always have the time and patience to deal with.
As a kinda young, sorta hip, reasonably sexy woman, I am often faced with things that I don’t want. Emails about hair loss or Viagra, for example. Brazilian waxes. Math. And more often than not, boners.
So what’s a girl to do? A hand job may sound like a good idea but it can quickly become a trap; I learned when I was 17 that the ol' I’m-sure-you-can-do-it-better-yourself excuse will only mean you have a different job. A job called blow. In order to escape both of these, you’ll need to be crafty. Tricky. Horrifically unattractive. Here’s a list of my favorite lines for penis-proofing your evening:
-"Your wiener is so cute!" Men HATE it when you call their junk "cute". If he’s Jewish, be sure to note that he has a kosher wiener. Or, if hooking up with a Chinaman, call it a “Wang” and tug on the corner of your eyes while hissing “You like flied lice?” And I’ve found that black men don’t particularly like it when you refer to their penis as a “G-g-g-G UNIT!”
-"Don’t you love my new veneers? They look great, but my teeth are so sharp!" Elaborate using words like “shred” and “puncture”, and make many analogies to the recent Florida shark attacks.
-"I never knew you could get herpes of the hands, but there you go!" Drive the point home with a needlessly complex story about your “Summer of the Goats” on your Uncle Tucker's farm in rural Kentucky.
-"Can you help me put in my diaphragm?" Look, I don’t even know what the hell a diaphragm is. But I think they’re roughly the size and shape of a Frisbee and have something to do with electromagnetism. Chances are, he doesn’t know either. Just pull a random object out of your purse, like an eggbeater or bottle of Nyquil, and lay it expectantly in his hand. When he hesitates, burst into a smile and say, "Oh, Nick! I knew you wanted to have a baby!" This works especially well if his name isn’t Nick.
-"Guess what I have back at my place…?" His eyes will light up eagerly, visions of whipped cream and lesbian twins dancing in his wee head. Wait a few beats to up the anticipation, and then slap your limp wrist against your chest and slur, “Durrrrrrrr”!!! Do this again and again, upping the ante each time, adding drool, a mild seizure, and maybe even a pants crapping or two for good measure.
-"Damn, I'm ITCHY AS A MOTHERFUCKER!!" That's it. Works like a charm.
As you can see, it’s no easy task successfully diffusing a boner. But with good communication and a little thing I like to call “fake cramps”, you’ll be in a cab and on your way home in no time! Done and done!
Hey fellas! I know this is supposed to be "Guys' Night", but I thought you might be willing to make an exception for little ol' me. After all, I'm totally just like one of the guys!
I can completely understand your wanting to exclude females from this gathering. They can be such a pain! They demand too much attention, they're annoying, and they're just sooo high maintenance. Not me... I'm different! I'm not all hung up on labeling a relationship. I'm down for whatever, whenever, wherever. Hi-five!
Don't you hate it when girls are all stuck on what they look like? I'm not like that at all... check it out - jeans and a tiny, tiny t-shirt. Baseball cap with a ponytail through the back. No makeup (except a little mascara and some lip gloss). If that doesn't make it clear that I'm just like one of the guys, I don't know what does.
Who's up for some buffalo wings?
Hey, huddle up - guy talk for a sec. I just wanna make one thing clear... This is definitely not a transparent ploy to gain your attention. This is in no way some sad attempt to connect with you because it's the only way I know how.
Hey, can I be in your fantasy football league? I know I have no business being in it, but I'd love to be able to loudly announce to the guys at work that I'm in a fantasy football league and constantly talk about how my players are performing even though I have no idea what's going on and don't really care, because then they'd know that I'm just one of the guys! I think I'll draft Joe Montana with my first pick. Then I'll take LeBron James, followed by Indiana Jones.
By the way, I have two brothers and we always wrestle. It's a guy thing.
Why, yes, that IS a Maxim magazine on the back of my toilet next to my scented candle and decorative seashells. I have a subscription! Maxim is the best magazine ever - it's sooo funny. "Top Ten Reasons Why Sorority Girls Are Easy"... Oh my God - sooooo true!
I guess I've always been a tomboy at heart. When all the other little girls in my neighborhood were playing with dolls, I was playing baseball with the boys. I was horrible at it, and never had any real interest in the sport, but I got to wear pigtails and a cute jersey!
Wanna hear me burp the alphabet?
What's that? No, I don't mind if you ask my friend out. But just between us guys, she's a total slut and you probably wouldn't want anything to do with her. She doesn't even know when the Superbowl is. I mean, come on. Hey, just lookin' out, bro.
Who's down for some tackle football?
Every time I hear some tool screaming out offensive wolf calls to random, unsuspecting women, I can't help but wonder what they could possibly be thinking. Do they really believe, in their tiny little minds, that a declaration of "Hey girl, nice ass!" will receive a favorable reaction? Are the women they're accosting expected to reply, "Oh my God, THANK YOU!! Here, why don't you take my number and give me a call? I like your style, sir!" or something like that?
This morning, when one of the above mentioned asshats went out of his way to tell me that my ass is "phat with a p, shawty", I really began thinking about what must be happening in his brain. Who IS this guy? What does his thought process look like from his perspective? And here's what I've decided the inner dialogue of a douchebag must be...
Let me know if you agree.
"Hey, baby! I know where you want it, and I can put it there for you! No? WhatEVER, bitch!"
Yeah, I'm yelling at women from my fifteen year old sports car. I'm gonna peel out afterward, crank the volume on my stereo, and hi-five my friend in the passenger seat. And I'm gonna do it because the noise drowns out the sobbing in my head.
If I were to meet you face-to-face at a club, I'd avoid eye contact and look into my Long Island Iced Tea... but look who's avoiding eye contact now! HA HA HA - YEAH BABY.
I haven't been with a woman since I was 17 years old - she was 42. I met her after I yelled "Papa like-y!" and then rode my 10 speed into a ditch... she picked me up out of the ditch and... wait - hold that thought.
"Hey, you red-hot piece of scrumptious! I see what you're selling, and I wanna buy everything you've got in stock! No? Your loss, slut!"
- A teddy bear
- A sock
- Twelve different types of pillows
- A blow up doll
- A poster of Farrah Fawcett I found in my dad's closet
- A raw steak
- A banana peel
- A chicken breast (cooked, because Salmonella kills)
- A warm twinkie
- A 42 year old who picked me up out of a ditch when I crashed my 10-speed
In high school, I had only three friends; Tony, Marco, and Cody. Now I only have two friends; Tony and Cody. Marco ended up being gay, and when he told us, I punched him in the face and called him a faggot. What I really wanted to do was praise him for the courage to reveal such an emotional elephant to us, but I didn't because of the paralyzing fear in my gut that I find men attractive, too. Woah, look at this... TWO chicks at 2 o'clock! Hang on a second.
"What's up, bitches?? Wanna go for a ride? All the seats in this Chevy are occupied, but I could make some room for you.... ON MY FACE! No takers? Suit yourselves, cunts!"
Anyway, yeah... I yell things at women from my car. I yell "Nice ass!" and "Sweet tits!" and I scream "Stuck-up bitch!" or "Whore!" if they ignore me. I have no idea what I'd do if any of them actually answered me favorably. I doubt I perform well in bed, and would probably cry on the pillow next to them. But since that's never happened, I'll just keep on keepin' on.
After 2 straight months of diligently working on my game, I've decided to try something new, and invest in myself. I'll be playing the upcoming WSOPc series at Caesars, Atlantic City.
I'll be taking a stab at it in the following tournaments - if you happen to be in the area on these dates, feel free to stop by and wish me luck or slip me your room key.
Monday, March 4th - Event #4 - No-Limit Hold 'Em - $365 - Ring Event
Wednesday, March 6th - Event #6 - No-Limit Hold 'Em Six Max - $365 - Ring Event
Friday, March 8th - Event #9 - No-Limit Hold 'Em Turbo - $365 - Ring Event
Saturday, March 9th - Ladies No-Limit Hold 'Em - $250 - Non-Ring Event
Sunday, March 10th - Event #11 - No-Limit Hold 'Em - $365 - Ring Event
In the event that I should accidentally do something very right and FT one of those, I plan to play the Main Event as well, which is on Saturday, March 9th ($1675).
Good luck, me.
It is Sunday, October 28, 2012 5:33pm... At 5:29 pm, Dave Inselberg asked me to do a quick write entitled "Ten Ways To Use KY During A Hurricane."
I aim to please, so here you go, Dave...
Ten Ways To Use KY During A Hurricane
10.Smear it on your skin to serve as a rain barrier.
9. For ass fucking.
8. For ass fucking.
7. For ass fucking.
6. For ass fucking.
5. For ass fucking.
4. For ass fucking.
3. For ass fucking
2. For ass fucking.
1. For serious ass fucking.
Sometimes in life, the order in which certain events play out make you think that things really do happen for a reason...
Yesterday, or maybe the day before... actually, could have been 3 days ago - who knows? When you spend your life in poker rooms at 12 - 30 hours at a clip, the days all blend together. Anyway, SOMETIME earlier this week, I was doing my Twittah thang, and saw a tweet from @PetsAlive, a group dedicated to saving animals from euthanasia, about a dog named Max desperately needing a home. Something about this dog just got to me... I mean, look at him!!! I decided, on the spot, that I would rescue this dog from shelter life, and in return, he'd rescue me from a life of conditional love.