If you can't beat 'em, fuck 'em

hahaha I cannot stop reading this girls blog...http://the-momfia.blogspot.com...hilarious!!!


My New Years resolution was to become a bigger slut. Maybe that's not exactly a popular choice among the fake gym promises & carb-banning, but I was committed to having a resolution I could spread for. If you can't beat 'em, fuck 'em. Having made this resolution by 7pm on the last day of the year when I was already shit faced at a NHL hockey game, I decided in that moment of drunken clarity that this was going to be "THE YEAR OF THE SLUT"(not too unlike the Chinese year of the donkey). Having slept with a surprisingly low number of men and no lasting relationship to show for it, I decided to jump on the dick bandwagon and waste no time in kicking off my new whore year. As my Asian bestfriend and I stumbled out of the arena my night became a blur of shots, bad songs, and strobe lights. By the time the ball finally dropped I'd already been heavily drinking for more than eight hours and it was safe to say I'd surpassed down to fuck and entered can't stand up to fuck.



Somewhere in the chaos of this night I laid my sights on the cutest, small town Illinois, boy next door I have ever had the pleasure of corrupting. Mike was everything my mom has always wanted me to bring home, while I was everything his small town probably warned him about when they made dancing illegal. In my tequila haze I decided his actual name was fucking stupid and re-named him Matt, why I'll never give a shit.

At what must of been four in the morning, I realized in the bump and grind of my drunken attempts at dancing, I'd lost my Asian. Few things can I warn against like never going to a family dinner sober and never losing your Asian. Leaving the club, I drug "Matt" along on the widest Asian search since The Great Panda Adventure, instead of finding my Asian we stumbled into a backseat. My backseat. Which was good because I was rocking a very uncool mom-SUV that had just enough room for some decent sex, I know this because I've HAD decent sex in that car, this was not going to be that time.


You almost have to feel bad for guys with tiny dicks, they didn't ask for a three inch cock anymore than a woman would want to unwrap a three inch dick and pretend to be turned on. Well past drunk and willing to see if the size of the boat matter more than the motion of the ocean, I decided to take one for the team and go for the tiny gold. I don't think I've ever faked an orgasm drunk, but I should of won a god damn Oscar for that performance. Fuck Sophie's Choice, Emmerson's choice was deciding to give the small town boy the thrill he'd never have; the faint hope he ever pleased a woman.

I didn't ask for his number or give him my real name. I can only hope he Facebook stalked me & when he came up with nothing fondly jacked off to the memory of my amazing actress of a vagina.

Keep your Emotions Away From My Vagina

and yet another amazing blog I have found that I had to share...http://the-momfia.blogspot.com




The best part about FWB(friends with benefits) is that it is all benefit and not much friend, which is fine by me because the last thing I need is having to pretend to give a damn about someone else's problems. In the beginning its a big race to not only orgasm and get the fuck out, but prove who isn't going to be the one to get emotionally attached. Among orgasm's and late night hookups is an underlying competition: who's going to want more than just sex first?



Our culture typically depicts women as the emotional, needy, "I want more than just sex" types. While that's very often a valid case, it isn't always the situation. Men like to play aloof, but very often they find themselves caring about their FWD beyond a quick fuck. Feelings are complicated little bastards, unfortunately. What begins with calling your FWB over for an easy way to bang out your emotions with your personal life, ends with cuddling and someone staying over all night. Once breakfast starts getting made, someone starts sharing details, and before you know it you've found yourself in the worst hell possible; a label-less relationship.

The idea of FWB is an awesome one, endless blowjobs to the first guy who talked his best female friend into fucking without commitment. He's an innovator to relationships and fucking around the world(I say we dedicate Steak & a Blowjob day to him). However we have to be willing to improve upon his original idea(if we hadn't improved upon the phone we'd still not have sexting, NO THANKS Mr. G-Bell) of friends being perfect fucks and expand. We now have reach to the internet, which means MILLIONS of anonymous horny people we don't have to pretend to even be friends with(let alone give a shit about)!




Problems come up when even if an emotional attachment is SOMEHOW magically unavoidable by all parties, when do things stop? What if one person starts seriously dating someone else, but the other hasn't? Then it's no longer "Friends with Benefits" and just becomes "I used to sleep with my friend Corey who still sexts me when he's drunk and my new boyfriend isn't really fucking happy about that". That's the problem with Friends with Benefits, when the benefits stop, what happens to the friends? Someone is always the "left over party" or the "one who got attached". It's nearly impossible to recover a friendship once you've been on top of someone, then every time there after you so much as attempt at hanging out without letting it all hang out you end up with enough sexual frustration to rival my mother.

Sex is fun. Sex [can be] good. Sex with a friend rarely works beyond three months and ends a friendship that may have lasted years. My advice? Fuck perfect strangers, don't ask questions, and don't talk about your problems. Need someone to talk to? Call your fucking friends who aren't responsible for making you orgasm. Don't have any friends? First ask yourself why you're such an asshole that no one wants to be your friend, then join Facebook and complain.

Always remember: Keep your emotions away from your vagina and out of your friendships.

iPhone Commercial That Didn't Make the Cut

See all the CollegeHumor Original Videos here.

The 3 people that can ruin Thanksgiving

I have a new favorite blogger so I'm reposting his stuff cause it's that awesome. If you want to see more of his stuff:
http://jwundersworld.blogspot.com



Thanksgiving…a time when families get together and everyone enjoys each others company. If only it were that easy, right? Wrong.

Call me mother fucking crazy, but as we get older, it seems that more and more adults dread Thanksgiving like we do with any other family holiday function. And it's not because we hate the holiday's, but because we get soooooo goddamn annoyed with some family members. For example:

The Bitch Ass In-law:
Getting together this Thanksgiving got you fucking excited. Well, until you found out your goddamn brother and his bitch ass wife were gonna be there. You know…the fucking cunt that thinks she “runs shit” and has went through more life experiences then a homeless man that once was rich and pissed it down the shitter because 8 grams rocks and hookers became his hobby.

They never shut the fuck up and talk to you like you’re listening. She thinks she’s "Mom of the Year" but seems to let her kid run around in a diaper that looks like it has about a weeks worth of shit in it. Yeah, you know who I’m talking about. That bitch. I would say something about the annoying ass brother in-law too, but all that mother fucker does is get fucking drunk, say some "awkward moment" shit and get bitched at by your sister. Moving on…

The Loser Uncle:
We all got problems. But this mother fucker got some goddamn problems. More than likely, he’s at Aunt Ethel’s house on a warrant that no one knows about. Drugs: he’s on them and he has them. Weapons: a shank is duct taped to his leg and he has a stolen gun in the car…which he stole too. He doesn’t say much about what’s new in his life other than, “Things are good. Just looking for a job and trying to stay out of trouble. Where’s your bathroom…I gotta blow my nose.” Keep your kids away from this crazy sack of shit...there’s a 79% chance they’ll be drunk or high if they get the chance to be around him.

The Annoying Neighbor:
This is the loneliest mother fucker on the block. Parents probably died some years ago. Relatives all hate him because he fucked his 1st cousin and they ended up having twins. Basically, this poor bastard has been black listed from his whole goddamn family. Lucky for you, grandpa invited his ass over because “No one should be alone on Thanksgiving”. Thank gramps...you mother fucking asshole.

If you’ve never felt awkward in a social setting, your ass does now. The annoying neighbor doesn’t shut the fuck up. EVER. They talk more then everyone in the house combined. Ever given an autobiography on your life? Well, have no fear, because this mother fucker is about to ask you in a very creep-dog way, all the details of your human existence. And just to add a little more fuel to that fire, they will tell you how fucked up their life is and probably ask you out on a date. Weird? What the fuck do you think jack ass? Fuck yeah that’s weird.


Honestly, there is a laundry list of the shit you'll encounter with your family every Thanksgiving. This is just the most common problem that roughly 82.6739% of us will encounter this Turkey Day.

So how do we deal with such shenanigan’s and horse shit? Simple. Do the one and only thing that will get your ass through the torture.

DRINK.

Bottom line: booze makes everything better. And tolerable. It also gives you the balls to tell a mother fucker that they got problems and they need to shut their goddamn mouth because a mother fucker is about to get bitch slapped in the goddamn face. Sorry, that was harsh. Actually, no it wasn't.

Drink because you can. Drink because you will realize that your life isn't as fucked up as these three. Drink because booze is fucking delicious and it will make the time fly by. Just don't drink too much and cause a scene. You do that, your ass might be on this list.

Happy fucking Holiday's!

Blonde Moments

Back to Halloween night we walked past this guy who was dressed like a scrabble board and he had a hat on that said WWF. My blonde girlfriend turns and asks me what he is supposed to be. In all of my own blonde wisdom I replied, Well his hat said WWF, I think that stands for World Wrestling Federation or something. Maybe it's one of the wrestling characters from that. We were about 2 blocks away before I turned around and started shouting Words With Friends!!! Words With Friends!!! Words With Friends!!! So anyways, speaking of being a complete idiot, I saw this picture and thought, this is so how I'm going to look on the autopsy table. Then I had to google whether your bones actually stay in the position of how you died. If your real quiet you can actually hear me getting dumber by the minute.

Where You Should Post Ur Status....

You's a Drrryyy Snitch

So this weekend I was visiting my girlfriend in San Francisco for Halloween. We wanted to get our dance on so we decided to hit up the Castro District aka The most FABULOUS gay area evahhh. Anyways what had happened was....we had gone out for coffee that morning and there's really no way to sugarcoat this....coffee was our gateway drink to cocktails. It's really simple math, our coffee got cold which reminded us that cocktails were cold and 12 hours later we find ourselves dressed in our Halloween finest dancing in a club full of sweaty guys who could give a shit about us. Perfect!



So there we are watching a male go go dancer in an assless Robin costume dance on top of a bar and my girlfriend and I are in full dance pants mode to my favorite Britney Spears jam when this black guy in a trench coat, do-rag and a Louis Vuitton handbag stuffed inside of a Victoria's Secret shopping bag comes up with his head moving side to side like a cobra pointing at us and says "You's a drrryyy snitch". We didn't even know what to get hung up on, the fact that he said You's or wtf a dry snitch was? We literally had to stop dancing to Urban Dictionary* that shit. Came the fuck up as you'd expect.

*dry snitching:
To indirectly tell secrets or offenses to a person of authority or any person meant to be kept away from a secret or offense, sometimes inadvertently.
If the telling of secrets or offenses is purposeful, minute details are usually left out as not to appear to be directly telling.
It is indirectly snitching.

Black guy in a trench coat? Unexpected. You should have seen my girlfriend and I standing there trying to take it all in. Token black guy....gay black guy.....token gay black guy in a trench coat??....and IF we are in fact a dry snitch then is there also a wet snitch? Deep thoughts for the inebriated.

This guy had set his bag on top of the controller for the lights to the entire club. Out of his purse (not a satchel, not a murse, his fucking purse) he pulls out a hand full of receipts, a full bottle of Merlot and one single blue latex glove. When he went to lift his bag he hit a switch and turned on all of the lights to the club at 11:52pm. Everyone stopped dancing and looked around trying to figure out why the lights were on so early. An employee finally came over and figured out the problem. Apparently Lil Miss....ter Trench Coat blamed us for telling through osmosis since we happened to be standing next to him the whole time. Little did he know that we had left for coffee that morning and 19 margarita's later we ended up there and when he turned on the lights we stopped drinking our vodka based hydration long enough to debate time travel. IF our drinks were still full AND our watch said midnight...BUT the lights were on....what was right? was this the weekend for time change? did we have to go home? would there be time to finish our drinks? WHAT WAS HAPPENING??? Pure panic and confusion on our part.I kid you not, the expressions on our faces were like we were trying to solve linear equations. Her and I were staring into a hot tub time machine (aka vodka cranberry) trying to make sense of it all, we had no time to "dry snitch".

Unrelated but equally confusing to us was trying to decipher between real cops and fake cops. Basically what we concluded was if they appeared to be in shape then they were definitely gay. Just cause your drunk doesn't mean your not right.