Karma and I have a love/hate relationship. Lately, though, I’ve only been feeling the hate part.

Last monday I took a friend out to a local bar for her 21st birthday… and the scene was hurTING. There were maybe 50 people spread throughout the two levels. No one was dancing and the majority of the attractive males were upstairs playing pool.

Determined to show my girl a good time though, I was relentless in keeping her drinks coming. Another girl that was with us was a much bigger girl; long blonde hair and a mouth that would make George Carlin blush. She was also determined to have a good time, talking to anything with a penis that was in the general vicinity.

We spent a lot of time on the dance floor, but I eventually got bored, grabbed the birthday girl and headed up to the bar to get another drink and a smoke. We walked by big blonde, now fawning over a very tall, built and HOT guy standing off to the side, and they followed us to the bar.

The guy had a lighter and a round of jack and coke’s for us before we could even get our cigs out of the box. He introduced himself, asked me a few questions about the birthday celebration and then I noticed that big blonde was now freaking with some guy on the other side of the bar. I looked up at the guy that she had been talking to.

“She was hardcore hitting on you a second ago, and now she ditched you to go freak that guy over there? That really sucks”

“Well, I really don’t give a fuck. I was talking to her because I knew she’d lead me over here to talk to you.”

Gulp. That was smooth. And surprisingly unexpected. Two points.

But maybe 15 minutes later, the lights come up and we are told to get out. I looked to go find the group and head out but he grabbed my hand.

“What are you doing now?”
“Well, they are all going to wake up some of their friends in the Courtyards. I am going home.”

Yeah, yeah, shut up. He came home with me.

So we end up sitting outside on my deck smoking and drinking leftover sangria from our Labor Day BarBQ from that Saturday. He’s funny. Intelligent. Air Force. Engineer. Southern Gentleman. I am seriously getting frustrated because I can’t seem to find any flaws with this guy.

And then he gives me a chance. He asks,

“So, what do you do for a living?”
“Promise not to laugh? I’m a specialist for a dating service.”
“No way! So you get to match people up?”
“I actually just get to know people. I’m a first round interviewer. We have a lot of requirements for people to join our service.”
“Do you use those in your own love life?”
“What- the service?”
“No, no, the requirements.”
“You know, that isn’t a bad idea.”
“Go ahead. Screen me.”

Ahem. So I deny every sexually charged cell in my body and refrain from making some smart-ass comment and tackling him right then and there and explain,

“Well, I usually just start off asking them about their jobs. It relaxes them and makes them feel more comfortable sharing things with me. After I loosen them up a bit, I go in for the dirt on their past relationships.”

Then it happened. He went into a long monologue about how he was fat and a nerd in high school, but that he lost weight and got in shape by joining a cheerleading camp for the college that he got accepted to. During one of the practices early in the semester, the football coach asked him if he had ever considered playing football (he’s 6’6″). So he jogged over from the sideline to the field and ended up being their starting tight end. So now Mister jock man who knows all the cheerleaders joins the most popular frat on campus and becomes hot shit.

I almost got really intimidated and turned off because he was sounding like a cocky ass. But then he just had to go and call himself out, saying that he got too full of himself too fast. He openly admitted that he couldn’t handle it and that he went crazy over all the attention.

“It wasn’t enough, though.”

He worked as a bouncer at a club in the off-season and decided that he should take a go at stripping. Six months later, he was listed as one of the city’s 50 sexiest men.

“But even that wasn’t enough.”
“How on earth can you top that??”
“How do you think?”

“Please don’t tell me that you’re a porn star.”

“Well, not exactly. You see, there are the actors. And there are acting scenes, foreplay scenes and then the action scenes. For some of the action scenes the actors have stunt doubles. Stunt cocks, really”

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?!?!
WHY DO THESE THINGS HAPPEN TO ME???

For once, I meet an attractive, intelligent, honest and thoughtful guy and no no, liz that’s just not gonna work out for you. We’ll just make him a STUNT COCK on the side.

And being the inquisitive little moron that I am, I decide to ask how many women he has slept with.

“Do you really want to know?”

Oh god.

“Over 30.”

I just had to ask…

“But because of the Air Force I get tested every month. And I only did a couple films and each time I was sterilized from top to bottom.”

Yes, I’m sure darling. Very responsible of you.

We spent the rest of the early morning cuddling somewhere between awake and asleep, and then he left when I did at 8am for work.

Ever since, we have been playing phone tag, but I don’t really know if I want to pursue anything. I’d like to think that I am comfortable with myself and my sexuality, but I don’t know if I could ever do anything intimate with him without thinking about his previous “work” experience.

All joking and cutesy little stories aside, I don’t know if I can handle this. Could you deal with dating someone in the “industry” or even someone with a previous sexual partners list over 30?

So much for being a relationship specialist.

ORIGINAL COMMENTS

My future husband:

The love of my life. The man who sees into my soul. The HOTT! piece of ass and pretty face that he is…

got arrested.

It’s true – MTV says so.

Continue reading →

here are some rules for you horny little fubarbs:

1. If you meet a person at a party/bar/social gathering with alcohol and hook up with said person within the next 24 hours, it was a hook up.

2. If you meet a person at a party/bar/social gathering with alcohol and you dig them in a iwanttodomorethanjusthookupwithyou sort of way, do NOT hook up with said person within the next 24 hours.

3. If you plan on hooking up with someone, don’t EVER expect it to be more than that.

4. If it IS more than that, you should inform the other party involved BEFORE you hook up.

5. If it BECOMES more than that after hookuping� either keep your mouth shut and just enjoy the play, or come clean to partner.

6. Parties involved in random hook ups are not to get jealous or possessive of said hook up partner.

7. If one party becomes jealous/possessive, walk away. quickly.

8. They are called RANDOM hook ups for a reason. When/if one or both parties want to stop the hookuping� that is the end of it. PERIOD.

9. If you think you are DATING and not just HOOKING UP, then you should be able to discuss this openly with other party involved.

10. If every time you hang out you hook up and/or only hang out in order to hook up� you are NOT dating. You are hookuping.

11. If you want more that just a hook up, don’t lie and say all you want to do is have fun.

12. If you are happy and comfortable with yourself and being single� stop obsessing and bitching about guys hitting on you.

13. If you cannot hook up with a person without becoming attached to said person� DO NOT FUCKING HOOK UP WITH THEM AND STOP BITCHING ABOUT WHEN PEOPLE PLAY YOU.

i was listening to a local radio show on my way to work today. and the discussion was about different “catholic” birth control methods that they teach in their schools. they focused on two:

The Withdrawal Method – also known as the “pull and pray,” i’m sure we have all heard of (if not used) this lovely way to prevent procreation. simply put, the male removes his penis from the female’s vagina before he pppppptthhhhhpppppps.

The Rhythm Method – now this is the one that gets confusing. and quite technical. depending on the natural cycle of the female, during the peak days of ovulation (approximately half way through the cycle from your last period), sexual intercourse should be avoided. to properly measure this you have to monitor your temperature and vaginal secretions.

now these methods do make some sense, and could lessen the odds of pregnancy… but one thing sticks out in my mind about the rhythm method.

according to this method, we should abstain from sex between 4 and 8 days surrounding our ovulating time. on top of that, most women avoid sex during the 5 to 10 days that they are menstruating. that could mean for some ladies EIGHTEEN days PER MONTH that they can’t boink. for you math majors, that’s over half of our existence.

but that isn’t where it stops.

i’m sure you are all familiar with this little phenomenon called PMS. this knocks another 3 or 4 days off of the chances of having sex. and if you combine that with the use of the withdrawal method, the time that you DO actually get to have sex… you don’t even get the enjoyment of feeling your partner finish inside of you.

so ladies. when you figure out what your 8-10 day window is… i hope you fuck enough to last you until the next safe period.

damn catholics.

thought this might generate some discussion.

and this article in repsonse might generate even more.

this is not a post. it’s just a lazy attempt at giving the people who can read something to type about.

they are manipulative, lying, cheating, self-centered little drama queens who just want everyone to pay attention to them. wait. let me re-phrase.

they manipulate boys, lie to girls, cheat their way through everything of substance, are so self-absorbed and aware that they can’t see what their manipulating, lying and cheating can do to the people in their lives, making them completely oblivious to how retarded their little soap opera of a life is because it is really obvious to everyone else that their entire production is put on just to make sure all guys everywhere pay attention to them and whether it be secretively or overtly want to suck their boobies and ram them them up the tookus.

and well, most boys are trained and encouraged to want to suck and fuck multiple dramamamas… even at the same time… making the competition between said mommies very, very thick.

click on more to read about my theory…

Continue reading →

now… i am not one to complain, ::snort:: but our little boobie boy here needs a little bit of a talking to. actually… i tried to give him one, but i guess he just forgot everything we discussed yesterday. so here ya go, bebe… in writing, and with all of your little fubarb witnesses to be like “see, biatch! you fucked up again!”

THE RULES, BIATCH!

1. Take Baby Steps
NEVER try to make big, permanent decisions when you are emotionally fucked. Take some time to breathe it in, de-crazify, and clear your head. “It’s only been THREE FUCKING DAYS.”

2. Avoid ALL Stalker Tendencies
Don’t check the email. Don’t check the IM. Don’t call 80 times an hour. Don’t leave lame voicemail messages. DON’T try to get her back. She needs to take baby steps too.

3. Modify Your Vocabulary
Phrases like:

I am stupid! we know this already. Move on.
I made a mistake! no you didn’t. things happen for a reason.
I’m sorry! for what, ass crack? Being yourself?
Are you sure you don’t want to go? Sigh…
I’ll never be like that again! suuuuuuure you won’t.
But I! but you what?
But still! STILL not buying it, fucktard!
But! NO MORE FUCKING BUTS (or butts for that matter)

are just not allowed anymore. deal.

4. Cut Back on the Self Deprecation
Don’t EVER apologize or make excuses for being who you are. We like who you are! YOU should like who you are. Including all your idiosyncrasies! and your page (even if it is on the boink boink boobie level of retarded). End of story. That’s it. NO FURTHER DISCUSSION NECESSARY.

Good luck. You should know by now that you’ve got a ton of little internet people pullin for you. 🙂

………

Picture yourself, if you will, in the upper level of one, KOHLS department store, at the top of the escalator… right between women’s lingerie and shoes. You just picked out a new pair of kicks and are intent on going down to the first floor to check out and leave. But something stops you. Out of the corner of your eye you see them.

The clearance panty bins.

40% off the lowest ticketed price.

What were you to do? How were you to proceed?

Normally, you would just walk over, sniff a few and then leave. But you can’t this time. Because your freaking FATHER is with you.

“Sure,” he says with a knowing glance, “go pick out a few.”

Oh. Ok then. I walked over and was expecting to see my dad head over to home furnishings (he has a thing for soap dispensers)… but to my surprise… he ran to my side, taking in the full view of the panty party.

Ok, that’s a lie. It wasn’t to my surprise. My dad and I like to make a scene.

So there we were, rummaging through the briefs, bikinis, thongs, g-strings and girdles. No wonder they are on clearance. All of them being truly gag-inducing. Example:

String bikini cuts made of shiny red polyester with silver lightning bolts. Blue cammo thong. Purple mother fucking polka dots (yes Justin, I did get those). Mammoth white briefs that you could wrap around your head four times and still have enough fabric to tie a not.

WHO (besides Jenn) buys this stuff?

………

“Ohhh, honey, how about these.”

Ummn, no. I do not feel uncomfortable taking under garment suggestions from my 64 year old man.

“No no, Dad. I’ve grown out of the fuchsia phase.” And with that, the ladies peering over a nearby bra display started to giggle and my face turned to match the pair of panties in my father’s hand.

… my face being a fierce shade of scarlet was apparently not enough for my father.

“I don’t understand why you women would wear anything at all if you are going to wear one of these (holds up neon tie-dyed thong)- they can’t be comfortable.”

“You get used to the perma-wedgie, feeling, Dad.”

“This one (previously mentioned cammo thong) looks like a sling shot.”

“… or something you could wear.”

SMACK!

Yeah. At 21 my father still slaps the back of my head when I shoot off at the mouth. And yeah. The nearby women shoppers giggled at that too.

………

What came next was, by far, the pinnacle of the experience, my father and I came together to compare our picks, and 6 out of the 7 pairs we had matched.

sigh…

Welcum to my world, fubarbs.