I haven't laughed this hard...well...EVER

Thursday, April 30th 2009

Fix Yourself, Girl!

When you strut down the ho stroll in your sexiest spandex biker shorts, do the other whores yell at you, "Bitch, your pussy is hongray"? Does this make you feel sad in the pants, because you don't want everyone to see your damn uterus from the outside? Well, then the Cuchini is just the product to fix your COCHINA ass.

That shit will set you back $15 for two pads. Once you have your Cuchini pads, just place it over your hungry-hungry-hippo-cooze and voila! No camel toe. You will go from looking like a biological female with organic vagina lips to looking like you've got an 8" dick tucked into your ass crack. Fatty crotch to tranny crotch in a matter of seconds!

The website is like the land of fuckery! It has a video featuring a song that will be the first dance at my wedding. It also has a celebrity c-toe gallery. Strangely enough, the celebrity gallery doesn't star the CAMEL TOE QUEEN herself....CoCo! That's because even the Cuchini knows it is no match for the camel toe of all camel toes! I'd like to see the Cuchini try to cover up CoCo's mammoth vag flappers of wonder. It's not going to happen! If you placed one of those weak ass Cuchini pads on her snatch, it would eat it up in two bites, burp and then scream, "NEXT!"

I mean, behold CoCo's camel toe. It is not the one.

Source VIA Buzzfeed

Let It Ride

I have been on the verge of freaking out since Sunday. Actually, I take that back. I have been freaking out since Sunday. I am a mess.

I need my mom. A hug. My friends. I just need to feel like I'm not alone. Like someone gives a shit. I know you guys do. I'm extra messy this week I guess.

When I get this way, I try to fill my days with work and my nights with friends.
Because I opted to watch The Informers with Yones on Monday night, I missed a new GG episode (and DWTS). Sasha DVRs all new episodes of GG, so she invited me over (though I basically invited myself during the day) to have taco salad and watch GG with her.
Sasha is a true friend. I mean, she just watched the episode the night before. I'm sure she had things she could be doing other than watching GG for the second time with me, but she did it and I'm really thankful. As I said to her, had I not hung out with her, I would have panic attacked myself to sleep.

The best nights are spent with friends. Eating, laughing at whatever ridiculous thing Paula Abdul has to say about an Idol, watching GG and marveling at how AWESOME it truly is....

Nothing special, but special to me.

Fuck.

I like how Yones put it:

Here's what I got from The Informers: Spoiled-ass rich trustafarian waste-oids from the early '80s who live a debased lifestyle in a consequence-free environment with emotionally absentee parents. Although, I like the inference at the end. All is not lost after all.

This movie was easily the most depressing movie I've ever seen. Even more depressing than Requiem and Trainspotting. Blah. It is a good one though. Brett Easton Ellis is amazing as always.

As a side note, Yones' roommate, Chip (not his actual name), just got back from Mexico City.
I truly risked my life to watch The Informers. Tomorrow, I might be dead from swine flu.

Black Panties

Lately, I've wanted to hear from bad S.
When I get this way, I try to think of some of the worst things bad S has done to me. To remind me why its better we are not friends, that we don't talk, that he ignores me and that I ignore him. So here it goes:

Admittedly, I was clingy with S, but it wasn't until after he cheated on me. I felt like I needed to be near him at all times so he wouldn't have an opportunity to cheat. He didn't like this, but didn't realize he was the reason for it. He pushed me away. A lot. We'd hang out for a day and the next day he'd freak out and tell me to go away. Then I'd call and it would go back to normal. I'd call. Never him.

One of the times we were apart for a couple of days, he had been helping a "friend" move. He never told me which one. He went to take a shower and asked me to bring him his phone and wallet that were still in the car. So I went.

I couldn't find either in the passenger's seat, so I looked around. Usually, they slip under the seats. I reached under the driver's seat and pulled out a pair of women's black lace underwear.

I froze. I wanted to cry, but I couldn't. I wanted to yell, but I had no more energy. I sat in the car for a long time. He came out to see what was going on. I was sitting in the driver's seat, the panties in the passenger's seat. There was nothing to say. There was nothing he was going to say to make me feel better.

I left.

He apologized up and down, swore that the panties had fallen out while he was helping her move. He wouldn't give me a name, but I already knew who it could have been. One of the two he'd cheated on me with. It didn't matter anyway.

Yet somehow SOMEHOW. I forgave him.

Again.

Grief

"Although we know that after such a loss the acute state of mourning will subside, we also know we shall remain inconsolable and will never find a substitute. No matter what may fill the gap, even if it be filled completely, it nevertheless remains something else. And actually this is how it should be. It is the only way of perpetuating that love which we do not want to relinquish." Sigmund Freud (1856 - 1939)

IPF

The Inman Park Festival was this weekend.
The last time I went I was with bad S.
It is not a good memory. The incident happened before I had this blog, so I'm going to post it here - to have. Just in case.

Bad S loves festivals like Inman Park and Dogwood and Summerfest. He liked them more when he was drinking. The first couple we went to, we had a good time, but it wasn't long before things changed.

The last time I was at IPF, it was a beautiful day. He and I held hands, walked around, visited all the booths. We walked by all the beverages and food. We had a little to drink. A little to eat. But a little was never enough for him.

An hour into the festival he got really grumpy and quiet. I didn't understand where it was coming from because I thought we were having a great time. But he started to get angry and anything I said didn't help the situation. He finally told me that he wanted to be by himself. He was going to stay at the Festival, but he wanted me to leave. We weren't just dating at this point. He was my boyfriend. My boyfriend had asked me to leave.

I can't tell you how awful that feels. Someone you love tells you they don't want you around. I walked away crying, my head down, not wanting anyone to see. I ran into Pookie and Cray-Z on my way out and they convinced me to stay. They were great that day. Like they always are. Cray-Z sat in the park with me, talking to me, trying to get me to relax and then I saw bad S again, accompanied by a group of girls, on the way out of the Festival. It was like someone had kicked me in the stomach. He'd not only asked me to leave. He was now with a bunch of girls and he'd already cheated on me. In fact, after the first time, I would never trust him again, so you can imagine what I felt when I saw him leaving the park, wasted, with a bunch of women.

Somehow...SOMEHOW... later that night he convinced me nothing happened. That he was sorry. We were together not much longer after that day.

I would say I keep learning the hard way that bad S just doesn't give a damn, but I didn't actually learn until years later. My dad always called me hard-headed. I never believed him.

I do now.

Weekend Update

Fridays after work all I want to do is go home and sleep. And I usually do, but this past Friday I definitely didn't. After work, I went up to Buckhead to return some things I'd bought over the past few weeks. I'm not sure why I did this, seeing as I hate traffic and Friday traffic in Atlanta is AWFUL in any direction, but everything got returned and I was home by 7. I was laying in bed confirming plans for the next two days when Cray-Z and Pookie call me to come over and eat dinner with them. OF COURSE!
Cray-Z and I had grilled porkchops and quinoa (new Pookie recipe). The quinoa was fantastic. I've only ever loved quinoa from one place - R. Thomas, but Pookie's was better! It's a good thing too, because even though I like R. Thomas, it freaks me out that I used to eat next door at Shipfeiffer until I spotted a HUGE rat. You know those things just go from place to place. Probably hiding out in R. Thomas! GROSS...so yeah. I probably won't be eating quinoa at R. Thomas anymore. We were drinking wine with dinner, but I must have been thirstier than both of them because I drank glass after glass like it was water. I was up a good two hours after they went up to bed at 10:30, drinking, facebooking, and eating ice cream. By myself. Awesome.
I ended up sleeping on their couch since I couldn't drive home. I woke up the next morning at 6:45ish when Pookie had to get up to go build a Habitat for Humanity house. I think I might have still been drunk.
Meh.