Performance anxiety, whether at school on stage or especially in the bedroom, is something that plagues most of us. Most of us won’t admit it but it does. Being the over-achieving, high-functioning, consistently perfect, step-ford wives in training (a.k.a Republicans) and save the world one picket at a time or (more likely) arm-chair activists (a.k.a bleeding heart liberals) that we are, it would go against our perfect smith college woman ideal that we are nurtured to be, to admit any kind of insecurity (how dare you call me weak, it’s because I’m a woman isn’t it?), anxiety or slight defect of character (Lo and behold somebody finds out I am not superhuman). All that talk about being perfect in our imperfections is for other people, other people who are actually incapable of being flawless (those lesser beings), we on the other hand can dream the impossible dream and attain it, mind you. Why? Because we’re Smith College women that’s how we roll. There is nothing we can’t do so performance anxiety is not something we can understand.
A conversation we (by we, I mean those pseudonymed people - whose real identities you’re not sure of but have been trying to figure out - whom I write about in every blog) had ,sometime last week – I think it was last week I’m not really sure [ Let’s just say we had a conversation sometime, somewhere and there were people involved because my concept of time and date has completely left the building, like God after midnight at Washburn] – revolved around that little blue helper we like to call Viagra. Ew, you protest, Viagra is for old people; and by old people I mean your parents and grandparents...thank me for that image later.=) Why would perfectly virile, young and gorgeous (don’t hate the playa hate the genes =) women be talking about Viagra? Well a) we’re unpredictable like that, just when you think you know us…we pull a Kansas city shuffle on you b) Dr. Hannibal Lecter joined the midnight circle and knowing her sexually deviant ways I guess you shouldn’t be too surprised and c) Because none of us had ever tried it and we being the inquisitive and intelligent minds that we are (we have a thirst for knowledge no matter how insignificant that knowledge may be to us at this age) , we wanted to know how it would affect us. (We’d make great lab rats by the way).
The player’s in that particular conversation were oddly vulgar (one of our blog virgins, I feel so honored that she chose us to pop her cherry), Dr. Hannibal Lecter (who I mentioned earlier walked in while we were having a perfectly normal conversation and had to turn it into some sick, twisted sexual excursion), Trippin’ on some shit (who is always up to try any pill, powder or liquid that might slightly alter her state of mind or body…she lives the life of a rockstar but without the guitar), If you seek Amy (who had migrated to the other room in hopes of getting away from the gaggle of geese sitting next to her because for some unknown reason she seems to think that homework is far more important than wasting time doing nothing…I feel like I don’t even know her anymore) and your ever gracious voyeur into the world of washburn crazy, Self-proclaimed Legend.
Oddly Vulgar: I am having performance anxiety about being on this blog. (Somebody should mention to her that we do not mention such things in public)
Dr. Hannibal Lecter: There’s a cure for that…VIAGRA. (Why? Why did you have to make me think about old people sex!! God damit I’m going to need to wash my extremely visual mind out with acid now.)
Trippin’ on some shit: What happens if you’re a woman and you take Viagra? (The inquiring minds begin engaging. Lock, load and shoot. BTW that pun was completely intended, well-thought out and beautifully placed. Sometimes my genius scares me!)
If you seek Amy: It makes your clitoris really large. (Nobody heard what she said because she was sitting a little too far away from us. Lesson to the wise: You can try and avoid the crazy, but the crazy will suck you in.)
Self-proclaimed Legend: You probably get really horny. I’d do that. (Ofcourse I would…have you met me and my sexual frustration?)
Dr. Hannibal Lecter: Aren’t you guys already horny? (Do we really talk about it that much? This is bordering on desperation!)
Self-proclaimed Legend: Well I’d wait until I get a man, then take it, get really horny and it would last like five hours. (Tantric sex here I come…budumcha)
Oddly Vulgar: I heard that it makes you really weirdly tingly down there. (Like the responsible one among us who doesn’t jump on every pill just to try it out she tried to warn us about the side effects)
Self-proclaimed Legend: I’m all for that shit. It’s like a vibrator. (What an astute observation…viagra is exactly like a vibrator???? )
Oddly vulgar: No it’s a weird tingle. (Quite frankly as long as there is some action done there, weird or not, I’m all for it. My vagina is not happy with me at the moment!!)
Self-proclaimed Legend: Wait a minute what did you say happens If you seek Amy? (I told you, you can’t run away from the crazy…no matter how hard you try it will hunt you down.)
If you seek Amy: I said it makes your clitoris really large.
Self-proclaimed Legend: What happens when your clitoris gets large? Does it mean bigger penis’s can fit in it. (ooh la la, somebody find me a large black man =)
Trippin’ on some shit: It means that if you touch it would feel like this….(Insert: orgasm face).
Dr. Hannibal Lecter: It’s an erectile. It has erectile tissue in it so it would get aroused. (Side note: She’s calling vaginal tissue “it”, too many of us have become influenced by the drug tank podcast.)
Trippin' on some shit: You’ll have a vagoner.
Hilarity ensues. We can always rely on Trippin’ on some shit to pull out a trump card one-liner.
This conversation, like the Vagina Monologues, was all about female empowerment, but to be more specific vagina empowerment. If men can get a boner, we can get a vagoner! Didn’t I say there is nothing we can’t do? For those who do suffer from performance anxiety, especially in the bedroom (Again smithies this does not apply to you BUT we can sympathize), sneak into your grandparents medicine cabinet one day, steal a couple of little blue helpers (they probably won’t notice because old age makes you forget things, including how much sex you’ve had) and pop away. Not on your own of course that would make you something akin to an alcoholic (drinking/popping alone = the first signs of a problem) BUT with a loved one or a complete stranger (whatever rocks your boat. No judgment here…we understand) and have the time of your life. Locked, loaded and shooting all night long. If the effects are less than desired e.g. ending up in hospital with a vagoner that lasts longer than 4 hours or worse yet in a coma just know… I didn’t say shit! That would be my official statement and this blog cannot be used as evidence against me. If the effects are orgasmic then do tell, details are very important too, we have no boundaries and no understanding of the acronym TMI. Why don’t you try it you ask? Slow down crazy, slow down…I would never be that reckless with my life but I have no qualms being reckless with yours.
So goodnight, good luck and remember age restrictions aren’t there to protect us they are only there to stop us from having fun…don’t let the man stop you from having fun.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Crack is Whack!
A Smith One card is like an all access pass to a life of beyond your wildest dreams. A life where you have food, a place to sleep, where you can print (provided you have money on the card), where you can do laundry, access the vending machines, be a part of something greater than yourself. Didn't I tell you it was beyond your wildest dreams? As much as Smith College tries to claim that elitism does not exist on this campus (Hence the banning of Sororities, because some how they foster a culture of "I am better than you.") nothing says I am better than you more than a small plastic card that says you belong. And those that don't have one are not invited to the party (The most awesome fucking party in the world). Granted every Smith student has a one card but what happens when you lose it? Well according to Smith you are no longer a part of this community, you are rejected, you are no longer allowed to eat, sleep here(As in most cases one cannot access their dorms without one) or do anything that is necessary for survival. Basically you are condemned to being a skinny homeless person that nobody cares about UNTIL you pay $20 for a new one. 20 motherfucking, we are here to exploit your as much as we can, dollars. I remember the days, those good ol' days, when replacing a one card cost a mere $5 (enough to feed a family of five with a 99c burger each). And no it wasn't in the early 90's, it was 2006 where we ran through fields of flowers without a care in the world - except for student loans. Paying $20 dollars for a piece of plastic seems a little egregious, even if they do let you change your picture whenever you want (which is a pretty sweet deal for those of us who like prison escapee's when a camera flashes, I'm not talking about myself obviously =)
Last night what had happened was; If you seek Amy lost her one card in the crack of the Washburn porch. Change Washburn porch to your ass and you have a dirty joke, you can thank me later =). Pandemonium ensued, pandemonium of the H1N1 virus kind. But when a damsel is in distress who you gonna call? Washburn@midnight. Last night's player's were If you seek Amy (the damsel in distress), the self-proclaimed legend (who's job it was to document this moment of crisis, sometimes being a hero requires some sacrifice), Susie Jones Geology Major (a.k.a I can navigate any crack on a hard surface), Janet (If you don't get this reference by now, I don't know how can live with yourself), Trippin' on some shit (who was particularly strung out last night - from stress not heroine) and Snacktime (She's like a human human garbage disposal, not that she eats garbage...Smith food is far too gourmet to be referred to as garbage).
Our first response was to Call public safety (as in we are scared of mannequin with no arms and legs public safety)..and this is how the conversation went:
Public Safety: There's nothing we can do, you're just going to have to buy a new one. (For $20!!)
Click (that's the sound the phone makes when it disconnects =) What were we to do?
If you seek Amy: Fuck that shit. I’m getting that shit myself.
So the suggestions from brilliant minds (Brilliant Einstein like minds), came pouring out.
Janet: Get a trowel or a coat hanger
Self-proclaimed Legend: What’s a trowel? (As a non-American many things need to be explained to me, as I have no understanding of the silly words you people use. =)
Janet: It’s like a small spade.
As nobody thought that they would find themselves in this predicament - silly girls- nobody thought to pack a trowel when they were leaving for college. But not to fear, Janet's next brilliant idea came forth with lightning speed.
Janet: Somebody get me a coat hanger.
Susie Jones Geology Major: So you guys are performing illegal abortions again. (A reference to last night's blog)
Oh the wit, and ingenuity of Smith students. If our health insurance won't cover it anymore, we'll do this shit ourselves.
Susie Jones Geology Major: Get some lighter fluid. (Because a Smith one card is that important to us we are willing to burn down the house to get it back. Sorry washburnites, most of us would've have gotten out though)
Trippin' on some shit: Somebody get me some boots and I’ll kick it in.
Self-Proclaimed Legend: You can’t kick the new porch in. (This was before my magic finger's started tapping away at the computer, trying to capture this moment...which meant that this was the last time I spoke for the night. I told you being a hero has it's sacrifices.)
Janet: Do you wanna get sued for like 700 dollars? (Beat) oh, oh who has a flashlight. (The speed at which she spouts new ideas is beyond comprehension. She is like that annoying kid in class who always knew the answers.)
So If you seek Amy and Janet, torch in hand, run with a purpose that is often not existent in most of us when it comes to doing our school work and head to the porch. They return a few minute's later, with us having been waiting in bated breath.
If you seek Amy: I located it. (A flash light often has that effect in the dark).
Trippin on some shit: So did you get it back.
If you seek Amy: No I just know where it is.
Susie Jones Geology Major: How does that help?
If you seek Amy: Don’t sass me right now. (Oh If you seek Amy, sass is part of our charm)
If you seek Amy's eyes dart to a pair of Scissors lying on the floor. She quickly retreives them not caring eho they belong to.
If you Seek Amy: We’re going to get it out with some scissors.
Snacktime: Those are Narc's. (The voice of reason in last night's episode.)
If you Seek Amy: In that case they’re fair game. (When in crisis, no permission needed, everyone's shit is fair game. Fuck the Code of Honor)
Trippin' on some shit:Go fuck ‘em up then. (It is so evident how much she loves Narc).
If you seek Amy and Janet venture forth into the night once more. Mission Impossible is underway. They return some time later. If felt like forever for those of us who sat in the living room, afraid for their safety in the night. Considering that Homeless people have been found living in some of our basements, it would be no surprise if they encountered one under the porch...it's getting cold out after all.
If you seek Amy: What up bitch. (As she saunters in victoriously with the one card.)
All: How did you get it? (We obviously didn't do this in unison but rather in a frenzied shock fueled excitement)
If you seek Amy: We chop-sticked that bitch!
At which point Janet saunters, two hot rod's in hand. And no, you dirty little fucker's =), not some homeless Men's penis's (Even though it would've been nice, any penis would be nice at this point. We would just shower them up and take turns. Sharing is caring.)
If you seek Amy: I should call pub safety and tell them to suck on my dick. I ain’t paying 20 dollars for that shit.
Trippin' on some shit: No say that they can suck on your d…ICK! (The dramatic pause is for a better effect.)
Janet: I smell like a dude right now. It’s probably all that victory scent.
So the moral of this story is, Smith College should invest in chips that would be implanted into our skins so that no Smithie will have to face the devastation of losing their one card EVER again. It's just too much too handle. Many have died of heart failure because of this. And that when in crisis, once again, who you gonna call? Washburn@midnight. Last night proved that we truly can do anything we put our minds to including saving one cards from their doom, we are strong, intelligent women here to take over the world. Sister's are doing it for themselves. All for one and one for all. Even though most of us were just back seat driver's who couldn't be bothered enough to actually do anything besides offer pearls of wisdom (And they were pearls of wisdom mind you), the collective saved a damsel in distress, a damsel we call our friend, a damsel named, if you seek Amy.
So I say, good night, good luck and if you can help it don't lose your one card because your life will turn into a circus of fear, insanity and feelings of suicide.
Last night what had happened was; If you seek Amy lost her one card in the crack of the Washburn porch. Change Washburn porch to your ass and you have a dirty joke, you can thank me later =). Pandemonium ensued, pandemonium of the H1N1 virus kind. But when a damsel is in distress who you gonna call? Washburn@midnight. Last night's player's were If you seek Amy (the damsel in distress), the self-proclaimed legend (who's job it was to document this moment of crisis, sometimes being a hero requires some sacrifice), Susie Jones Geology Major (a.k.a I can navigate any crack on a hard surface), Janet (If you don't get this reference by now, I don't know how can live with yourself), Trippin' on some shit (who was particularly strung out last night - from stress not heroine) and Snacktime (She's like a human human garbage disposal, not that she eats garbage...Smith food is far too gourmet to be referred to as garbage).
Our first response was to Call public safety (as in we are scared of mannequin with no arms and legs public safety)..and this is how the conversation went:
Public Safety: There's nothing we can do, you're just going to have to buy a new one. (For $20!!)
Click (that's the sound the phone makes when it disconnects =) What were we to do?
If you seek Amy: Fuck that shit. I’m getting that shit myself.
So the suggestions from brilliant minds (Brilliant Einstein like minds), came pouring out.
Janet: Get a trowel or a coat hanger
Self-proclaimed Legend: What’s a trowel? (As a non-American many things need to be explained to me, as I have no understanding of the silly words you people use. =)
Janet: It’s like a small spade.
As nobody thought that they would find themselves in this predicament - silly girls- nobody thought to pack a trowel when they were leaving for college. But not to fear, Janet's next brilliant idea came forth with lightning speed.
Janet: Somebody get me a coat hanger.
Susie Jones Geology Major: So you guys are performing illegal abortions again. (A reference to last night's blog)
Oh the wit, and ingenuity of Smith students. If our health insurance won't cover it anymore, we'll do this shit ourselves.
Susie Jones Geology Major: Get some lighter fluid. (Because a Smith one card is that important to us we are willing to burn down the house to get it back. Sorry washburnites, most of us would've have gotten out though)
Trippin' on some shit: Somebody get me some boots and I’ll kick it in.
Self-Proclaimed Legend: You can’t kick the new porch in. (This was before my magic finger's started tapping away at the computer, trying to capture this moment...which meant that this was the last time I spoke for the night. I told you being a hero has it's sacrifices.)
Janet: Do you wanna get sued for like 700 dollars? (Beat) oh, oh who has a flashlight. (The speed at which she spouts new ideas is beyond comprehension. She is like that annoying kid in class who always knew the answers.)
So If you seek Amy and Janet, torch in hand, run with a purpose that is often not existent in most of us when it comes to doing our school work and head to the porch. They return a few minute's later, with us having been waiting in bated breath.
If you seek Amy: I located it. (A flash light often has that effect in the dark).
Trippin on some shit: So did you get it back.
If you seek Amy: No I just know where it is.
Susie Jones Geology Major: How does that help?
If you seek Amy: Don’t sass me right now. (Oh If you seek Amy, sass is part of our charm)
If you seek Amy's eyes dart to a pair of Scissors lying on the floor. She quickly retreives them not caring eho they belong to.
If you Seek Amy: We’re going to get it out with some scissors.
Snacktime: Those are Narc's. (The voice of reason in last night's episode.)
If you Seek Amy: In that case they’re fair game. (When in crisis, no permission needed, everyone's shit is fair game. Fuck the Code of Honor)
Trippin' on some shit:Go fuck ‘em up then. (It is so evident how much she loves Narc).
If you seek Amy and Janet venture forth into the night once more. Mission Impossible is underway. They return some time later. If felt like forever for those of us who sat in the living room, afraid for their safety in the night. Considering that Homeless people have been found living in some of our basements, it would be no surprise if they encountered one under the porch...it's getting cold out after all.
If you seek Amy: What up bitch. (As she saunters in victoriously with the one card.)
All: How did you get it? (We obviously didn't do this in unison but rather in a frenzied shock fueled excitement)
If you seek Amy: We chop-sticked that bitch!
At which point Janet saunters, two hot rod's in hand. And no, you dirty little fucker's =), not some homeless Men's penis's (Even though it would've been nice, any penis would be nice at this point. We would just shower them up and take turns. Sharing is caring.)
If you seek Amy: I should call pub safety and tell them to suck on my dick. I ain’t paying 20 dollars for that shit.
Trippin' on some shit: No say that they can suck on your d…ICK! (The dramatic pause is for a better effect.)
Janet: I smell like a dude right now. It’s probably all that victory scent.
So the moral of this story is, Smith College should invest in chips that would be implanted into our skins so that no Smithie will have to face the devastation of losing their one card EVER again. It's just too much too handle. Many have died of heart failure because of this. And that when in crisis, once again, who you gonna call? Washburn@midnight. Last night proved that we truly can do anything we put our minds to including saving one cards from their doom, we are strong, intelligent women here to take over the world. Sister's are doing it for themselves. All for one and one for all. Even though most of us were just back seat driver's who couldn't be bothered enough to actually do anything besides offer pearls of wisdom (And they were pearls of wisdom mind you), the collective saved a damsel in distress, a damsel we call our friend, a damsel named, if you seek Amy.
So I say, good night, good luck and if you can help it don't lose your one card because your life will turn into a circus of fear, insanity and feelings of suicide.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Get it Pregnant!
Before I divulge into last night's titillating and completely inappropriate conversation (so laugh in the privacy of your own room, preferably under your bed quietly where no-one can chastise you for being an insensitive douche, especially men because believe it or not double standards do exist so feel the burn, 'cause the tables have turned (",)) about babies the above tile needs a little explanation.
A wise man once said "Just so you know girl, I love you and I wanna get that shit pregnant. I got feelings and shit." His belief was that once you get "it" pregnant, as a man you've got that shit locked down. Now this is all kinds of inappropriate yet when listening to this drug tank podcast (this and youtube video's, mainly about cats and sassy gay friends, dominate our study breaks), I couldn't help but fall out of my chair with tears streaming down and snorting like a pig (a certain "babe" declined to have his name attached to this post as a significant cultural reference) in heat. Pretty much anyone with a perverse sense of humor (my kind of people), would and did find this "pee in my pants" funny. We can laugh because we make the assumption that no man is actually dumb enough to say this and actually mean it, either as a pick up line or even if he is in a committed relationship. If he did, he would walk away without his balls, for many obvious reasons, the main one being that referring to my uterus as "that shit" is a punishable offense. Punishable by castration. Am I being hypocritical? Maybe, if you want to be harsh. Double-Standards much? Possibly. Do I care? Not really.
So moving swiftly away from this verbal diarrhea of a pre-lude, last night's conversation was all about those cute little humans we like to call, babies. Those cute, cuddly little beings, that you want to squeeze so tight (and suffocate) sometimes. Last night's player's were Susie Jones Geology major (If you don't address her by her full title, she won't respond. It's tantamount to not addressing the queen as your "highness"), Trippin' on some shit (high times at Smith College), your gracious host the self-proclaimed legend (I decided to proclaim myself a legend since I was too impatient to wait for someone else to do it) and Janet (of the horny variety).It started out innocently enough, babies are obviously a hot-topic in all this all women's institution because the only thing that matter's to us women (a.k.a the home executive's) is hitching our wagon to a hot piece of ass (a.k.a the provider's) and raising little bambino's of our own.
So it turns out that Janet doesn't really like children, they are tantamount to panda's and dolphins to her (and if you have heard her rants about panda's and dolphins you would know there is no love lost between them). Shock and horror reverberated through out our entire collective beings. How dare she have a mind of her own? How dare SHE??? So this is how the rest of the converstaion went...
Trippin on some shit: I'm not getting pregnant anytime soon since I'm not getting laid. (Notice how all our conversations have to digress to sex somehow. Sexual frustration is a bitch!)
Self-proclaimed Legend: Don't you dare become pregnant! (Even though I am a huge advocate for women playing their gender assigned roles in life, I do not endorse teenage pregnancy on the other hand I teenage drinking is completely acceptable in my opinion as long as you use birth-control.)
Trippin on some shit: Don't worry, if I get pregnant now I am going belly first down the stairs until it aborts. And just to be sure I'll smoke tons of cigarette's and do a shit load of drugs until it flushes out my system.
Susie Jones Geology Major: No then you'll just have a crack baby.
Trippin on some shit: Well no-one looks behind the hubbard dumpster's. (Note: This line should really be credited to snacktime, formerly the russian, who was not present to re-iterate this point once more).
Yes this is highly inappropriate, insensitive and bordering on offensive (depending on which side your humor crumbles). Yet, fucking hilarious. Not hilarious because any of us think that aborting babies is like a going on an adventure ride, nor that we think purposely giving birth to substance-addicted babies is just an occupational hazzard and especially not because we think dumping babies in dumpster's is like playing basketball. It is hilarious for the same reason that, "Just so you know girl I love you and I wanna get that shit pregnant. I got feelings and shit." is hilarious because we are never really going to do it. Well I can only speak for me and my friends. It certainly isn't humorous when it actually happens. But the point of this blog is not to push forward our social and morally-conscious agenda's (because that happens far too much in our classrooms) even though we do have them but this post is purely for fun. So if you're offended, I apologize but get a sense of humor. If you laughed secretly under your bed, you did the smart, self-preserving thing. And if you LOL'd and sent this to as many friends as possible, I personally thank you for getting me more readers. You're closer to reaching legendary status. =)
So until next time good night, good luck and remember that birth control is your friend not your enemy.
A wise man once said "Just so you know girl, I love you and I wanna get that shit pregnant. I got feelings and shit." His belief was that once you get "it" pregnant, as a man you've got that shit locked down. Now this is all kinds of inappropriate yet when listening to this drug tank podcast (this and youtube video's, mainly about cats and sassy gay friends, dominate our study breaks), I couldn't help but fall out of my chair with tears streaming down and snorting like a pig (a certain "babe" declined to have his name attached to this post as a significant cultural reference) in heat. Pretty much anyone with a perverse sense of humor (my kind of people), would and did find this "pee in my pants" funny. We can laugh because we make the assumption that no man is actually dumb enough to say this and actually mean it, either as a pick up line or even if he is in a committed relationship. If he did, he would walk away without his balls, for many obvious reasons, the main one being that referring to my uterus as "that shit" is a punishable offense. Punishable by castration. Am I being hypocritical? Maybe, if you want to be harsh. Double-Standards much? Possibly. Do I care? Not really.
So moving swiftly away from this verbal diarrhea of a pre-lude, last night's conversation was all about those cute little humans we like to call, babies. Those cute, cuddly little beings, that you want to squeeze so tight (and suffocate) sometimes. Last night's player's were Susie Jones Geology major (If you don't address her by her full title, she won't respond. It's tantamount to not addressing the queen as your "highness"), Trippin' on some shit (high times at Smith College), your gracious host the self-proclaimed legend (I decided to proclaim myself a legend since I was too impatient to wait for someone else to do it) and Janet (of the horny variety).It started out innocently enough, babies are obviously a hot-topic in all this all women's institution because the only thing that matter's to us women (a.k.a the home executive's) is hitching our wagon to a hot piece of ass (a.k.a the provider's) and raising little bambino's of our own.
So it turns out that Janet doesn't really like children, they are tantamount to panda's and dolphins to her (and if you have heard her rants about panda's and dolphins you would know there is no love lost between them). Shock and horror reverberated through out our entire collective beings. How dare she have a mind of her own? How dare SHE??? So this is how the rest of the converstaion went...
Self-proclaimed Legend: Don't you dare become pregnant! (Even though I am a huge advocate for women playing their gender assigned roles in life, I do not endorse teenage pregnancy on the other hand I teenage drinking is completely acceptable in my opinion as long as you use birth-control.)
Trippin on some shit: Don't worry, if I get pregnant now I am going belly first down the stairs until it aborts. And just to be sure I'll smoke tons of cigarette's and do a shit load of drugs until it flushes out my system.
Trippin on some shit: Well no-one looks behind the hubbard dumpster's. (Note: This line should really be credited to snacktime, formerly the russian, who was not present to re-iterate this point once more).
Yes this is highly inappropriate, insensitive and bordering on offensive (depending on which side your humor crumbles). Yet, fucking hilarious. Not hilarious because any of us think that aborting babies is like a going on an adventure ride, nor that we think purposely giving birth to substance-addicted babies is just an occupational hazzard and especially not because we think dumping babies in dumpster's is like playing basketball. It is hilarious for the same reason that, "Just so you know girl I love you and I wanna get that shit pregnant. I got feelings and shit." is hilarious because we are never really going to do it. Well I can only speak for me and my friends. It certainly isn't humorous when it actually happens. But the point of this blog is not to push forward our social and morally-conscious agenda's (because that happens far too much in our classrooms) even though we do have them but this post is purely for fun. So if you're offended, I apologize but get a sense of humor. If you laughed secretly under your bed, you did the smart, self-preserving thing. And if you LOL'd and sent this to as many friends as possible, I personally thank you for getting me more readers. You're closer to reaching legendary status. =)
So until next time good night, good luck and remember that birth control is your friend not your enemy.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
The Orgy Cometh!
For straight women the greatest chastity belt in the world is an all woman's college. For those of us who like the penis it is a hot-bed of sexual frustration. For those of us who like women it's a dirty free for all. Lucky bitches. Halloween weekend became the perfect example of this unfortunate disparity. I decline to mention names or the actual situation because a) I am jealous and b) there is a narc running around who might use this ammo, but let's just say an orgy of "immorality" took place and some us couldn't join the party because unfortunately there was no penis involved. Fuck our lives, actually Fuck us...no really somebody, anybody, please. This is what it has come down to...begging, the next step is walking around with signs reading "Free, no strings attached vagina...come and get it". So as we let the the events of Saturday night ruminate through our minds, it became less of a "Holy shit I can't believe that happened" and turned into "Holy shit I need to get laid."
First let me introduce the players in last nights conversation..."If you seek Amy" (Hint: Say it really fast), The self-proclaimed legend (me), The Russian (She likes vodka) and Janet (as in "tttttouch me, I wanna feel dirty" Janet). The Russian was sitting on the phone, trying to pistol whip some sense into an 18 year old who is "in love" with a 35 year old, who has two kids with two different baby mama's. Since this can't be considered pedophilia (even though it should be), we can just call it plain creepy. If you seek Amy was heading off to bed while Janet and the self-proclaimed legend were doing the only thing that comes close to a cold shower...work.
The conversation went as follows...
If you seek Amy: I love you guys.
Self-proclaimed Legend: Ah I love you too IYSA. Let's make out this weekend. (Cause I'm running out of options)
If you seek Amy: Absolutely, let's make it an orgy. (It's starting to seem like orgies are the only way to get some around here.)
Self-proclaimed Legend: We'll totally bring Janet and The Russian into the equation. (The equation should really be vagina + penis = perfect equation but unfortunately as mentioned earlier woman's college = major constraint.)
If you seek Amy: I'll bring my really huge dildo for you.
Janet: I'll bring the vegetable Oil.
Hilarity, of the pee in my pants variety, ensued. Sometimes staying up until all hours of the morning is worth it, because people's best moments happen when they are under-slept, sex-deprived and tripping on sassy. It certainly doesn't come close to having a sassy gay friend but we work with what we have. =)
Good night, good luck and let's hope we all get laid sometime soon. Even if it is just between friends.
First let me introduce the players in last nights conversation..."If you seek Amy" (Hint: Say it really fast), The self-proclaimed legend (me), The Russian (She likes vodka) and Janet (as in "tttttouch me, I wanna feel dirty" Janet). The Russian was sitting on the phone, trying to pistol whip some sense into an 18 year old who is "in love" with a 35 year old, who has two kids with two different baby mama's. Since this can't be considered pedophilia (even though it should be), we can just call it plain creepy. If you seek Amy was heading off to bed while Janet and the self-proclaimed legend were doing the only thing that comes close to a cold shower...work.
The conversation went as follows...
If you seek Amy: I love you guys.
Self-proclaimed Legend: Ah I love you too IYSA. Let's make out this weekend. (Cause I'm running out of options)
Self-proclaimed Legend: We'll totally bring Janet and The Russian into the equation. (The equation should really be vagina + penis = perfect equation but unfortunately as mentioned earlier woman's college = major constraint.)
If you seek Amy: I'll bring my really huge dildo for you.
Janet: I'll bring the vegetable Oil.
Hilarity, of the pee in my pants variety, ensued. Sometimes staying up until all hours of the morning is worth it, because people's best moments happen when they are under-slept, sex-deprived and tripping on sassy. It certainly doesn't come close to having a sassy gay friend but we work with what we have. =)
Good night, good luck and let's hope we all get laid sometime soon. Even if it is just between friends.
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