Wednesday, December 16, 2015

you used to call me on my flip phone.

I know a large majority of single people want to murder/suicide themselves during the holidays. I have my struggles with it too. Like how my mom always wants to get “couple” pictures next to the Christmas tree. I watch my married siblings pose with their wives. I smile while secretly wishing the Christmas tree would explode. Since I’m inherently single, or dating someone gross or without enough brain cells to function in public, I either pose with my dog, if he even loves me enough to allow this, or with a bottle of wine. This would be probably the 10th year of that. Nothing tragic at all about it. Seriously, I LIVE for this moment. These are tears of joy guys, FOR REAL!!

I’ve decided that instead of being bummed about being single and alone and unloved and barren during the holidays, I’m going to be fucking stoked on life and focus on the positive. Weeeeeeeee!!! Here’s why.

1. I don’t have to buy some stupid dick a present.

The last time I bought a dude a Christmas present I was super proud of myself. I did some subtle questioning and research and found the perfect gift. Seriously. It was guaranteed to get me all the oral for months. It was somewhat expensive but I didn’t care because I knew I nailed it. As dickhead opened his present, I sat there waiting for all the squeals and compliments and child-like joy. Instead, he opened it, surveyed it, made some comment that a dickhead would make like “Oh, this is cool” and that was it. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!? And then, when I opened the stupid knee high socks and slutty school girl ensemble he bought me and acted less than stoked about it, he pouted. LIKE A DICKHEAD. I’m sorry I didn’t jizz my pants over your Hot Topic purchases when I dropped two Benjamins on your super awesome present. NEVER AGAIN.

2. I don’t have to hang out with a dick’s rude/boring/batshit crazy family.

I’ve done the meet the family thing with exactly three dudes. My family hated all of them. So there’s that. In hindsight I completely agree and wish that my brothers had actually murdered them and buried them in the backyard like their instincts told them to do. Would’ve saved me a lot of wasted money on condoms, Plan B, booze and pills to help me forget I was in a god awful relationship. (Well let’s be real, the booze and pills would’ve happened anyway.) The dudes that have been blessed to hang out with my family had a great fucking time. We eat delicious foods. We drink until we blackout. We play beer pong outside until it rains and then just drag that shit inside. It’s a complete win. I haven’t had the same experience when I’m forced to hang out with a dickhead’s family. Generally they don’t get it. They don’t understand why I have pink/blue/purple/orange/green hair and tattoos and piercings but I’m not homeless or a prostitute. They don’t understand why when they ask me when I’m planning on getting married and popping out children I laugh, chug my wine/vodka/whiskey/roofie and exclaim “NOPE” loudly into their mouth hole. They don’t understand why by the end of the interaction I’m staring at their loved one with hatred and wondering if I could start a forest fire in their house. Unless your aunt that had all the abortions in high school gets blacked out, drags me into the kitchen, and tells me all the dirty secrets of your family while feeding me shots, I don’t give a fuck about your family. I’ll be in Buena Park taking my pants off and trying to sit on my sister-in-law’s lap. Merry Fucking Christmas whores.

3. I can wear sweatpants all day every day and shave my legs NEVER.  

My favorite winter look is the homeless, I put on every article of clothing I own because I have no other choice, inspired ensemble. I want to wear all my sweaters, jackets, scarves and leggings under sweatpants. I realize that dudes think yoga pants are hot because they get sucked into your asshole and give you super sexy cameltoe. However I am also aware that sweatpants make you single. If you weren’t already single, you are now. Congrats! If I have a dickhead in my life during the holidays it really fucks with my life. I have to wear yoga pants in lieu of sweatpants and now have a permanent front and back wedgie. Also now all the cunts in Long Beach that actually go to Yoga and Pilates and Cross-Cunt or whatever the fuck it is have full reign to give me side eye because we both know my ass isn’t going to work out. I’m going to the bar. To get really drunk so I don’t feel embarrassed to pull out my wedgies in public. Being dickhead free means I only have to shave my legs wherever skin shows. I don’t have to brush my hair until like noon because I have no interaction with any other human before then. I can wear sweatpants and two sweatshirts and four scarves at all times within the confines of my home. And guess what? No one tries to mug me because they assume I’m one of them. BAM. Nailed it!

And the best part of being single during the holidays:

4. I can bang ALL the dudes on New Year’s Eve.

Yup. That’s right. I can stick my tongue in everyone’s mouth. I can participate in a glitter orgy. Or a bubble orgy. Or a syrup orgy. Okay maybe not syrup. That sounds fucking gross. But glitter and bubbles? Fuck yeah! Oh you’re making out with your boyfriend for the 6th year in a row? Cool. FUCKING LOSERS. I’m making out with a guy named “Red Jacket” and then I’m gonna make out with a guy named “Suspenders” and maybe even throw in a little 2nd base action with “Zach Morris Hair”. This will go down while the couples stand around sadly, wishing they had my life, but pretending that they’re disgusted. I see you Sarah and Bobby. I know you want to be fisted by a man covered in glitter. And bubbles. Maybe next year fuckers!!

So while I could send out Christmas cards of me wearing matching sweaters with my geriatric pets and signing it with my tears, I’m gonna not do that. I’m gonna be glad I don’t have to deal with a dickhead and that my furry kids don’t even know what Christmas is so I don’t have to buy them shit. Also I know that my parents will provide all the drinks for Christmas dinner and don’t care if I’m blacked out by 8:00 p.m. and screaming obscenities at the neighbors.

Sidenote: If I land myself a rich daddy in the next 9 days, disregard everything I’ve just said. I’ll take some Chanel sunglasses, one of those chain purses and let’s throw in a faux fur coat. Thanks daddy!!

Monday, December 7, 2015

pussy pity party. of one.

I heard something so offensive the other day that I almost offered myself to ISIS to be a suicide bomber because I couldn’t even handle that was happening in this world. (Too soon? Sorry, not sorry.)

My coworker was talking about her family getting together for the holidays and mentioned how she was super excited to see her younger sister, but she was also a little hesitant because little sis is kind of a Judge Judy and my coworker is recently separated from her douche husband and has been gettin some side D. Like lots of side D. I’m basically living vicariously through her vagina because it’s being worked harder than that wrecking ball in Miley Cyrus’s music video. Anyway, let me move on from my bitterness and get back to the story. I asked her why her sister would be mad about her having a Stella got her groove back moment. Then she said her sister is a 30 year old virgin and plans on staying that way until marriage. After I made a lot of weird noises in my throat and the muscle spasms in my face calmed down, I basically screamed at her to repeat herself. (How I still have a job is a fucking miracle.) In all seriousness, I thought virgins were extinct after the age of 25. Or at least there are about as many as those nearly extinct albino rhinos. Even the Mormons are smart enough to get married at like 14 so they can get it in. If my mind had been a virgin, this would have been an epic milestone because this conversation fucked my mind super hard.

So then I was thinking maybe she just doesn’t date. I guess if you’ve never had a serious boo or at least someone who didn’t make you barf in your mouth and you could hang out with for more than a few hours, maybe penetration was never on the table. (P.S. penetration on a table should ALWAYS be on the table) I have a few friends (ok maybe like 1.5 friends) that only get down with people they are seriously dating. In my opinion they’re boring as shit but you know, life choices, life goals, what the fuck ever. Maybe it’s not everyone’s jam to fuck a stranger at a wedding in your car in the hotel parking lot. Allegedly.

But then I found out that this chick has had lots of serious boos. I assumed at this point that maybe she’s an under the bridge troll and if she doesn’t party she’s never had the chance to roofie someone to get it in. Nope. She’s attractive and my coworker once talked about how she had a friend with a super stinky vagina so I know she’d out her sister if her downstairs was all fucked up. At this point I was extremely confused and had to take a muscle relaxer so I could black out for a few minutes and not think before my brain exploded.

I blacked in about 10 minutes later and started thinking, are there people dating and in serious relationships who aren’t boning down? This can’t be happening in the world. What would you do with someone that you spend most of your time with if you aren’t naked at least 80% of that time? Do you talk about things? Dumb. Do you have couple hobbies like fishing or gardening or landscaping? Dear god shoot me in the face. The only reason I can be convinced to be in a relationship is the guarantee of regular D. Not having to put on pants and eyeliner and be charming is fucking magical. If all I have to do is roll over, this is a life worth living.

Maybe that’s why I’m such a disaster. Maybe you’re supposed to be in a relationship because you like the other person even if they aren’t giving you orgasms. Wait, no. I refuse to accept this. Call me shallow, but once the naked parties die down I’m out. I’m jumping off the Titanic and I’m not sharing my door, even if logically it could fit 3-4 people. Sorry bitches, I need room to stretch out.

So to my 30 year old virgins out there, you do you. If your vagina still loves you even though you ignore her, that’s rad. My vagina is not peaceful. She’s a vengeful, angry little demon and I know better than to disappoint her. Let me rephrase that. I disappoint her quite often but at least we have memories of some quality D we can talk about and help us forget the bad times. Also, just a warning, if you’re holding off on getting rid of your hymen because you think your first time is going to be magical, you’re going to want to kill yourself. I’m not kidding. My suggestion, drink a lot, take a muscle relaxer, and lower your expectations. Maybe actually have no expectations. Choose someone attractive because there’s going to be a lot of awkward eye contact. And for fuck’s sake do not choose another virgin. It’s weird enough without two people sweating and flopping around like an injured sea lion. Oh and best of luck. Here’s hoping you don’t turn into a terminal TFDer like me. (Seriously, don’t. I don’t need any more competition.)

Glossary (for those of you that aren’t avid readers and need to know what’s happening):

TFD = Trollin For Dick