Monday, February 27, 2006


I have a confession to make: I love Starbucks. To protect my identity I won't tell you my favorite drink, but no place I've tried around here makes it like Starbucks. I crave it. Also, I love the cute young girls that work there. They always seem so happy to see me, they remember my name, and quite often on slow days they will start making my drink even before I've ordered it. Once they even gave me one on the house! One day I came out of Starbucks with my favorite drink in my hand and got behind the wheel when I heard a knock on my car window. A strange woman who had been standing in the parking lot handed me a pamphlet and told me I shouldn't patronize Starbucks because they are unfair to coffee farmers and the cream they use comes from cows that have been mistreated, etc. I felt bad and stopped going to Starbucks for awhile, mainly because I didn't want that woman to see me. I started patronizing a local, independently-owned coffee place which will remain nameless. I went there at least 3 times a week for several months. But I often was made to feel like I was interrupting them from their reading or socializing with each other. They sometimes seemed annoyed to see me, and on at least one occasion I skipped stopping in for a coffee because I didn't want to bother them. I never got one on the house, that's for sure. Well, I am happy to tell you that I am back at Starbucks now, and they noticed I was gone and welcomed me back! I'm sorry, but if you want my hard-earned $3.85 you are going to have to offer me more than just "we are locally owned" or "we are native city people." Business is business.

Friday, February 24, 2006

For Sale: Several Years of my Life

I've been very pensive over the past few weeks, and, after a bit of reflection, I've realized that several of my 33 years of my life have not been the greatest. Not to me at least, though I'm sure other people might enjoy them. However, I do not care to hang on to them, so I would like to announce this amazing, one-time offer!

You have the opportunity to buy a year of my life! All years are in good condition, though previously used. Ownership of such years could be a good thing for those who are looking to get back to their childhood or want to remember how much youth can suck. You could even get one for someone as a gift!

The following years are for sale:

Year 5: This is the year that I started school and began to lose hope for signs of any intelligence in my generation. It didn't help that this was the year that my brother got a water cannon and spent the entire summer testing it on me. Ailments this year included one broken left arm.

Year 9: I didn't really have many friends this year, because we moved three times. People who enjoy solitude should consider this year. This was partially a happy year, because we left Arizona and moved to Oregon. No major physical ailments this year.

Year 13: Ah, the descent into typical teen angst. This would be a great year for someone who enjoys the overly dramatic, featuring many shouting matches, slamming doors, and even throwing occasional books and vases across the room. Exciting. Physical ailments this year included a broken right arm and a bruised sense of independence.

Year 15: The year I spent in boarding school. Not a pleasant situation at all, but if you've always wondered what a lock-down institution was like, this just might be the year for you! This year takes place in Provo, Utah, though you have no access to the nearby skiing.

Year 17: Senior year at a Catholic high school. This affirmed my original speculations during kindergarten concerning a lack of intelligence in my generation. This year was spent being generally disliked for standing up for myself and my principles, but then trying to convince myself that I didn't need any friends anyways. Great year for someone who thinks that they wasted their 'wonderful' high school years.

There you have it. Unlisted years are possibly for sale upon inquiry, but the above listed are the ones that I'm truly interested in getting rid of. My asking price per year is 73 mangos, though I may be willing to sell to the best offer, or work out a barter of some sort. For further information concerning sales, or the conditions/experiences of each year, simply contact me.

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

Friggin Lake Norman Yuppies

Unlike the girl scouts, these people get on my nerves 24/7/365; at least the girl scouts are like cicada swarms that pass within a few weeks.

Mr. LKN - with your damn metrosexual haircut blabbing on your cellphone about your latest golf game or arranging your next teetime for anyone within earshot to hear. Since you talk overloud that is pretty much anyone in the same restaurant or corner of Target. I don't give a shit about what deal you are working, I'm trying to eat here jackass.

Ms. LKN - with your bony ass bleached blonde hair. You are so perfect you make me want to vomit. You too seem to have a cell phone glued to your ear every waking hour talking about a wine&cheese tasting or some other useless bullshit that anyone in earshot can hear.

LKN Offspring (male teens) - you ignorant son of bitches coming out of a McMansion subdivsions in a new Acura that mommy&daddy just bought listening to rap music that shakes every car in 100 yards. Yes, you are from the hood you little pricks and are true gangstas, the LKN crips and their archrivals the ballantyne bloods.

LKN Offspring (female teens) - princesses in training. Good lord what a bunch of simplistic materialistic bitches. You too have acquired your parents knack for cell blabbing while driving. Small wonder I haven't been hit by one of you on the road.

LKN Offspring (preteens) generally these haven't been corrupted yet and if a distant relative can rescue them there is hope for them to grow up in a normal environment. Sadly, this never happens to most of them, they just progress into unbearable assholes as is their destiny.

I say round em up and shove em all in their Lexus sport utilities with multiple dvd screens and lock them in. Roll them slowly down a boat ramp
(ala Susan Smith) to their reward. Of course Susan Smith's kids didn't
deserve to die that way but I digress...

And stay the hell off of my lawn you brats....

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

-SBC +Comcast (for some US residents)

If I had a "do over" I would have NEVER signed with SBC DSL. Probs from DAY ONE. They sent a defective modem and I spent a month trying to convince tech support in INDIA that I had not improperly installed the DSL softwear. I have a home business and lost THOUSANDS of $$$. They finally sent out tech support who confirmed that their hardware was defective. They gave me a $20 credit. Oh boy! Years later...when I go to renew my contract...they refuse to be flexible with time frames. My parents are ill and I suspected that I would be moving across country soon. In order to not pay the exhorbitant monthly fee I had already been paying for 2 years - I had to sign a year contract. And, this was after I had waited for an hour to speak with the rude customer service rep. My father is now in the hospital, I am moving to the East Coast and have to pay SBC $99 to get out of my contract. With all the competition for High Speed Internet Providers ---DON'T CHOOSE SBC!

Might as well take the neighbor's wireless internet instead.

Monday, February 20, 2006

Where can we get an abortion for our pedigree dog?

Our lovely Pedigreed Minature Poodle was violated by our neighbors Golden Retriever. She somehow got outside when the delivery people came by and was impregnated in front of our house in broad daylight. The neighbors maid called us. I was able to rescue Madonna from the male but we now know she is pregnant. We dont want Her to have this litter of mixed puppies because we were hoping to breed Her in the springtime with another lineage from the area. Needless to say my spouse and I are completly devestated by the turn of events and found we are unable to sue the neighbor because both our dogs were loose! We cant go to our veterinarian because he handles other peoples dogs we know and are afraid they might find out.

Now Madonna lays around and eats a lot. She's become fat and I cant even take her out to meet the other dogwalking regulars because they will know she's pregnant. Has anyone else in the blogger community encountered this before? Im willing to fly her anywhere to have this problem taken care of. PLEASE HELP US. and Happy 2006.

Al~Qaida terrorist will leave us all alone ...

If we could only just Extinguish all of the immoral depraved deviates our overly so called free society alloys ...If we could eradicate the entire AIDS carrying Homosexual community , and Hollywoods loser liberal left, and the Diversity daycare center colleges of dumbing down feel goodism, and the hedonistic heretics in the Demoratic Party. Al ~Qaida would leave us be.....Its not the people of the US not even the BUSHIES Al~Qaida hates.... Its the perverted immorality of the lunatic left...So if we rid America of all lowly mentally ill Homosexuals , and all the left wing immorality. Then Islam will be cool with us! So lets make it Matthew Sheppard Jihad day everyday in every state so Al~Qaida will leave us alone !

Saturday, February 18, 2006

Asian's Can't Drive

my best friend is chinese...
and many years ago he onced forced a cop off the road and into the neighbors ivy.

I won't ever ride as a passenger in his car... ever.

the good thing is the cop knew our family, so we had a good laugh.

and this happened way back in the mid 70's.

Thursday, February 16, 2006

i'm bored

i'm bored.
i'm so bored that i'm boring my dog, who at present is flopped on her bed giving me a reproachful look for my complete and utter failure to even remotely serve as entertainment.
damn dog.
maybe she should go out and earn a living, instead of sleeping all day and showing her thanks to me - her savior, her center, her alpha, her protector - by shredding her poor inanimate brethren (is it sick to give a dog a stuffed dog?) and distributing cotton batting throughout the house with wanton abandon that would suggest that she has the opposable thumbs to clean up this tragic mess.

amount of cotton batting out of stuffed toy : size of intact stuffed toy = 3:1. maybe even 4:1. it's like those chinese noodles that expand upon hitting the hot skillet. this is truly a mystery to me, as i have generally founds physics to be boring and therefore do not pretend to understand the quirky properties of cotton batting.

i guess i could clean it up. but i think i'd be even more bored.

chronic underemployment is boring. bitching about being laid off is boring, even though my story has some spice involving sex and a balding yuppie with a napoleon complex. (i didn't have sex with aforementioned balding yuppie. these are two separate yet intertwined facets of said spice.) eh, whatever. that story has grown tiresome. if i'd even had stock options or had made some money the story might be less tiresome, but i was less flighty and shallow than some of my mercenary (i am dumb.) i thought my company was full of cool people, which was more important than my bank account, dammit, because i'm not quite 30 yet and everybody knows that if you're in your 20's and you're not carrying at least a 4-digit balance on your credit card, you're not living enough.
or you haven't gotten your trust fund yet.
this city has lots of people with trust funds. maybe i should be nicer to them.

sometimes i think that boredom is like sperm. it's a cumulative buildup due to which, should there be no release, you suddenly find yourself craving some action, absolutely unable to concentrate and depressed and and emotional yet full of malaise and obsessed with finding said action, at the same time increasingly worried that there will be no release, that you'll eventually just drown or explode from this overflow of malaise (not sperm, remember, this is a simile - otherwise that image would be kind of gross), that you absolutely don't even know if you can go on another day without release, or maybe you should just stay asleep for as long as you can to avoid thinking about it.
but maybe boys just exaggerate this sperm buildup thing in order to woo us female types into feeling sorry for them.
note to self, gents: the "blue balls" excuse/plea/line really doesn't work after high school.

i guess i could search the internet for apartment listings. kind of fun to watch prices drop. except i just moved. what if i see a place that's a better deal than mine? then i'll be depressed. but it's more heartening than searching the job listings, though, which are about as exciting and plentiful as david hasselhoff's musical stylings. (not that i'm complaining of this paucity - david, less is more.)

my dog is throwing a stuffed tigger around the room and rolling all over the floor. maybe i should try this. she doesn't look bored anymore.

no, better to save my energies for the all-important job hunt. god forbid, it may be time to go back to temping. can you make a career of boredom? temping would seem to embody a big fat "yes" on that account. on the plus side, temps are expected to be bored. their whole existence centers around a fleeting apperance to tackle the jobs so boring that salaried employees simply refuse to do them. so, then, i would at least be paid to sit on the computer all day, dissolutely surfing job postings and IMing my gainfully employed friends about my general malaise, my sorry 9th month of unemployment (i know, i know - pathetic), the irony of the ever-infuriating "over-qualified but under-experienced" line that i've been given since i graduated. i don't even know what this means. i once had a lady tell me i was too smart to take the menial position for which i was applying; does she think this made me feel better? it made me want to punch her in the nose.
that would have been exciting.
i think i'd be bored in jail, though.

maybe i should start drinking every day at noon. would i feel more or less bored if i was lubed every day? i dunno. but rehab would be pretty boring, i think.

the dog's asleep again.
i think i'll take a nap.

if you want to join me, leave a comment

Wednesday, February 15, 2006

We Sell Sexy Chicks

Welcome to MacLesbos. We are offering a special today on overly-image-conscious, bi-curious and lonely girls with intimacy issues, may I take your order?

Uh, yes-- I'd like to order a medium sized, butch dyke, and could you please hold the S&M? Light humiliation is fine.

I'm sorry we're out of butch dykes, would you like an FTM or Boi instead?

Yeah, a boi is fine, I want brown eyes on that, hair shellacked, and tatoos.

Would you like to super size that for an extra dollar?

No, medium sized Boi would be fine. Could you make sure that she's 5'6, well dressed, fit and as shallow as I am?

No problem, would you like a drink with your order?

Yeah, a diet coke. And make sure she knows that this is a descreet encounter.

You bet! That'll be $5.65 at the next window.

Monday, February 13, 2006

Butt Sniffing Strongly Encouraged

Female party animal seeks handsome mixed mutt for playground fun. This she-dawg likes many things, but truly seeks to run around the fire hydrant with a hound that will race to nibble her ankles easily and often, that enjoys experimentation, especially on the old wool blanket, and doesn't mind nibbling on a little herb. We can be pals or more, it'll depend on your smell... But it'll have to me a strong chemistry before we ever hit the dog house blanket together... or lots of liquor accidently spilled into the ol' water bowl! {{howl!!}}

I can assure you that I am a very playful and adventurous and a pretty mixed-breed with a steady stream of kibble to my bowl, and my own playground. You would love partying with me. I'm easy going and easy to please. I am also open to steady play dates and more with just the right scoundrel.

But right now this she-dawg just wants to have fun after a long week out in the world. And if you would scratch me behind my ears, I just might lick your face. Please don't bark up my tree unless you are seriously ready for a change of pace - a breath of fresh air. I ain't no ordinary alley stray - I'm the one that's been locked in the yard and wants to see what everyone else has been doing. My coat and teeth are shiny and clean, and my tail has that special wag of anticipation. Come on, let's pant and droll on the rug together!

All breeds encouraged to toss a bone into the bowl, bonus points to all that had their maleness snipped. No puppies for this bitch!

My expectation from this: Nothing more than a new playground friend to run around the neighborhood with, or just snuggle up with on the living room fur rug (I'm not allowed on the couch) with some great tunes and maybe some mutual belly rubbing 'til our legs go crazy in mid-air. Be aware that I'm not looking for matching dog collars, I'm looking for a playmate that doesn't use chain link fence, and no long ropes to a tree out in the yard. A collarless romp in the yard sounds pretty good to this old dog entering the second half of Life. The only ropes in our yard will be silk scarves from my master's drawer. ;-)

And hey, I don't need you to bury a bone for me, but if we could maybe share some Kibbles 'n Bits occasionally I think it'd be nice. Smoky doggy-breath and fleas are deal breakers, but a snoring hound dog is okay with me. I won't even banish you to the back porch. :-)

If you're between 252 and 343 in dog years, I'd love to hear your growl and maybe even your bark! I am 5'5", have a great laugh and an easy smile, a devilish twinkle in my eye, a delicious curvy body with nary a stray patch of fur, and a totally open mind that is 301 dog years young.

Come on baby - let's howl at the moon together!!! Hey! I live near a fire station too - that should bring some great howl opportunities as well. So bring over your frisbee or old chew sock and let's enjoy some time getting to know one another. But be forewarned that currently "owned" hounds will be tossed to the curb!

Please tell me more about your lineage, your breed, and your personal playground dream. You need to say more than "arf-arf" to attract my attention! I'm the show-dog who's tired of prancing around the ring... what's your story?

P.S. Butt sniffing strongly encouraged. :-)

Friday, February 10, 2006

Sound Advice for 'Bi-Curious' Girls

Sound Advice for "Bi-Curious" Girls

Okay, first off, if you want to get laid, avoid using the term "bi-curious." It is a flat-out turn off to anyone who has spent any time in the queer community. It sounds dumb, and it makes you sound dumb. Now you know.

Secondly, leave out the sob story about the long-suppressed fantasy. Heads up, every queer here has a sob story! Yours isn't special, in fact its boring.

Thirdly, just describe the woman you want. Skip the sexual history and don't worry about coming up with a label for yourself. Saying (and showing) you're into girls is usually proof enough. If she cares about the rest, she'll ask.

Fourthly, go to gay bars. If you don't know where one is, do your homework. Make some phone calls, surf the internet, walk around the Mission. Meet people. Treat everyone you meet as a potential friend, not a potential fuck. Friends are good. You can be honest with them and ask them for advice. Queer friendships can support you through the coming-out process.

Fifthly, lower your expectations (can't say it enough). Not all girls are cute, but some of them are smart and funny as hell.

Sixthly, leave your boyfriend out of it and at home. If he wants a threesome, tell him to take it up the ass from another man while you watch.

Lastly, confidence is the number one sexiest quality in any woman. If you sound ambivalent or unsure of yourself, how can you expect anyone else to take you seriously? Take heart, be brave, and seize the day.


Its not real, its just a joke.


I'm a late 20ish IT professional who's looking for a fellow tech nut
to talk about operating systems (mainly linux and solaris), databases (primarily oracle and mysql), perl and shell scripting and, oh yeah, also have lots of hot cheap sex. I can't tell you how many times I've been at work and one of my fellow engineers will start talking about compiling source code, or using rpm to install a package on linux and all I can do is think about how bad I'd like to "rollback his segments" (a little dirty
talk for all the db admins), but you can't shit where you eat, so I'm forced to turn to this blog for love.

I know what the "finger" command does and I'm not ashamed to use it!

Give me a try. I think you'll find that my perl scripted, automated online backups aren't the only thing "hot" about me.

BTW, I'm super cute, in shape, lots of fun, disease free, have a reliable car and a porn star body and I'm really a woman.

Wednesday, February 08, 2006

Brunette, high black boots, 7:30 AM, Market-Spear-Mission

Strikingly attractive brunette, high black boots, short skirt, nice little knees poking out, 7:25 AM this morning (Tuesday) Market Street made a right on Spear. Looked like you were walking into the building on the corner of Spear and Mission, but the light changed and I had to move on for fear that the large angry testosterone filled truck driver behind would get out and kick my ass, not that I was sweating her, just didn’t think it was cool to be blocking traffic, pondering how to get next to you. You were walking too quickly (couldn’t tell if it was the determined-to-get-to-my-desk- before-7:30-and-kick-some-ass walk, or the malodorous-people-dispensing-fliers-leave-me-alone walk, or it could have been, god forbid, the ignore-the-cute-professional-guy-checking-me-out walk) for me to catch the menacing ring finger. Whatever the walk, or ring finger status, you simply must respond to my bellow of pining. If not you, then your friends or coworkers who are reading this blog and know exactly whom I am talking about. Do a good deed, go over, and let her know.

You Crushed my House, but Looked Good Doing It

You: Cute boy in the giant robot chasing strange extra-terrestrial beings. Me: Girl cooking fakin'bacon when your robot's foot came through the roof of my apartment. I think you broke my toe, but I also think we made a serious connection. I could see the passion and intensity in your eyes as you looked down at me through the windshield. Too bad that giant jellyfish dragged you away so fast. Could we do coffee sometime?

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

In Search Of : The Elusive Bi-Female

Shhh. We're stalking the most elusive of creatures, here in the steamy jungles of the internet. Yes, I'm speaking of the legendary bisexual female. Of course, there are several variety of bi-F, and many can be found at watering holes, cafes and Osento.

But the mythic bi-F, those rare few interested in being the 'guest star', 'third wheel', 'girlfriend' with an established couple, well, that's a sub-species that can make a biologist's career.

Even today, no one quite knows how this species behaves - what motivates them, how do they reproduce, how can they be lured into displaying their beautiful mating behavior in one's bedroom. How does the 'bi-curious' behavior differ from the more established 'bi.' Do they enjoy wine and 420? Does a hot tub interest them? It's a mystery.

Markings from several of these rare creatures were sighted on the internet, but the predominance of '23 year old bi Asian hotties' led some researchers to be suspicious and there is some evidence that these were frauds posted by Big Dave in IT to throw us off the trail.

More recently, internet causal encounters has been experiencing a cyclical overpopulation of prostitutes, men looking for 'the ladies', and men wanting to fuck on stairs. This has led to an increased scarcity of bi-F sightings and some fear they may have become an endangered species.

Nevertheless, brave researchers such as myself continue in our quest. Using solid science, phermone therapy, witty postings, and Photoshop-enhanced "pics" as bait, we wait, and wait...

Monday, February 06, 2006

So you're showing my apartment?

I've been getting a lot of comments, if I answer some of them then it may kill the joke(s). Vibry is doing good, almost overheated...

Yesterday after coming home from an extremely long, stressful day of work, I plopped down on the couch to relax for a bit. Laying in front of the TV is great, but an orgasm would really help me blow off some steam. Lucky for me, I had recently purchased a rabbit, so I retrieved that from my bedroom, returned to the couch, and brought up some gay porn on my laptop(side rant-- will someone please make porn tailored to women?) Just as I was beginning to get that tingling feeling that happens before I come, I heard the sound of someone trying to unlock the door to my apartment. WHATTHEFUCKISTHIS!? Shit! I am naked from the waist down holding a loud-ass vibrator standing in front of a laptop on which a man is moaning loudly and telling another man how he wants him to "put it in my ass!" SHIT! WHO THE FUCK IS COMING IN THE DOOR RIGHT NOW?

I completely panic. My shaking hands try desperately to turn the vibrator off, but in my excited state I completely forget how to do it..there are so many buttons!! why did I buy the fancy model??? I rip the batteries out of the stupid thing after fumbling with it and wasting precious seconds. I throw everything in the closet of my bedroom, close the door, and start to look for some pants. Then I remember that gay porn is still being played loudly on my couch. FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! I could hear the sound of the second lock unlocking. I dash back into the livingroom and try with my again shaking hands to at least turn the volume down. The door is opening at this point so I snatch the laptop and scurry half-nakedly back to my bedroom while depressing the volume button. Unfortuately, I hit the wrong side of the volume button and deafeningly loud moans are now emanating from my bedroom--gay men moans. Shit! People are in my living room now. I yell "ONE MOMENT!!!!" as loud as I can, trying to try to drown the sounds of Brad getting slammed in the ass. In a complete state of terror I make the unwise decision of throwing the laptop as far under my bed as I can, hoping that the boxspring and mattress would be enough to muffle the sound of my laptop at full volume. Sadly, it was not. People are milling about in the apartment now, so I grab some shorts from my bureau and emerge from my bedroom to greet the realtor and prospective new tenants in a dress shirt and shorts, flushed, and visibly shaken. I introduce myself over the sounds of an apparent orgy in my bedroom to a profusely apologizing realtor and a smirking couple. I summoned as much dignity as I could, smiled devilishly, and returned to the fake orgy in my bedroom as they showed themselves out.

Saturday, February 04, 2006

RANT: The Rules of Breaking Up

There seems to have been some confusion regarding division of property and space since we have broken up. YOU, hereafter referred to as the Dumper, do not retain the same rights to such things as ME, hereafter referred to as the Dumpee. Clearly the Dumpee has been wronged (except in certain situations, see Section 1(b) below), and thus retains more rights than the Dumper. To clarify, I have assembled a crack legal team to outline this document, so that you will quit being a complete and total prick. Actually, not all of these things apply to us, but for the sake of friends, family, and members of the general public who have also been Dumped, I’ve included other situations.

This document applies only to those relationships that involved terms such as “boyfriend” and “girlfriend,” not couples who have taken that long argumentative road-trip that ends in the State of Matrimony. Caveats have been made for engagement, as most rules still apply.

Section 1: Terms of Separation (hereafter termed the Breakup)

(a) The rights of the Dumpee shall be directly proportional to the severity and immaturity of the methods of Separation used by the Dumper. For example, a Dumper (hereafter termed a Good Dumper) who breaks up with Dumpee face-to-face, in person, in a private place, and outlines issues which the Dumpee was aware of, and in fact is not too surprised at, with said discussion ending in a tearful hug cherished by both parties, and perhaps an incident of Goodbye Sex, shall not be severely punished. However, a Dumper (hereafter termed a Bad Dumper) who breaks up with a Dumpee in an especially cowardly way, such as over the phone, through email, or by having a friend tell the Dumpee, shall experience extensive limitations on rights after the Breakup. Most severely punished shall be those Dumpers (hereafter termed Assholes) who repeatedly Breakup and then Beg Forgiveness, and Dumpers who have Cheated.

(b) Exceptions to the Dumper/Dumpee division of rights are as follows: Dumpees who provoke the Breakup by avoiding the Dumper until such time as the Dumper feels forced to end the relationship. Dumpees who intentionally get caught Cheating and are shortly afterward, Dumped. These Dumpees shall be considered as Dumpers for the purposes of this document.

Section 2: Division of Property and Space

(a) Material Property
(1) If the Dumper is a Good Dumper, all material property that Dumper brought to the relationship shall be returned to the Dumper. Likewise, all property the Dumpee possessed before the relationship shall be returned to the Dumpee.
(2) If the Dumper is a Bad Dumper, or an Asshole, Dumpee has the right to destroy or sell any property left for any period of time in the Dumpee’s possession. This includes, but is not limited to, furniture, electronics, kitchen wares, clothing, CDs, and cars. Dumpee is aware that destruction of items holds a possibility of legal ramifications and continuous retaliation, and destroys Dumper’s property then at their discretion.

(b) Gifts
(1) Dumpee retains all rights to gifts he or she received during the relationship, especially expensive ones. In the case of a Good Dumper, Dumpee can determine whether return of these gifts is acceptable. If the Dumper was female, and the Dumpee was male, and said parties were engaged, and said engagement ended in a Good Breakup, the engagement ring should be returned to the Dumpee. If the Dumpee does not want the ring, the Dumper can sell it on Craigslist and split the profits with the Dumpee. Bad Dumpers and Assholes retain no rights to jewelry or cars.
(2) Dumpee can, if feeling spiteful, box up all gifts received from the Dumper and return them to Dumper with a tear-stained letter. Dumper should feel sufficiently bad, and should not, under any circumstances, maintain possession of these gifts in order to give them to future Girlfriends/Boyfriends. Said gifts should be sold and Dumper is then welcome to use the money to take a vacation to Tahoe and hopefully, break their leg skiing.

(c) Exchange of Property
(1) If the couple was living together, and the Dumper has moved out, the Dumper should send a friend to pick up his or her belongings. The exception is a Good Dumper, who may be on sufficiently good terms with Dumpee to come back and retrieve their own things. If this is the case, it should still be done while the Dumpee is Not Home. Bad Dumpers and Assholes forfeit their belongings, as outlined in Section 2: (a)2.
(2) If the couple was living together, and the Dumpee has moved out, the Dumpee will send a friend to pick up his or her belongings at an appointed date and time. Said friend will not be late and will not linger. Said friend may make a few rude remarks to the Dumper, but such remarks should be brief and to the point. Again, if the Dumper is a Good Dumper, the Dumpee can pick up their own belongings when the Dumper is Not Home.
(3) If the couple did not live together, exchange of property should be done in public at an appointed date and time. Both parties shall be on time and shall not linger. Again, rude remarks shall be brief.
(4) Items not claimed by the Dumper within one calendar month after the Breakup are the property of the Dumpee, unless exchange of property arrangements were made prior to the end of that month. Likewise is true for items not claimed by the Dumpee.
(5) Items that “Cannot Be Found” by either party shall be considered a lost cause after one month. If it was really that important, you shouldn’t have let that idiot have it.

(d) Big Ticket Items
(1) If the relationship included the purchase of a car, a house, a prize-winning show dog, or other such item of which you now both have dual legal ownership, you are in Deep Shit. Maybe you should have thought about making that kind of investment together before you pissed your whole life away? Wait until you’re married, dumbass.

(e) The Pet
(1) See Section 2: Article (d)1 first. If you still want to deal with the Pet (hereafter termed the Dog), we’ll continue. Dogs that were owned by either party before the commencement of the relationship shall return to their original owners. Dogs acquired during the course of the relationship shall preferably go with the owner who gave them the most care. C’mon, you know there’s one of you who did all the feeding, the training, the walking, the pooper-scooping, the leash-buying and the ball-tossing. The Dog goes with that one. Except in the case where that person is a Bad Dumper or an Asshole, in which case, Dumpee retains possession of the Dog. There shall be no Split Custody, or Visitation Rights involving the Dog. It’s not good for the Dog, and it’s not good for you. If all things regarding the Dog were absolutely equal, then a Poll of Friends may be taken, or a Coin may be Flipped. Decisions made by PoF or CF about the Dog are final. If you did not get the Dog, and you are distraught, wait 2 weeks until your head clears, and then go to the Humane Society and get another one. You will be much happier that way.

(f) The Kid
(1) Sigh. Okay, first see Section 2: Article (d)1. You are an idiot. Haven’t you heard of birth control? Well now it’s not just you in this boat, so a lot of the earlier terms and conditions about Dumpers and Dumpees may not apply. Even if your Breakup involved a Bad Dumper or an Asshole, you will have to be nice, for the Sake of the Kid. This is really outside the range of this document, so go to court and try not to screw up your Kid’s life any more than you already have.

Section 3: The Friends

(a) The Dumpee gets the Friends. Sorry, dems da breaks. If you were smart about picking your relationship, you were dating somebody who was not from your immediate circle of friends, so when you Breakup, you each go cry to your respective group and everything is dandy. Unfortunately, many friends become Booty Calls, which can then become That Girl I’m Sorta Dating, which can then become Your Girlfriend. Relationships over one year also have a high incidence of Combined Friends. Regardless, the Dumpee still gets the Friends! But there are some details/exceptions/conditions associated with the possible future division of Friends, so here they are:

Specifics of Division of Friends

(1) In the case of a Good Dumper, Split Custody is acceptable. Within the first 6 months, a Good Dumper has the right to still hang out with the Friends, but only if the Dumpee is not present. After 6 months, it is acceptable for the Dumper to call the Dumpee and request mutual access to the Friends. If Dumpee is amenable, the two may attend a party or barbeque together with the Friends. The Good Dumper is at all times aware of the Dumpee’s feelings, and will be the first to leave if things get awkward. After one year, expect normal Friend-Dumper-Dumpee interactions to resume. If you got dumped by a Good Dumper and you are all hanging out again after a year and you’re totally cool and you’re not strongly reconsidering getting back together, then Damn. He’s probably gay. That’s cool that you guys are still friends though. Maybe you can shop and stuff.

(2) In the case of a Bad Dumper, Visitation Rights are acceptable, under some circumstances. Bad Dumper only retains Friendship Rights with his or her Best Friend, and then, only at Best Friend’s discretion. Everyone else is fully justified in telling you to piss off. After one year, a Split Custody arrangement may be made, but Bad Dumper is never to be allowed at a party that the Dumpee is attending. This must be enforced strongly by Friends and the Dumpee.

(3) In the case of an Asshole, no rights are retained regarding the Friends. Not even to the Best Friend. You fucked up but good, so now go find yourself a bunch of shallow, selfish people just like yourself, so you can all get drunk and stab each other in the back. This also applies to such Dumpers described in Section 1; Article (b), as those Dumpers who pose as Dumpees are especially despicable.

(b) Relationships with Friends after the Breakup

(1) Under NO circumstances is a Dumper allowed to sleep with any of the Friends after the Breakup. ESPECIALLY the Dumpee’s Best Friend, but truly, there are NO exceptions. Even if she says it’s okay. Even if you guys have a long talk about it and she says it’s fine and she wants you to be happy. You better take a good look at a girl’s Friends before you get Committed, because if you would ever like to possibly sleep with one of those girls, you should not enter into the Relationship. Good Dumpers who break this rule can then be qualified as Bad Dumpers. Sleeping with the Best Friend immediately qualifies you as an Asshole. (Best Friend can also then be Broken Up With, and most of the terms of this document apply.) Remember, Assholes are open to justifiable destruction of property, and are often deserving of a swift kick in the Balls.

Section 4: The Neighborhood

(a) The Dumpee retains all rights to the Neighborhood, including but not limited to, grocery stores, shopping malls, dog parks, coffee shops, bars, hang-outs, strip malls, carwashes, and restaurants. If the Dumper sees the Dumpee in one of these places, the Dumper must immediately leave. The only exception is a Good Dumper who is back on Good Terms with the Dumpee, especially one year or more after the Breakup. See Section 3; Article (a)1 for details.

All terms of this document are not legally binding, but they make a hell of a lot of sense. Don't be an Asshole, and your life will be so much easier.

(In case you didn’t get it, this means I get the stuff, the friends and the hangouts. Quit whining about your freaking sweatshirt and stay the fuck away from me.)

Why I'm giving myself a vibrator for Christmas

Well, once again it's Christmas, and I must admit I am not at all full of the spirit this year. Why? Well, you could say it's because my boyfriend and I split up, or that my parents got divorced and my dad got hitched to some woman he probably met on CL, or because I'm too fucking cheap to buy Christmas presents.

Well, all of those things are true, but that's not what Scrooged me this Christmas. In fact, there's no Scrooging going on at all, because I'M NOT GETTING LAID. That's right, folks, I'm not getting any of the ho-ho-ho. No one, not even a fat man in a red suit, is squeezing down my chimney this Christmas. In the past six months, I've had sex exactly once, and it sucked. And I'm starting to get horny. Really horny.

There are ominous internal signs of my horniness. My hypothetical "age range" has increased by about ten years in either direction, so that I now carry three accessories in my purse for the right moment with that special guy: condoms, Viagra, and lollipops. I've had sexual fantasies involving the hairy-chested bartender at my favorite drinking establishment, the guy who delivers produce to the restaurant I work in, my forty-five-year-old married boss, a character in a novel I read (an imaginary man! Not only imaginary sex, but imaginary sex with an imaginary person!), John Cusack, the guy at the gym who always wears a Rage Against the Machine T-shirt, and that guy who comes into my restaurant every day with his laptop and orders coffee. I can only pray that my preoccupation goes unnoticed by my friends and coworkers.

So, you ask, why don't you just get it over with and get it on? It wouldn't be difficult. I'm attractive, in shape, late twenties, intelligent, decent sense of humor, up on current events, blah-de-freakin-blah. Not like any of that shit really matters to most guys, as long as you have a fully functional and disease-free female genitalia. Well, here's why I'm maintaining my abstinent streak and giving myself the gift that will keep on giving, an Aqua Rabbit waterproof vibrator:

1. My new vibrator will not start begging me for a blow job before I even get him out of the box.
2. My new vibrator will not ask me to "snuggle."
3. I will not have to make awkward post-coital conversation with my new vibrator. I won't even have to look at him. He'll be stashed neatly away in my nightstand drawer.
4. My new vibrator will not tell all the other household appliances that I like to do it doggystyle and be smacked on the ass with a wire hanger.
5. My new vibrator will not shut down just when I'm about to have an orgasm, and if he does, it's nothing that three fresh AA batteries can't fix.
6. There is no chance that my vibrator will give me an STD or impregnate me with a screaming, snot-tipped baby vibrator.
7. When I'm done, I can turn my new vibrator off and he won't grumble or try to lay a guilt trip on me. I won't have to endure ten more minutes of monotonous pounding while I stare at the ceiling and make up my daily to-do list in my head.
8. My vibrator will not steal the covers in the middle of the night or fart in bed.
9. My vibrator will not beg me to get a Brazilian bikini wax or any other costly procedure involving the ripping out of my taint hairs by a complete stranger.

And finally,

10. Anytime I want to I can upgrade to the larger, more powerful Synergy model with oscillating action, six speeds, and five interchangeable attachments. My old vibrator will not threaten me, speed by my house at night with his stereo blaring, tell his friends I was a "psycho bitch," or call me up at 3 a.m. drunk and remind me of all the great times we had.

You know why? Because he's a fucking vibrator.

Merry Fucking Christmas!…and I mean that in the best possible way.

Friday, February 03, 2006

One-Night-Stand Boy: I have a small request

One night stand boy,

Thank you for buying me all those fancy, lime-flavored drinks, and thank you for listening to me as I got tipsy and rambled on. Thank you for taking me home and fucking my brains out, thank you! Thanks for being a good guy and having condoms with you, and for wanting to use them, and being a responsible person. Thank you for needing to use more than one, and for having a huge dick. All in all, a wonderful one-night-stand experience.

I realize that men are not all as enthusiastic about clean up as women, and that you as an individual may not be as fastidious as I am. So thanks for dealing with the used condom. Thank you for not just throwing it on the floor next to the bed like one guy I dated, who also threw his dirty socks and underwear next to the bed and thought I would pick them up and wash them (he did not stay long). Thanks for getting up, even though you just came, and going to the bathroom to throw away the condom. Hopefully you tied it, and your potentially infectious bodily fluids will not spill. (I do think most men know by now not to throw it in the toilet, but thanks anyway for not doing that.)

I know all of this was a lot to ask in exchange for a night of hot sex. I do, however, have just one more request to make. Look at my bathroom. Look at the trashcan. It is one of those little blue bathroom accessories and it matches the other accessories. There isn’t much in the bathroom trashcan. Some cotton balls, maybe a Kleenex or two, the packaging from an eyeliner I recently bought.

A few months ago a certain hot one night stand threw his condom in the trash on top of all the q-tips, and since I was pretty much passed out in the bedroom after a fantastic orgasm (thanks!), he then got dressed and left. Several hours later, around 4 a.m. I got one of those emergency calls to go pick up my recent ex, who had been in a car crash--nothing dangerous--and was unable to drive home. He was upset, and lonely and of course I brought him to my house because I thought he needed company. I did not know at this point that there was a used condom staring up out of my bathroom trashcan. As you can imagine, my ex was less than thrilled and I did not get any sleep that night.

I also occasionally have more than one one-night-stand in a weekend. I do try to clean up after them, but sometimes with the hangover and the going out again, things are not as tidy as I would like them to be. And when I bring a guy home, a used condom in the trash is not really a sexy accessory. I know, it’s my house and I should clean it. I know, I’m a slut (but you weren’t complaining last night). So, given that the bathroom is full of handy things like toilet paper and Kleenex, would you mind terribly wrapping the condom up before you throw it away? I promise to give you a great blow job in exchange for your consideration.