Way to go Mohammed, just ruining shit for me and my upcoming honeymoon! Now The Fiancee is going to be freaking timing my ass anytime I go down the hall to get ice or some shit! Just ruining shit for everyone. But seriously though, what’s this chick doing in the bedroom on the honeymoon? Why is Mohammed hitting up prostitutes on Backpage.com? Even if I had internet access during my honeymoon (next week btw), you wouldn’t catch my ass on it for even one second even to play Candy Crush. Between all the shit to do on the cruise and the islands and nailing The Fiancee six ways to Sunday, there shouldn’t be time for anything else let alone hitting up some pros. My thinking is that Mohammed’s fiancee might not have been getting shit done if you know what I mean. A guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do if she ain’t doing it for him! But hitting up a Backpage.com hooker ad while on your honeymoon? Fuck that noise. That shit is always either a mugging or a police sting waiting to happen. Just go in the bathroom, rub one out, and go the fuck to sleep and hope for a handy from the wife in the morning.

Tomorrow I’m going on a crash diet and support group for yoga addicts, but today? TODAY I’m eating a fake cheeseburger and researching (you know, watching porn) like a real LADY. A real lady who doesn’t worry about calorie counts and whether or not she ironed her shirt. TODAY I’m letting go, because I am writing about pubic hair, closet relationships and my top 5 favorite sex moments. What can I say? I didn’t do anything fun over the weekend like wear a weird, inappropriately short dress to a super important dinner and it’s Monday, so I need to make up for it somewhere: so here I GO…

THAT HE DOESN’T WANT A RELATIONSHIP. What is this? I mean, why do we do this? Pardon me while I dust off my old soapbox again, but I have to tell you two very important things. ONE- When a person tells you something, especially when it comes to his penis-parts, YOU SHOULD BELIEVE HIM. If he has enough balls to TELL you he doesn’t want a relationship, and you STILL start sleeping with his and stupidly THINK you’re going to get him to commit, then you are just a straight up idiot and deserve to get what’s coming to you. TWO-You are what’s called a “closet relationship” you know, basically casual sex. You go to his house, he goes to yours. Maybe you even talk to each other about things like the news or past relationships, but you don’t do things like introducing each other to friends or family members. You don’t go places in public and you certainly DON’T make it Facebook official. Because we all know, nothing is REAL until it’s on Facebook. Duh.

Now I’m all about being realistic. It’s a fun place to be. I have a friend who is currently in her 5th year mark of a relationship with a man who told her straight up at day one, “I am never going to marry you. I am never going to have kids. NEVER.” Now, being married is kind of this girl’s ENTIRE REASON FOR LIVING. This woman wants not one kid, but 3 kids, house with a finished basement, purebred dog, joint bank accounts, fights over the heating bill, vacations to Six Flags, tours of colleges on the east coast, you get it. Why didn’t that relationship end as soon as she found out her manfriend didn’t want to pollinate her flower? Because she remains convinced, despite all evidence to the contrary, that one day after all these days of banging a dude who is ambivalent about her that he is going to wake up, rub the sleep out of his eyes, roll out of bed to the jeweler, and hide a four-carat engagement rock in her profiteroles after dinner.

But, Honey that’s not going to happen. It just won’t. The likelier story is he’s going to meet some other woman while in line at Whole Foods on a Tuesday morning after he was huffing and puffing at the gym and they are going to run off into the sun set. And you want to know what? You CAN’T even call him an Asshole, because he TOLD her from day one he wasn’t going to marry her!!! The feedback on this will be relentless BUT, there is no harm sportfucking some trick you understand you have future with. Just remember: You can’t turn a Ho into a Housewife.

This is a great question, although I would like to eliminate the word “bed” from the equation. That makes things so incredibly limited. In fact my Top 5 best sex moments did NOT occur in a bed. I try to stay away from all that buttery nuclear American crap. Having sex in a bed is for when your 65 and because you have two hip replacements. Or, you know, if you happen to be one of those types that are into silk sheets, candles and John Tesh. Below you will find my Top 5 favorite sex moments. Ladies and Gentlemen you should be doing these things. How else are you going to learn to be awesome at wrapping your kegels around Mister Right(Now)?

1-The Cab – One evening while out drinking, we decided we needed to leave. Immediately. At this point, I should mention, after a few drinks I develop the idea that I have become invisible to nearly everyone around me. Lucky for us, there happened to be a cab pulling up to the bar just as I was stumbling and slurring inappropriate things into my date’s ear. As we climbed into the back seat, the people who had actually called for the cab became a little annoyed that we had hijacked their ride in a drunken fury. Of course, I had the perfect solution!! I would simply straddle the fine gentleman, making enough room for the other folks to squish into the cab with us. To my delight the hands of my date found their way up my skirt and quickly pushed my panties aside, making this the most enjoyable cab ride of my life.

2-Kitchen Bitch – Sometimes I like to pretend I’m a housewife and cook dinner. Sometimes I even do the dishes. I had this one particular man who would fuck me while I washed the dishes. Now, that’s something, I don’t mind getting dishpan hands for.

3-Lock Out - After returning home one night after an all night drinking event, my date and I found ourselves locked out of my house. This was due to my then roommate (you know, back before I was 30 and lived with people who weren’t sleeping with me) took my keys and accidentally locked me out. For a few moments we banged on the door and throw rocks and such at the windows in an effort to rouse the rest of the drunken idiots to no avail. Since it was dawn, and the sun was rising, I figured, heck, it was obviously the best time to give my date a blow job while the sun came up. At some point one of my roommates came down, and threw open the door, creating quite the scene.

4-Misbehaving - I had been seeing this particular gentleman for not too long and I had provided “too much information” on a social networking site one day. Oooops. I was going to be punished apparently. After dinner with one of my friends we went back to my house, where I went into the dining room for something (who knows what? This detail is completely lost to me now) where said gentleman followed me, and promptly bent me over the table and administered a spanking. This was then followed by his taking down my tights and turning me around and having me sit on the table where he provided some of the best oral sex I’ve ever received. A smashing way to end a date!

5-Stairway to Heaven. There’s nothing hotter than a man who wants you right then and there. It’s those animalistic urges that make sex so HOT. So when your then-boyfriend is walking up the stairs behind you, grabs your hair and pushes you onto your knees and proceeds to undress you then and there. This can only lead to so insanely hot sex.

This is a topic that has been done to death, yet people always like to debate it. Pubic hair is just gross. I don’t know a single dude that LIKES it. I have yet to come across a man that has WANTED me to have pubic hair. In fact, I have come to the conclusion anyone who leaves their pubic hair completely natural has some sort of intimacy issues and/or confused regarded sexual identity.

For anyone who tries to throw out that incredibly ridiculous argument, (which I have a hard time even CALLING it that), “I don’t want to be looking at a 12 year old in bed”. Please, man the fuck up! Really? How many women are you banging that even RESEMBLE a 12 year old? I know my 36DD’s don’t look like something that would be on a 12 year old body, nor are my hips or my ass. Now, maybe your are fucking some underdeveloped women that are severely malnutrition, and maybe you find that attractive but does she SOUND like a 12 year old? Does she talk and behave like a 12 year old? If so, you should be seeing a shrink.

Now when I approach a penis, I know what I don’t want to see. That being a lot of hair. I know a lot of men don’t feel that they need to wax or shave, which is FINE. But you better keep that shit GROOMED. I’ve been lucky; I haven’t run into any out of control pubic hair since I dated this pretentious hipster a few years ago. Part of me was really impressed by the out of control growth of all his pubic hair. Astounded, actually. He didn’t understand why I was so impressed. He was never impressed by anything; but that’s exactly WHY he was a hipsters. Anyway, no one wants to see your out of control pubic hair. More importantly, no one wants to be getting it in their mouth, so rule of thumb, Keep it clean. Go bare, or trimmed tight.

EDITORS NOTE: Damn Sarah, those are some hot sex scenes you painted for us…. I know there are more! Oh and about the hair thing, I covered that too a while back and it caused quite the stir. Check out the original story 

Wow, what a stupid bitch. Ok now I think I know for sure this chick is bat shit insane. She planned this all along. Make a porn for a ton of money. Get pregnant. Get another reality show. Hey it kind of worked for her before right? She got knocked up and got a two tv shows out of it. I actually do really really hope she is pregnant because that would just entertain the shit out of me.

It is not only with great difficulty, but a truly heavy heart that I write these words today. You see, the most important thing in life is your family. There are days you love them, and others you don’t, but in the end they’re the people you always come home to. Sometimes it’s the family you’re born into and sometimes it’s the one you make for yourself. The people I have in my life are the ones who have been here so long that I no longer consider them friends, they are truly family. Their parents have long since come to realize I am fixture at their family functions and their kitchen table. I have come to consider their siblings as my own; their children my nieces and nephews. In my heart these people are as close to me as my own flesh and blood. It will always be this way.

What started as an injury sustained while active in the line of duty, spiraled out of control at the hands of doctors who were willing to continuously prescribe drugs and a man who was unable to take back his life. It was a bloody fight in which rehab was more than once a place of refuge. Family and friends watched as addiction slowly then suddenly took a once vibrant man from them.

When someone you love is in danger, out first natural instinct is to save them. Your heartbeat quickens. Your mind races and you act immediately. What can I do to save them? How can I help? What needs to be done? How do you save someone from themselves? The answer is; you can’t. You sit there, hands tied, and you watch as the world around them threatens to swallow them whole, and you pray that it doesn’t. Addiction is such an awful disease, it takes control of a person so fully and completely that there is nothing else in the World that matters. It is the air you breathe. It is your life. The only one that can save you is YOU.

Over the past year I have watched a Family try with every fiber in them to save their son and their brother. They wanted to save that man so he would go on to be that wonderful Father they knew he could be for his kids. Each and every time he nearly overdosed and died, I would silently pray, “Please, let this scare him enough to get clean. Please. Let this be the time.” There is nothing worse than knowing your love is not enough to save someone. There are so many laws that won’t allow you to intervene, stating, you can’t force a person into rehab. You can’t force a person to seek treatment. I am broken, and I am angry for his family and for his two little boys who will never get the chance to see him laugh again because you didn’t feel it was right to step in and say, you know what, he really needs to in rehab right now. Perhaps that would have been taking away his rights. But what about the rights of his two children to have a father who could watch them grow into adults? Didn’t they deserve that right? His addiction had altered his state of conscious to the point of him not making clear decisions, because for those of us who knew him, KNOW that he would have never wanted to leave those boys willingly.

So today I sit here, with such anger in my heart. I am angered at the Doctors who should have stopped writing prescriptions long ago. I want to be angry at him for not seeking help, but I’m not. I am angry at myself for not doing more. I am furious at the fragility of our human nature and how easy it is for us to falter and fall. As I prepare myself to bid him farewell, I have only one way in which I can honor him and that is through words. I can only hope my words find their way into the heart of another addict, perhaps enough to save them. Because Your Life is worth it.

Newborn relationships are just awful. There I said it. Why? Come on. They are all veritable mine fields peppered with little “hurt feelings” or “inappropriate comment”  bombs. Things like this are murder to a gal such as I, whose foot takes up permanent residence in her goddamned mouth. Sure you have the rose colored glasses on, and you are all lusty and sometimes happy. Yeah, that’s all great. Heck, Sometimes I am even temporarily in love with someone’s penis during these early courtship days. But these early days are filled with such uncertainty I spend the majority of the time just looking like a goddamn idiot. Which is something I HATE doing. That’s why I avoid karaoke and talking on my phone while on the train. You just don’t FUCKING DO IT.

As I try to navigate through these choppy new Dude waters without capsizing, I always seem to run into some manglacier and I sink faster than the fucking Titanic, I can never just roll smoothly along with the tide, no, no that would just be too easy, and who would want THAT? Mainly I have three key problems…

1. I am uninterested in any type of traditional situation.
I am 31 years old. I am NEVER going to give birth to a baby. Never ever. The idea of pushing a 7lb bundle of screaming joy out of my vagina has absolutely zero appeal to me. I do not want to give birth to your children. I don’t want to adopt them. I might want to hang out with them and paint with them. But there is no way in hell I want to suffer nine long hot months of sweating and vomiting and eating pickle-almond-peanut-butter-sandwiches or whatever it is you woman fill your troughs with when tiny footsteps are on the way. FUCK THAT.

Cohabitation does not seem at all thrilling to me. In fact I wonder where you might even put your shit. The idea is actually very boring to me. .  I’m not one of those girls who is mentally trying to fit you in between my dresser and the bookcase by the third date. i don’t give a shit where you sleep, just as long as it’s not my place for more than three nights in a row.

My heart doesn’t flutter at the thought of a joint checking account, nor do i want to stand in the middle of Whole Foods for an hour trying to remember which hummus dude likes and whether he’s only allergic to nuts or if ALL food in general is off the list, because he seems to complain about every single fucking thing he puts in his mouth. I will do it if I have to, but it doesn’t fulfill my life’s purpose to separate some asshole’s whites from his colors or rinse the scratchy little beard hairs down the drain because he was in a hurry this morning. These things are not on my top 100 things in life that I NEED to do.

2. I’m just selfish.
*SIGH* While this isn’t really true-true, it’s true enough when it comes to dudes. I’ve been dicked around (and not in the hot way) by enough assholes that by this point my tolerance level is next to nothing. I want what I want, when I want it, and if your ass doesn’t want to give it to me I will replace you. I refuse to eat even one more spoonful of shit from some goddamned dude. If your looking for some woman who will tolerate your bullshit you should have met me when I was nineteen and optimistic; because I’ve waited and I’ve been patient. What the fuck did it get me? Cheated on and lied to by some cocksucker who wasn’t worth a damn. I am serious as a heart attack. If you aren’t fucking nice to me and giving me what I fucking need (which includes sex, at the very least 3 times a week and maybe even dinner which YOU PAY FOR!!!!), you have to GO. OUT WITH YOU. All in all I would much rather be alone and make myself miserable than with someone and allow them the infinitely greater pleasure of making me miserable.

3. Fast Forward already!!
Let’s just skip the whole first year and get to the one year mark. I hate the whole get to know someone-tell-me-your-life-story-blah-blah-blah. Can we just drink a few beers, take a nap and wake up in love and be totally used to each others bullshit? I can handle most anything, really, but the figuring out what it is I have to learn to handle is goddamned exhausting. And it’s not just his shit. I am ten types of ridiculous, and I hate having to let teeny little bits of the crazy sneak out at a time so I don’t scare some poor gentleman off.

You want to know what new relationship stuff I’m good at? Phone sex. Dirty texting all the disgusting shit I want to do to you. Or have done to ME. I’m good at picking the restaurant and fucking you too early in the courtship. I’m good at doing shit in bed you’ve never done before, and reminding you where you parked immediately after your orgasm and telling you to have a good rest of the night. I’m good at making a dude laugh until he pees, which I might let him do on me if the mood is right. Joking. That’s on the no list.

Anyway. I kept saying I was going to go out and get myself a fancy new phone. Well guess what? I got a fancy new phone! I went and I flirted with the boys at the nearest Verizon and they gave it to me for free in exchange for adding thirty-seven years to my contract, one of my kidneys, and my first born. (suckers!) I can’t figure the thing out to save my stupid life, so give me a few days before you start expecting promptly returned phone calls and dirty text messages.

Especially if those text messages are asking if I’m taking so long to write back because I’m too busy talking to SOME DUDE while painting my nails. Pshaw!!

Backdoor moms rule.

Wow, first it’s leaked that she might have a sex tape and she denies it. Then it comes out that it wasn’t a sex tape but a fully staged porn movie with a porn actor, and she denies it. Then she admits to it and claims she did it so she could look back when she’s old and saggy at her once skinny sexy body. Ummmm and you needed to make a porn to do that? Yeah ok. Then she goes to Vivid WITH HER DAD AND HER DAUGHTER mind you to negotiate the sale and walks out with almost 1 Million Dollars. That’s not too shabby for someone who is only famous for getting knocked up at like 14 or whatever and exploiting her baby and herself on MTV because they chose her for basically being a moron and somewhat good looking. Well good for her for capitalizing on her 15 minutes of fame with the only talent she has, getting fucked. More power to you. Just don’t try to play us all for fools and deny that you even had sex on camera for money. Own that shit. Either way she’s still a whore. And YES I will absolutely be watching this video as soon as I can get my hands on it. Backdoor Teen Moms? Guess she had to one up Kim K and take it in the ass.

You know who I feel bad for? All those poor porn stars who have to take dick after dick after dick to struggle to make a living and along comes this no talent moron making a million bucks from a single session. Gotta be a slap in the face and make them wish they did things the right way and got knocked up young and on MTV.

And yes TMZ, Backdoor Moms DO rule!

Picture, if you will, a young man recently separated from his wife at just 29 years old with a 3 ½ year old daughter in tow. He realizes that his marriage is over and he is ready to move on. Great, you think. You’re young and on the prowl. You have the world at your fingertips. This should be a cakewalk!!! Now, picture this same young man terribly shy in social situations while having the body of an 80 year old and the sense of humor of a teenage boy giggling over his father’s Playboy stashed under the bed. What are his options?

You see, I wasn’t the most confident and engaging man in person with people who I don’t know. I have a sense of humor that takes easing into and I connect with a certain type of woman who can handle that. And I wasn’t the type of guy who could just go out and meet woman anywhere I went. I was shy and reserved: basically a big, fat pussy. So, what’s my best bet? Internet dating, yay!!!!! But I thought there was a stigma with online dating and had the mindset that it was for losers and people who are desperate. Which I was. So, ipso-facto I signed up! And I started talking to someone almost right away.

“Alright, Dave!!!! Our boy is going to be rocking out with his cock out!!!”

After several e-mails and phone calls we set up a date. And I made two of the biggest rookie mistakes right off the bat:

1. She had only one photo, and it was NOT a full body shot
2. I planned dinner and a movie for the first meet.

I sat in her parking lot waiting for her to come out. Christ, was I nervous. Look, I am just not good at dating to be honest. So this was a total mind fuck for me. And so I sat waiting, and watched all these people walk out the back door. “Is that her?” “Oh, GOD I hope that’s NOT her!!”, “Oh, is that her?”, “When the hell is she coming out?” “She better be great at giving head.”

“Huh, who’s the old broad that looks like Aunty Kathy walking towards my car? Oh, shit”

She got in the car and introduced herself, and off we went to dinner. I contemplated faking my own death so I could escape this nightmare. The whole ride there I noticed her very heavy Texas accent and the bridge idea turned into barreling head first into a brick wall going 150mph. Dinner wasn’t much better. She was so loud and obnoxious that the people around us were offering to build me that wall. The whole time I was mentally cursing my ex-wife for leaving me and putting me in this situation. I wanted to drive to her house and smack in the face with a wet mackerel just to feel better. And I still had the movie to get through.

We were an hour early for the movie, so we ended up walking around The Loop for a little while. She wanted to hold hands and stand close. All I kept doing was leaning far to the right like a tree bending in a hurricane, hoping the good Lord would strike me down in his mercy and end my pain. Only, God thinks I’m a dink and had no pity for my soul and I remained standing.

We sat through the movie and it was finally time to go home. It was late as we were stopped at a 4 way red light and there were no other cars around. Except for the cop car facing us from the other way. Suddenly, with a speed only seen at the Olympics, she lunged at me in the front seat and jammed her tongue in my mouth. I fucking freaked!!!! My arms were flailing like a trader on the New York stock exchange with my feet kicking up in the air like a turtle on his back. Oh, man and she was all about it, too. All I could think of was the cop seeing this and pulling me over, ripping me out of the car and arresting me for sexual assault. Can you imagine? My first date in 6 years and I get thrown in jail for rape over a woman I wouldn’t even bang if I had AIDS.

I finally broke free and begged her to stop. She sat back in her seat, sweat pouring off her head and panting with this huge grin on her face. I was getting scared. Was this woman going to tie me up and rail me with a 15” strap on while singing show tunes? I almost ditched the car right there and begged the cop to haul me in just to get away.

Finally we reached her place. I was almost out. All I needed was to say goodbye and my nightmare was over. I could go home and cry in my bed until the tears dried on my pitiful face, sticking me to the pillow as I fell asleep. All I had to do was……

“Would you like to come in and watch a movie?”….

Am I destroying every relationship or do I enjoy torturing myself?

Over brunch on Sunday, I had the privilege of enjoying an eye opening conversation with a fellow female that left me wondering; are we set out to doom our own relationships before they even start or are we just realists?

I believe first loves are always going to be the greatest in our hearts for a number of reasons; mainly, because they are so pure. We go into our first love experience with a pure heart. We enter into these great loves without reservations, expectations and belief that this love will last a lifetime. Naïve? I don’t believe so. Just because we have not been taught to fear the same things another have, does not in my book, classify us as naïve. Most of us leave these first loves with a broken heart and emotional baggage. Heartbreak is one of the worst pains one must endure in life. When someone dies, they leave your life; but not by choice. When we end a love affair it is because the one person no longer wants to be involved in that relationship. They are consciously abandoning us. THAT is hard to swallow. As we venture forth in life and navigate through relationships, we learn about who we are as an individual and who we are as a joint effort. Yet, I am beginning to wonder if, as humans we somewhere along the way decide we need to continually carry unneeded baggage into each and every new relationship we enter?

On Sunday, my fellow female was discussing the idea of moving in with a man. She talked about how, when she left her previous relationship, she left with nothing. She was forced to acquire new furniture and other household goods. She toyed with the idea of moving in with a man, stating they would use her things because they were nicer than his. They were in much better shape. She then went on to follow this statement with…

Interesting, I thought. I had a similar conversation with myself not too long ago. I was sitting in my living room, admiring my outstanding book collection when I thought to myself,

For a moment I sat there thinking about this great mass of books taking up all sources of free space in some ultra-modern space complete with a full scale studio and massive kitchen, when suddenly my thoughts got dark.

How is it we’ve met, fallen in love, moved in together and broken up BEFORE we have even moved past the text messaging phase of our relationships? Are we going into these new relationships in the worst possible way or are we going in with a suit of armor that we will most likely need in the end? I am left wondering; should I worry more about protecting my heart from a possible devastating blow or do I put down my sharpie marker now and risk my whole book collection on the notion of love? Someone once said, if you don’t risk everything, you risk even more. The stakes are high, but is it worth the gamble?

So better late than never right? I know I know I forgot about the Future Lower Back Problems post this week. I will try to make it up to you next week. For now, enjoy this small gallery of incredible humps courtesy of TheChive.com.

[View with PicLens]

Although I have the mind set that this is, of course the lowest form of dumpster-dive dating, I tried to convince myself, maybe there are some guys out there like me. Ones who live in small towns, working far too much to frequent the local dive bar in hopes of meeting a “good catch” over bottom shelf liquor and 80’s music blasting in the background. Maybe, I thought, I will meet my match! A man, who loves me as much as my cat does, but one who doesn’t pee on the floor. A man, who isn’t confused about his sexual identity, knows the difference between meat and meet and maybe even has a clean criminal record. With these bits of pollyannaism in the front of my mind I set forth into this online journey. To my surprise the site I ultimately decided to join (I choose the one that had yielded positive results for 3 friends) actually had a number of things I needed to fill out before my profile was visible and I became part of the online dating pool.

As I filled out the questions, clicked the little boxes, I said to myself, how easy it would be to become anyone I wanted to. Heck, I’ve always wanted to be a writer, is now the time? I lingered over the “profession” box. At the urging of my better self, I decided to keep it real. I filled out each and every section in as honest a manner as I could. I clicked the correct income, height and I even clicked very liberal. This, at the moment is true. Well, mostly anyway. Doing what we all do, I uploaded my best pictures. Pictures taken from the good angle or, perhaps, in the right light. Ones that portray me as witty, fun and gosh, golly, kinda cute. There I sat, looking over what I had written; the pictures I had choose to include and wondered to myself, is this even ME? Is this who I am or is this some slightly better version of my self? I shrugged and clicked the submit button. Officially I had ventured to the other side.

Within a short period of time I began receiving “winks” (online equivalent to the half smile across the room) and some emails. Before I even read the actual emails I do what any normal human would do. I immediately go and looked at their profile. Not to look at the pictures as most people would do. Looks generally mean little to me. In fact, there is a very good chance I will end up with a very “unattractive” man who is really smart and makes me laugh. On my scale of things that matter, looks fall somewhere between the car they drive and the amount of times they have had sex in the past month. I really don’t care. I venture over to their profile and before reading the “about me” section I scroll down to the “what they are looking for” area. This is where you clearly state what kind of women you want. Blonde hair, blue eyes, 5’4, slender, makes 50-100K a year. Etc. etc. I look and see if, I in fact fall into what this particular man is looking for. I mean, in all honesty, we KNOW what we like. That is WHY there are these little boxes. If you KNOW you don’t like dark hair, or you don’t want to get involved with a women with kids you check these little boxes. That’s why they are there. What I have found is that men don’t seem to read MY “about me” section. 99% of the time I do NOT match the criteria they are looking for. Obviously, I will not be responding to the individuals email. It would only be a waste of my time and his. Should I fall into the criteria, I then go forth and read the email. This is where I sit in disbelief. The things I read are beyond explainable. In fact, I sometimes think these are written by people who are just trying to be funny. I think to myself, there is no way men would actually write this as an attempt to find a date. It’s not possible. Then I think, wait. It IS possible. And that is EXACTLY why this guy is single…

I’m going to now introduce you to a couple of men who have taken the time to write to me. Perhaps, I am being “too picky” or even an out right bitch. I’m not sure. I will let you judge for yourself. Last night I received three emails from one man within one hour. This would normally be fine. IF I had responded to his emails in the first place, which I had not. Please meet “Mr. Racist-Far to the right Fascist.”…

Initially, he sent me a very simple email stating I was “smokin’ hot” and to “get at him” and ended with, “stop hanging out on wall street with those bums”

I did not respond. Within 12 minutes I received this follow-up message. This is copied. I did not alter any of this mans wording. As follows…

Obviously, I was in a great hurry to respond to this creeper. After reading this I raced to my closet to find my best NASCAR shirt, in hopes of impressing him. I have high hopes of finding love on the range while chewing tobacco and speaking in partial sentences. He continued to send another message going on to say, Hey, we could be friends. We could be AMERICANS together. I’ll keep that in mind. Moving on.

The next email comes from Mr. Super Masochist. He was not blatantly insane. He was clearly, not for me. In the following email, again provided in a cut/paste manner, I will provide you with my thought process as I was reading.

As one might guess, neither has merited a deep enough interest for me to want to take the lengthy steps of actually writing a return email or better yet, meeting them face to face. In reality, I would like to stay alive for a few more years. I would prefer my early demise not be that by the hand of a gun trotting lunatic looking to protect me from dancing monkeys or that of a sex slave trader form Canada.

Obviously the answer is speed dating. That’s next week…

Damn, talk about the one night stand from hell! But what the hell is this famous dude doing bringing some strange random chick back to HIS OWN HOUSE?!? What a fucking moron! Maybe he literally has like ZERO game and thinks he needs to seal the deal with his big ass mansion. Should have taken her to Chateau Marmont instead. Super classy. But still, he could have salvaged it even with bringing her home. He should have NEVER and I repeat NEVER let her sleep over his house. Fucking spooning and shit after sex with a one night stand can lead to instant Overly Attached One Night Stand like this chick did. Something about fucking cuddling that triggers the relationship switch in a chicks brain and makes them all crazy and shit. Had he never cuddled with her and confused her into thinking she was going to be Mrs Eddie Kaye Thomas he would have been home free. Make it just about the sex, be nice, give her cab fare and send her on her way before the chance of cuddling ever enters the conversation.

For a good 3 minutes I stare at my phone. The blue light blinks, indicating a new message. My first thought was, who’s been arrested? That is usually the case when it comes to late night messages. Like a good friend, I have pulled myself together on a number of occasions to pick up drunken friends from both bars and dates gone bad. On one occasion I have even went across state lines to retrieve a friend who had misplaced their keys only after going home with a handsome suburban cowboy who later turned out to be a women. I am a decent friend when it comes to helping out in such situations, heck; we all know I’ve needed to be rescued on more than one night in a Gin filled paradise. Sensing it might be something of imminent danger; I cleaned off my paint covered hands and opened the message.

Well. Obviously this was not the kind of message I was expecting, yet it might be a positive turn of events. But I knew that wasn’t the case, especially when it came from a number I didn’t recognize. In fact, it came from a number that was not programmed in my phone. I stood, thinking silently, who the Hell is this? Like any normal human, I began to rack my brain for some clue as to who this would be from. As I was just getting to the fine combing through my recent memory section of my brain, another message came through….

Now, you would think this would immediately ring a bell of recognition in my mind. How many men have I been with recently who get so drunk they can’t get it up? My mind begins to race toward clinging to something, anything that might clarify who this might be. But, truth be told, there was NO ONE in the near recent events of my life that might possibly fit into the drunk-can’t-get-it-up category. Since I turned 30, I have put a cap on my once wild ways. There have been no wild sexcapades, no drunk hook-ups, no sleeping with Ex’s who have moved on while I have, sadly not. In fact, I’m not even sexting men, almost boyfriends or partial strangers for fun when I’m bored. Since I am old and was anxious to return to my painting, I decided not to play the let-me-guess-who-it-is-by-asking-random-questions game. So I ask, “Who is this?”

Turns out it was a guy who I had briefly dated about a year and a half ago. Let me say that again. A YEAR AND A HALF AGO. He was fun enough; I liked drinking whiskey with him. Sometimes I even liked talking to him. He was a good dinner date and he knew enough about me that he wouldn’t cling to my side when I invited him to an art opening. Yet, he spent his waking hours recovering from the night before and once it hit noon he would start on his first cocktail. Fun, yes but not long term potential. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t drink everyday; I am able to contain myself, so I knew things wouldn’t go far. It didn’t take me long to realize he was a full fledged alcoholic, I caught on by the 2nd date when he mentioned how he preferred to drink over sex. I’ve had some spectacular drinks in my day, believe me, but I can’t say I’ve ever had one better than sex. When he told me that, I figured he was perhaps having some really bad sex or maybe he was going through a dry spell. After all he was recently divorced and over 40.

All of us look for different things in a relationship. Some of us value honesty, trust and good communication. I value understanding, space and sex. And not always in that order. When it comes to a relationship I need sex. Good sex and lots of it. When it eventually came down to sexy time with Mr. AA, it turns out he couldn’t get it up. After the first go at it, that didn’t result in any penetration, I said,” I will be fair. I’m an adult. I will give him another chance.” The second time didn’t yield any positive results, so I knew then and there, it wouldn’t work out. I had already known this but, this was the official end. I have plenty of other friends who I can have dinner and drinks with. I have enough FRIENDS, so I did what any normal gal would do. I stopped seeing him. I stopped talking to him. No more house visits, no phone calls and no txt messages. Until now.

There is a little rule that I thought most of us were aware of. It’s the 3 day rule. Now, I feel I shouldn’t have to write about this, but apparently, I must. It goes something like this. If someone has expressed an interested (real or imagined) and has given/received a number they have 3 days to call/txt/sext you. If at the end of 3 days there is no communication, the number is then deleted. There is no other way. I think I can speak for a large number of us, both male and female who have spent some time playing the excuse came. You know the game. It’s the one where we will make up various reasons as to why we haven’t heard from so-and-so. Maybe their grandmother is ill. They are stressed. They are busy dealing with entrapment issues with their baby momma/daddy. Then (some of us) wake up and see reality. They are just not into you. At this point many of us do what we should. We tap, tap, tap and delete said person from our phone history. Then there are those of us who keep the number in case there is a night in the near future where we are lonely, drunk and horny and hope that a casual “What are you up to?” will result in the best sex without strings of our lives. The near future does NOT exceed a 3 month gap. It just doesn’t.

Sex is a wonderful thing. It is something I enjoy. It’s something I am GOOD at. I’m the type that will do whatever you want, but I set limits. I will let you dress in drag and sing show tunes, but you’ve got exactly 30 minutes. I’m not kidding. I will time you. I will sext you while you’re in court because you need help getting through the day. But I will not, will NOT put up with a random sext from a guy who I haven’t spoke to in over a year. Come on now. If you want to contentiously send perverse messages, fine. But please be consistent. There is certain etiquette one should be aware of when it comes to booty calls and sexting. Know it. Use it. Otherwise you’re going to find yourself lonely one night masturbating to some late night cheerleading movie on Lifetime.

I’m not here to judge. We’ve all got a little bit of crazy going on, even if it’s deep down. Me? I’ve got my own Lady crazy. At this very moment I’m wearing a shirt that does not belong to me. I am guilty of STILL listening to a mix tape ( yes a mix TAPE) that was made for me somewhere back in the early 90’s at least once a week. And I am guilty of having soap in my bathroom that is the exact scent and brand that was introduced to my life by a man that has long since been deleted from my phone. I KNOW crazy behavior. However, I know how to keep it under wraps, mainly meaning: I know when to stop DWI-ing (dialing while intoxicated) and when to delete that Asshole from my contact list.

Real Talk time, boys and girls…

Q: I think that the girl I’ve been dating has “friend zoned” me, but I’m not sure. What are some signs?

Sarah: Is she fucking you? That’s usually a good indication. Especially if once upon a time your dick was gaining access to her vagina and is now, no longer allowed entry. Is she no longer baking you cookies? What about open mouth kissing? Come on, man. The signs are pretty clear. Unless you are just outright blind, I think you already KNOW the answer. The fact that you are even wondering this is a pretty good sign that you are already sitting on the bench. Listen here, Son, time to make a play on another woman. I suggest looking for one who puts out on a first date. I believe in micro-goals like this that are actually obtainable, that way you come out swinging! You’ll feel like a G-d damn WINNER.

Q:  I’ve been single for almost 2 years. I think I’m ready to get back into the dating game, but I’m not sure I want anything serious. Any suggestions on what type of guy I should date?

Sarah: A married one. HA! Joking. Well, not really. But you know that’s a messy deal, and I wouldn’t really suggest being a homewrecker, it’s a whorish thing to do. No one LIKES dating. It’s a pain in the ass. You have to go out dealing with all these asshats, listening to them talk about themselves for hours on end. That’s why I like going to therapy. It’s like going on a first date. Its like I’m a man on a first date, I get to sit and talk about myself for an hour, while the other person sits and pretends to care. It’s wonderful. The type of man I like to date when I’m not looking for anything serious is one with young children. Why? Because they are busy making lunches and taking their kids to see Princess’ on Ice or some crap like that. I get to paint in my studio while he’s playing with My Little Ponies in the living room like a good Father should. That shit is adorable. And I don’t have to worry about fucking those kids up because THEY AREN”T MINE!!!! Single fathers are awesome to date, they give you attention, but not TOO MUCH. They are prefect in the sense that they are all gentle in knowing how to brush the tangles out of your hair, but also know how to beat your sorry ass when needed be. What more do you need? Single Daddies rock.

Q:  Is there anyway you can tell if a girl is into anal sex by looking at her?

Sarah: First of all, this is just a fucking ridiculous question. What you are REALLY asking is…Is there anyway to tell if a girl looks “slutty” enough to take it in the ass just by looking at her. Well, plenty of woman look like whores, but I personally can’t pick a butt-slut out of a crowd. Now, I’m a total party in bed. Mainly because I’m old and that frees up a lot of inhibition- meaning I just don’t give a fuck. Granted I have my limits; nothing excruciatingly painful or extremely messy. Other than that? GAME ON. However, unless The Chief starts selling, I <3 ANAL!! (there’s an IDEA!) shirts, I’m thinking there really isn’t a “look” that says “hey, I take it up the ass and I LOVE it!” Men would fuck dogs in the ass if they weren’t afraid of the ASPCA showing up at their doors and dragging them off to wherever it was they threw that Mike Vic guy. Christ, 90% of the men I know don’t care if it’s your 1st time or your 100th time doing it, they are just over joyed at the fact that you are letting them take the back entrance to even take the time to think about the “slut” factor. So, the best I can tell you is, grow some balls and ask her!

Q:  How do I get my boyfriend to go down on my more often?

Sarah: It was recently brought to my attention that men think going down on a woman is like some kind of fucking REWARD. Like we EARNED it. Perhaps they think it’s like a prize in the cereal box. Fuck no, bro. It’s not like that. Oral sex is fucking FOREPLAY. That’s right. It goes with the whole package. It’s not some special treat, like a year end bonus. Don’t be giving me any of that, “Baby, I realllly like you because I just ate you out” Bullshit. Gee, thanks Son. Haven’t we all wanted a gift that was completely and totally useless even after we gave explicit fucking instructions? You want more oral sex? Ask him. Demand it. Silent mouths don’t get fed.

I planned on blogging about this when the story broke a day or two ago, but just didn’t get around to it. Damn day job getting in the way again of my being awesome. Anyway, so it first came out that Farrah apparently had a sex tape that was being “shopped around” and she was threatening to sue and denying etc. The usual. So then the guy from the sex tape, well known pornstar James Deen spoke to TMZ saying that it was a porn, not a sex tape. They aren’t dating and it was just a porn movie. So she was busted big time. So her time in the reality spotlight is fading after she spent a few years exploiting her daughter on MTV so she figures why not try to make some money by using the only talent she has, sex. But instead she gets busted and now she’s just a chick who got fucked on camera hoping to make some cash. But in her case, I don’t think she even got paid for it because it’s not going public, not unless she gets paid millions for it. I guess she figures Kim K got $5 mill for her sex tape, why can’t she? Only thing is, that wasn’t a staged porn. There’s a difference. No one is going to pay to see her fake chin, fake nose and fake tits get slammed and cum blasted by a porn star. She’s probably horrible in it too. I will just wait till it’s on YouPorn and check it out for free. She’s not THAT ugly. So just think, when her daughter is old enough, she will know just how much her mommy loves her and the things she did to make money and be famous. That kid has absolutely ZERO chance of NOT being a drug addict. 

Anyway, check her out in some staged bikini photos below and see what the money she made from her “reality” show bought her:

[View with PicLens]

‘My mum said “do you have to shock people like this”. Then she got used to it and thought that one day I’d finish it, and was patient, but now she’s getting nervous and wants me to stop and become “normal”.’ She received negative reactions from other people, too, especially on the internet: ‘People can be cruel depending on where you go. ’Some people say people like me should be sent to Russia or shot, but that’s just one person on the internet writing horrible stuff. Other people say it’s courageous and inspiring. So there are both sides.’ Mariam now travels with a circus as the bearded lady act, which she says she enjoys since she has studied acting in the past and also likes educating people about the issue. She said: ‘I want to give people the opportunity to talk to a bearded lady, because usually they are too scared in the street.’ Mariam, who has been single for a decade, also says she is looking for a relationship now that she is feeling sexy and more confident. She told Holly that even if she could she would not change her situation. ’I know myself more now,’ she said. ‘There are always people with a fetish who might only be attracted by the beard, but that is the same with lots of things, even if I were a blonde woman. ’I tried electrolysis three times but it just grew back – and now I’m happy with it. It is sometimes annoying when I go shopping but otherwise it has given me other opportunities. Dr Cooper explained that it is fairly common for women to have facial hair they do not want, but if it comes on suddenly – especially if accompanied by other symptoms such as weight gain and irregular periods – you should see your GP since it could be to do with excessive of androgen hormones.

AHHHHHHHH Get it off me!!!! I’m so fucking confused here. This has to be fake life right? First started reading this story about how right after she had a kid she started growing her beard and was basically knowing there was no way her husband was going to be sticking around after that shit. Like I could deal with a lot. Lose a leg? Yeah we can handle that, throw a fake leg on that stump. Lose fingers, Eh, use the other hand when you grab my package. But start growing a fucking beard that you have to pluck/shave every freaking day? I draw the line there. Her only chance of finding a relationship now is either with a woman who is a lesbian but is lying to herself and doesn’t want to admit she’s a lesbian, or a gay dude in the same situation. Gives them the plausible deniability. Good for her throwing her freak ass in a freak show though. That’s what I call making the best of a horrible life ending situation. Fuck that shit.

Authorities responded to the Wagoner County residence following a complaint for assault with a deadly weapon. Bauer was taken to hospital by ambulance and needed seven stitches for the cuts to his neck. But his injuries were not considered to be life threatening and he has since been released, authorities said. Handley said deputies met Bauer at the local hospital before he was sent home. Wheeler was taken to the Wagoner County jail, where she faces charges of assault with a deadly weapon. 

Don’t stick your dick in crazy guys. Although I’d be willing to bet this chick is wild in the sack. But just don’t do it. Or do it, then run. Run far and fast. Do NOT stick around.