Suicide...by Dick of course!

So disgruntled much? Yes! With nothing to drink! Whats a fella to do? It is gloomy as HELL outside and there is no one to hold at night! What a horrible fucking life must you be thinking? Well I completely agree, you know what I will say, contrary to what most women believe, we men do want someone to hold at night. Oh hell yea, sometimes I need to switch it up, ever so slightly cuz aint no ass like new ass (not as frequent as you would think), but I still want a wifey. Someone to come home to and just be like wuz good baby, and then we go to sleep in each others arms… you kno? See I can totally be a romantic, so don’t hate the playa hate the game. Romance is by FAR not my middle name, but I can do some sweet shit if I want to.

So right now I am at my boring as job, and I would LOVE to slit my wrist right now, all over the laptop and computer desk. And hopefully as my boss passes by - completely ignoring the pool of blood that is surrounding my dead carcass complete with wild jackals fighting over my remains – he will slip and fall, finally notice me, and put another stack of papers in the one clear spot there is and tell me to hand this project in ASAP by COB!....COB meaning 9 fucking thirty at night, even though the bitch knows that I am supposed to get off at 6 and you don’t pay me overtime mutha fucker.

So I have devised a plan, by next week Tuesday, I start my new job at some fucking hipster trendy ass college demographic catering to retail store. I want to make enough money to buy more drinks of course. Maybe by then I wont realize how truly fucked up my job is and stop threatening to commit suicide to my best friend, whom by now is just so damn tired of it she usually just says have another drink. That, and oh! silly me, she is suicidal also. In fact we usually spend our free time, drunk, going from party to party, talking about how horrible shits men are (black/latino in particular) then scurry home – usually to her house – to discuss new ways of committing suicide. Great… Well actually this is how the conversation transitions to suicide….”I just had sex on Monday and damn I am horny (of course its only Wednesday by now)” … “ Yea I had sex last week, it was wack I couldn’t even feel his twig stick, I cant stand him!” …. “Yea I wish we could just kill him and harvest his dick”…..”Oh fuck it they will never change I just want to die!” … “Me too! I want to commit suicide!” ….”Oh hell yea! Suicide by dick!”….so we eventually find someway to mix killing ourselves, others and sex…. you know the suicidal connoisseurs that we are. I mean, who could actually boast that skill!

If you have any more intriguing, titillating, exciting ways to end our pathetic lives, feel free to share after the jump! Smooches you bitch.

1

Unconditional Love? Love at first sight? Bah-hum bug to your momma.

Another question for those of you who have happened to venture onto my side of the Universe. First of all: I am so glad that you came. Please do come again. I promise milk, cookies, and hot java to pour down your crotch and a fiery death by Obea if you don’t!

But seriousness now: Do you believe in Unconditional love? -please google hi-five Unconditional love for me if you don’t – and do you guys believe in Love at First sight?

I am interested in hearing what you guys have to say on this manner. I am well aware that this is a post more along the serious line for me. But I am just inquisitive/curious. what can I say. The jury is still out for me though.

Get at me.

My boss is going to kill me. Where is the alcohol again?

So, I just did the dopiest stupidest thing ever known to mankind and I am really pissed off Bram Stoker Dracula type mad! Why the fuck did I not finish a project at work due to me talking/stalking my ex all day long? What the fuck is up with that. So in order to get off at a godly hour (meaning b4 11pm) and being the quintessential office-fuck-slave-kiss-ass that I am, I tell my boss that I am taking my laptop home and complete the project comfortable in the bathtub with a glass of Merlot. …. Well I left out the bathtub and glass or Merlot part. DUMB ASS! I left all of the necessary materials and vital information to complete said project at work! Stupid, Stupid, Stupid, so here I am with the 2000-pound computer lugging it all the fuck way home, and NO FUCKING WORK. Kill me, shoot me, maim, rape and beat me…but lawd oh lawdy lawdy lawd, don’t fire me. There are possible ways to beat this MAJOR setback though, it’s called “get my ass, crack butt early in the office and be at work before the first batch of coffee brews….oh I am just dying with excitement….

Ok in other news, I just started talking to the love of my life forever and ever this weekend. Its crazy, because we hate each other so much, we curse each other out, we call each other unspeakable names and deliberately bring up each others insecurities in hopes of making each other cry. It never works…mainly because I would never cry to his mutha fucking face; I prefer to do it on my own time, with a bottle of Bacardi. But that is not the point, so n e way. Last week Friday, I just so happened to come to work still drunk from the night b4 and extended the happy hour with half a pint of rum before work, juz to assure that I didn’t get the hangover thing.

*********Oh my god quick question tangent? Have you ever had coffee mixed with wine? Totally not a good idea! Of course I got the bright idea to mix two while drunk at work (lots of young twentysomethings have coffee with a shot of rum to start the day). but wine! I had the shits the next day like a fucking sewer-line, I completely couldn’t stomach anything (which would be excellent if I was trying out for America’s next top model) and I threw up everything, even if I swallowed my spit, a dry-binging purge would come. Note to kids: don’t try this at home. Note to hipsters: don’t try this at work. Note to everyone: Just don’t try it fucking anywhere ********

So, yea…back to the work and half a pint of rum thing, so I decide to be totally cool and nice and i.m him and tell him that I miss him. Next thing you know we are fucking that night. Ok, so um yea, it’s so different because I actually love him. And just cant stop. He is a mega total bitch, but that’s what I like about her. I am quite a promiscuous slut; I mean im young, and halfway attractive y not right? But I must tell you all the time when it comes to her this playa gets played, because I love him, and it just feels so got damn good to hold and make love to someone that you love and adore so much. So, I figure the only way to stop this is simply kill the bitch…. oops, I hope that previous admission doesn’t incriminate me in anyway. Because it would be really bad if someone actually DID kill her, and you guys go…oh my god, he totally entered that on his blog. We totally knew he was going to kill him and we didn’t alert the authorities….I am actually quite sure that A LOT of people would like to kill her…but I don’t think I would ever go to that extent….would I?

Everytime the Beat Drops

If I could, I would make the beat drop all over your ass’, just to let you guys know that is my new favorite song. Send me an email, let me know if you hate it and if I am the only one that completely wants the beat to drop on your honeysuckled head. Thank you. Beat drop.

Ask yourself...Am I an alcoholic?

Alright bitches so its 3:05, the day is winding down, I got three more hours left and DAMN I want a martini. Oh, Question: How many pints of alcohol do you have to drink a day before you are a certified alcoholic? Or, is it you become an alcoholic when it affects your behavioral patterns? I for one - am on a budget, so I usually drink two cheap pints of Georgi’s vodka everyday, thank you very much. The days of cheap vodka tasting like shit has long passed prepubescent pussy pals. Trust me. So I am not quite sure if it taste like bone-a-fid shit or am I just swallowing my saliva (which would taste like bone-a-fid shit from all the years of PARTY TIME). Anywayzz, all I know is that it helps me get through the day. Um um good.

But alas, this alcohol consumption thing is mos def affecting my mental capacity. I always find myself saying to my friends “I said that?” or “You moved to Baltimore last year.” or oh! “I did WHAT with that elephant?” Yea like crazy shit like that. Not even to mention while I write this entry my forehead is sweaty, and my body is embattled with the tingly itchy feeling that you get when you REALLY want something… Think crackheads scratching mercilessly at their necks while out in a 2 week old house robe that got the front all open (nasty ass!) with baby day-days flip flops on mumbling “who-let-the-dogs-out.” yea, kinda like that.

So I am not quite sure what to do. Also, I hate the fact that I have a virtual map in my head of all the nearest liquor stores within a three mile radius. PEOPLE! I can barely remember MY FUCKING NAME! But I sure as hell know where that damn liquor store is. Every time I go in the nice Asian man smiles a huge grin, as I count out more duckets to surrender to the Liquor god.” I don’t like that way he looks at me…. I cant tell if he wants my money, or some ass.

On that note, I will ttyl. I am going to get a damn drink.

Question....

Question….

Do any of you watch Flava of Love? If you do, log out of this website and hide your head in shame you dirty birdy. OK ok ……ok… u got it out of me. I watch it too…. Isn’t it the guiltiest pleasure that you have ever had? Kinda like going home with a fat chick after a night of boozing and drugging, fucking her brains out and then sneaking out when you wake up after your drunken stupor while she is ravaging the kitchen for the last package of twinkies? - ok… personal – but, yea, you get my drift. Flava of Love is bad…BAD you hear me.. Its for the debil. And you know how I feel about the debil. I mean, from the shitting on the floor incident (bitch you are grown ass woman why are you shitting on the floor?), to the fist-fight the first day over a bed. Its just pure television debauchery at its best. AND THIS IS JUST THE FIRST EPISODE PEOPLE!

I mean, I really don’t want to get into the social implications and inherent stereotypical bullshit its pandering too… because I heard it all before. And I don’t give a fuck! I love it.

We all know that reality shows are scripted, some of them cut and pasted as to bring more drama and over-all viewing pleasure. ok… I understand that, but the point and the matter is…dese bitches is plain old crazy. I mean, have you ever heard of a grown ass woman shitting on the floor? I think not! And THEN carrying some of it upstairs with her to deposit ever so daintily in the toilet receptacle. Oh I so think not!

Please feel free to leave your comments after the jump.

Its a BRAND new day BITCHES

Ok, so here we go. Lets start off with me being the quintessential disgruntled twenty something year old. What the fuck do I want to do in life? No idea, but its definitely not sitting in an office and pushing papers, while im’n and emailing my friends all the damn day long.

Oh I guess its only right that I inform you guys that this blog is going to be taking on a different spin from its previous entries…oh yea, before it was all about stimulating, intellectual bullshit that I basically had to write for my previous job – under threat of anal rape death - (as an analyst) for one of the premier strategic marketing firms in NYC. Pretty much HATED it…which brings my disgruntled ass to..

Here, where I currently work in Corporate Development as….DRUM ROLL PLEASE…. an analyst! Yep that’s right you guessed it. So as I pass the days away, confined to my small as a mouse’s’ hole room, staring at the screen while my eyes bleed tears of enslavement, researching boring ass bullshit that I could give a good got damn about, I will continue my blog crusade… TO TELL THE WHOLE WORLD!! Someone will save me from my modern day indentured servitude…and then I will be whisked away to a world of glamour and glitz where dancing girls perform for sixpence.

Yea, so anywayzz, I recently went on an interview for a MAJOR MUSIC LABEL…I want the job so bad I would drop kick my momma, and yours too. It would be as an assistant to a TOP-level executive. I would do anything for it…. think “Menace 11 Society” when the crack head asked Larenz Tate for some crack in exchange for a greasy ass cheeseburger… didn’t work, so he offered oral sex. Hell yea oral sex bitches! That don’t make me less of a man, at least I’ll be making lots of dough and hobnobbing with the stars… and what will you be doing again? Ok, think not. Nothing wrong with a little head to get the job done. No pun intended. So yea, if I hear back from them, I AM SURE..that this blog will be a run away hit, you love it, and so will the masses. I am thinking more like…what would happen if the “Devil Wears Prada,” assistant blogged. Or did she? Someone did…oh who gives a good fuck.

Give me a holler. I am trying to get this blog placed in Gawker! Now THAT’S fame bitches!!!!