Yes, I know... something is wrong with me...

I sometimes have to wonder whether or not if I actually do have a stage-5 clinger on my hands…or is this just some nightmare I’ve concocted in my head to avoid any level of commitment (with the opposite sex) yet again.

I have said it once….and I’ll sure as hell say it again…commitment makes me want to vomit. I just can’t jump on that commitment boat… it ‘s just to icky…

But I have to admit, my “love” life follows a very specific pattern:

Girl meets Boy. Boy is enchanted by the amount of racial slurs Girl is able to spew out in one hour. Girl is equally impressed by Boy constantly buying her drinks. Boy and Girl hook up. Girl says she only wants something casual. Boy agrees. Boy then says he can see this turning into a relationship. Girl excuses herself from the room. Boy reaches out constantly to Girl via text/phone calls/emoticons. Girl blatantly ignores texts/phone calls/emoticons. Boy is forced to give up. Girl is happy, once again.

There is something wrong with me and I wholeheartedly admit that. As soon as guys start saying shit like, “You’re so pretty”… “You’re so beautiful”… “I’m kind of kinky.” I bounce the fuck out of that situation. And I bounce the fuck out real quick.

It’s not that I see relationships as a bad thing…well actually that’s total horse shit…I definitely see them as a bad thing, for myself that is.

And don’t give me that, “You have to love yourself, before you can allow yourself to be loved” bullshit. Because believe me…I love myself… a lot. I think I’m awesome. And cute as a mother fucking button and quite honestly I don’t need a dude constantly telling me that.

…and seeing as I have the maturity level of a 5 year-old…a boy constantly telling you that you’re pretty is my definition of a “mature relationship.”

Will I ever grow up? Will I ever want to be “loved?” Did writing “loved” make me vomit?

Who knows…except for the last question…which was a resounding “yes.”

Don't Call Me Nice...

It never ceases to amaze me how little men actually listen. I’m sorry (straight) guys but it’s true. You don’t.

I get it. You are trying to get laid. It’s a dog eat dog world and we all are trying to make some meaning out of our lives (and potentially get laid).

But… OH. DEAR. GOD.

Don’t call me nice. Or sweet. Or fucking zany, for Christ’s sake.

Nice is not an adjective that is ever used to describe me. Ever. I’m a jackass. I do not hide this fact. My “jackassiness” is actually what usually gets me laid. No one likes nice girls anymore. They’re so fucking boring.

Listen to what I’m actually saying to you, gentlemen, before you just start throwing out such outlandish (and quite honestly, hurtful) adjectives.

Perfect example. Met a dude this weekend. Got to talking. Here’s just a snippet of the charming things I spewed out casually over a few Bud Lights:

“You smoke menthol lights? What, are you black?”

“Well maybe if Jews believed in Jesus you wouldn’t be in that mess, but you guys do get a shit ton more holidays than us so I guess it all evens out.”

“That whore sounds like a crazy ass bitch.”

“Catholics drink. Joke about abortions. And go to church twice a year. It’s awesome.”

“When did hand jobs become considered legal tender?”

…this guy called me nice…so yes, we can all safely assume that somebody wasn’t listening to a word I said…he was just starting at my boobs…which in his defense, are awesome.

Granted, that doesn’t mean this dude isn’t completely smitten with the thought of me…because he is…and now I’m dealing with a stage five clinger at the moment (more about that later).

But still, the point is…FUCKING LISTEN, gentlemen. Listen. And be a dick, I respond very well to dicks… probably cause I am one. Oh, and buy me a lot of beer…I respond very well to beer. And then you’ll probably get laid (by me at least).

My biggest fear...

My biggest fear if I ever become a successful stand-up comedian with my own television special (now this wouldn’t be for a long time seeing as I still need to do the whole “stand-up” part) is the inevitable fact that some guy I’ve screwed is going to be flipping through the channels, recognize my face/shrill voice/cankles, turn to the first person next to him, whether it a roommate/stranger/cellmate and say:

“Dude…fucked her.”

And now, it’s not really the guy I screwed I’m worried about because yeah, whatever, I made my bed now I have to lie in it. It’s the roommate’s/stranger’s/cellmate’s reaction I’m worried about.

“Gross….” Or “Nice…”

Look, cellmate 17389 you don’t know me. Maybe I chugged a few too many wine coolers that night, and Joey called me fat, okay? And I loved Joey and he didn’t love me back, and I was feeling chunky that night. And maybe, just maybe, your buddy, cellmate 71377 or as I like to call him, Jorge, told me I was a fine slice of white-heaven as he held my hair back while I vomited on his shoes.

Would you say no to that, cellmate 17389? Would you?!

Or maybe the guy I boned was way out of my league. It doesn’t matter that it’s taking him way tooooooooo long to figure out that simple math in his head, stranger who is at a loss for words. And maybe, just maybe, he likes high-fiving more than the average male. Whatever, he’s hot, dumb and was filled with the adequate amount of ruffies at the time. Sorry if I saw this golden opportunity and jumped on it… literally.

I’m an opportunist, not a thismightbewrongist.

Jeez….

The elephant in the room.

I want to talk about the blog-o-sphere for one hot sec. Can we just all truthfully admit for one fucking second what we are really doing on the Google-nets?

It cracks me up when people pretend like they aren’t trying to make a name for themselves with their blog….

You have a fucking blog. You’re either…

 A. Pregnant…and want to force all of society to be happy for your “blessing from God”…(we’re not, by the way).

B. Just recently watched “Julie and Julia” and thought, “Who doesn’t want another recipe blog…that could potentially land me a book deal? “

Or C. You are trying to get fucking famous…with your thought provoking, fucking thoughts (which aren’t, by the way).

Side note: I’m fucking drunk as I write this…so I apologize for all the typos/grammar mistakes/racial slurs.

Any who…I ’m not even going to pretend like I don’t fall into the latter. Of course, I’m trying to get fucking famous.

I want to write for a living…who doesn’t?! You make your own hours…you can drink constantly (on the job)…and people are forced to take your opinion “seriously” because your opinions obviously must have some merit since you are paid a salary to write about them.

And let’s not forget about the narcissism. If you have a blog…you are one narcissistic son of a bitch. Don’t even pretend like you’re not.

My ego is fucking huge…and all this blog does (especially recently) is perpetuate that situation.

I think I’m hilarious. No scratch that…I know I am hilarious. Why? Because I have a fucking blog.

It’s just like taking a creative writing class in college…you know you are a good writer…you just want to force 20+ people to be jealous of your “written gift.”

However, the blog-o-sphere leaves you in a very weird existence…seeing as there are a 1,000,000,000+  blogs on the internets as I type this sentence.

What makes you special? What makes me special? Nothing… unless you are me. Then you are fucking awesome.

And welcome to the never-ending narcissistic cycle of being a blog writer. Not like you didn’t already know this truth…just thought I’d make you (and myself) feel a little worse.

Happy blogging. 

so um...hypothetical question...

But not really.

In all seriousness...if I were to write a book. What would you guys...the "readers" want to read? Obviously the options are vast....Hellman's mayo...Michelob Ultra...sex...food...eating...eating while having sex...possible white trash cookbook...

Maybe my fat/gross/sexually awkward childhood? Or just the words cankles/queefs/smear?

You catch my drift. But I really want your guys input...cause if I do this... I'm doing it for you!

I'll be waiting.

...and possibly constipated.

Life lessons from Natalia...

          ·       Athletic shorts should only be worn while consuming fried Oreos/watching seasons 1-4 of Lost consecutively/picking up your prescription of Plan B at your local CVS.

          ·      Jeggings are a way of life and not a life choice.

          ·      Gilda Radner has been and will always be God.

          ·      If you can’t sexually harass them via text…it’s not worth it.

          ·      If a ridiculously hot guy is staring at you two seconds to long, it’s probably because you have food on your face…so seriously you do…you should probably go wipe that off now.

          ·      Work with kids…you’ll never want to have unprotected sex…ever.

          ·      Sometimes getting drunk is the only solution.

          ·      Judge no one…criticize everything…unless those bitches deserved to be judged…yeah that’s right whore…I’m talking about you.

          ·      People who hate on Hellman’s Mayo are not your friends.

          ·      Catholic guilt is a very powerful/scary/sexually crazed being.

          ·      Speaking of Catholic guilt…exorcisms are scary as shit.

          ·      Take Dayquil at night… trust me.

          ·      When your friend is being annoyingly drunk…just put a shot of Nyquil in their drink when they aren’t looking…they’ll be out for hours…or days.

          ·      Any time you accidently get too high and start seeing auras around the people you are hanging out with…trust the auras. Your inner psyche never lies.

          ·      Getting crapped on by a bird is not good luck.

          ·      Short shorts and strong legs will always be hot on a dude.

          ·       Nothing says, “I’ve got a big penis” like a 1980’s Tom Selleck ‘stache.

          ·      Emoticons via text/AIM/email is an automatic deal breaker.

          ·      Also…him being a total needy bitch is an automatic deal breaker.

          ·      Christ on a cracker…nutrionally delicious and blasphemous.

          ·      We are all the same…except some people are cooler… and hotter…and better at sex….

          ·      Remember that dude you had a crush on in high school? Yeah he still doesn’t know you exist…even if you are the first one to wish him happy birthday on facebook every year….LOVE ME GOD DAMNIT.

          ·      Exercising is horseshit.

          ·      Bitches that hate on Fleetwood Mac are not your friends.

       

          ·      Overly religious douche bags that defriend you on facebook are not your friends…no seriously…that’s what defriending means.

     

          ·      Dudes who say “Free Bird” should be the new national anthem… will be a dude you have sex with    and immediately regret it the next day.

     

           ·      Always invest in a shirt with a wolf on it.

           ·      Baby mallards are beyond cute.

     

           ·      Mother Nature can suck it…being it all arrogant and shit…stop blowing dust in my eyes, whore!

           ·  David Cross is doable…based on his beard alone.

...no seriously I'm going to be a crack whore.

Seeing as Halloween is a just around the corner and the whores are in search of their next big costumes without getting arrested for pulling tricks. I thought I’d save you all the hassle and give you my top picks for this year’s whore-ostumes.

     1.   Debbie Downer.

“Did you know that 95% of all Halloween candy is filled with rat poison and previously used hypodermic needles?”

     2. Theresa from The Housewives of New Jersey.

I think a gorilla suit will suffice for this one... she's just so goddamn hairy...

     3.  Kitty Sanchez from Arrested Development.

“Have we done hair up glasses off yet?”

     4.  Suze Orman.

I had a guy ask me to dress up like her for a sexual fantasy of his… I wish that wasn't true.

     5.   Snooki.

This one’s for the boys, actually.

6.  Judy from The Laurence Welk Show.

You’ll have to fend off the men with your baby hands.

7. Dora the Explorer.

I think we all knew she was a crack whore at heart...with those god damn orange shorts...go work at Hooter's already, for Christ's sake.

     8.   Octo-mom.

I think this one would be best if you staged the birth on the beer pong table.

     9.  Boobs.

Honestly, I don’t know how the fuck you’d come as a pair of boobs, but how fucking epic would that shit be?! Talk about cutting the middleman out, ladies.

10. (Insert drug of choice here) whore.

Cause let's be honest...every one loves a well timed crack joke....well a well timed crack joke...and boobs.

Chivalry is dead.

Do you get that? It’s fucking dead. Like it does not exist in our generation. Its definition on urbandictionary.com is an “Asian sexually transmitted disease”. People the age of 17-28 can’t even pronounce chivalry correctly…they get stuck on the second syllable…

“Shhe-viiiii…aw fuck it, I’m going to tell her to eat a dick and then she’ll totally want to bone.”

Side note: This is the real urbandictionary definition….” An idea developed first by Queen Eleanor of England. Basically, it encouraged gentlemanly behavior between knights, and proposed a system of courting ladies to gain their hearts instead of dragging them home by their hair (sarcasm)”

….Like I said…dead.

Side note, side note: If you tell her to eat a dick…she will probably want to bone.

This epiphany occurred to me just recently, when I randomly met a dude that was genuinely polite to me. 

That was it.  He was polite…which equaled me wanting to bone him…immediately…and let me be straight with you…I ooze ‘I’m probably going to be a dick to you’ …so being polite to me really takes some willpower…which makes you seem even hotter….so…um, hello! You are going to get laid, if you are polite to me.

 … now I’ll totally pretend like ‘I’m way too independent to give a shit that you knowingly opened a door for me…on purpose’ but in my head…I’m just picturing all the terrible terrible (terrible in a good way) things I’m going to do to you when we bone…based solely on the fact that you opened a door for me…on fucking purpose!

And yes, I know, I totally just said to be a dick in my previous post. But here’s the thing…being a dick is a short-term solution to a long-term problem. We (ladies) aren’t stupid, and if we are “laughing” at your dicky remarks…it’s probably because we can tell you’re easy and you are the closest guy to us at the moment…so…you’ll do.

Chivalry is like walking around a park with a huge ass puppy…I ain’t frontin’…bitches will be fightin’ to touch your poodle (man junk). And isn’t that all you want?  A bunch of ladies…fighting…in a sexual manner…for poodles (man junk)?

Exactly.

I think I’ve sufficiently made my point. Now go open a door, dick.

Top ten things that piss me off in the city....so far.

1. People who say, "Whole Foods changed my life."

...did it now? Well your life must have really sucked then...also...I may or may not have said this...I don't want to talk about it.

2. Assholes who write in Moleskin notebooks.

...you do realize that just because your "thoughts" are being put into a $30 dollar notebook does not make them any more interesting...so why don't you just go ahead and buy a 40 cents composition book (like myself) and stop being a little prissy ass bitch.

3. Models

....fuck off.

4. Ladies (of all ages) that run in only sport bras and jeggings.

...your fupa is showing...and so is your camel toe...just saying.

5. People who stare at me angrily when I blast Kesha "We are who we are" on my ipod...fuck off...she is a lyrical wordsmith, GOD DAMNIT!

6. Couples that hold each others pinkies.

...fuck off.

7. Hot guys that are obviously gay.

...I'm really starting to not like the male options for straight ladies over huuuurrrrr....this might become an issue...not like it wasn't an issue already...whatever...fuck off.

8. Rich high school girls.

...is it bad that I kind of wish that you all have STDs? ...Karma is going to get me for that later.

9. Hot dog/pretzel/ice cream stands.

...haha who the fuck am I kidding...I fucking love those diabetes food carts...now if they only would start selling wedding cake, too...

10. Hipster douches.

...mostly because I'm slowly turning into one... now should I get white girl bangs...or an ironic tattoo...or both?!

arrested development is coming back.

This is all I care about right now.