Well Done Ladies. Kiss Has Never Looked Better. Happy Halloween.
PS. She gotta donk.
Since when is it acceptable to post awkward photos on social media of your pregnancy? I recently have seen entire photo albums of Facebook of people holding various fruits and vegetables to the side of the pregnant stomachs as if to prove to me just how large they are getting. Congrats, you are the size of a cantaloupe, now I need a new breakfast melon. Thanks. Even after your child is born. I do not want to see photos FROM THE DELIVERY ROOM OF YOUR CHILD COVERED IN PLACENTA (yes, that has happened), or videos of your kids dancing naked (especially if they are 12), or even to know how annoyed you are that you planned on going to the starbucks drive through but “NOOOO, CRANKY BABY DIDN’T LET THAT HAPPEN”. Back away from the computer. Put down your smart phone. I am also not “liking” your status that your kid is still sleeping.
I’m not sure if I am more scared of the gun or the stretch marks.
LIMITED “SORRY IM NOT SORRY” T-SHIRTS. Available for order. $19.99. More colors soon, but only doing limited run of the above design, that was produced in 2009 with only 100 made for the SINS Launch Party. EMAIL NOPENOTAPOLOGIZING (@) GMAIL DOT COM to reserve yours. Need your size, and how many requested. A GREAT GIFT FOR YOUR FRIENDS, FRATERNITIES AND SORORITIES, AND EX-LOVERS.
Women the world over are suffering from severe identity crisis and loss of mental capacity after it was announced that horoscopes would in fact be changing. Thanks to astronomers at the Minnesota Planetarium Society, we have now found that the Earth’s rotation has changed, and females the world over are left wondering “Who was I? Who have I been? I thought I was a virginal and earthy Virgo, but now I am a firey and masculine Leo? Hmmm….oh look, new shoes!” Your “sign” is determined by the position of the sun on the day you were born, so that means everything you thought you knew about yourself, and your horoscope is dead wrong. In fact, you have been faking it for years, just living the life of another sign. On a positive note, tattoo parlors across the country are preparing themselves for a rush of repeat business as drunk bar stars and floozies return to “re-do” the tattoo of the astrological sign their have on their shoulder blades.
I pray there are ass-less chaps to go with that hat.
This is the last person (?) to view my online dating profile. I certainly hope you are finding this funny, because my sense of self is being ripped to shreds.
Online dating is a little ridiculous…isn’t it? Is sending an email to someone you don’t know on an online dating site really any different than walking up to that person in a coffee shop, bar or park and handing them a note, then running away from them in hopes that they would sprint after you to tell you that they are interested? Pre-posterous, but mainly because running is exhausting.
October seems like the only appropriate time to sign up for an online dating site, mainly because they are filled with goblins, wenches, and headshots that make you scream “OH COME ON!”…even if you are attractive and you find yourself with one of these profiles, please be mindful of your username. “Trauma101”?! UNACCEPTABLE. I don’t care if you are a nurse, you sound like a train-wreck, and I refuse to watch the car crash. Oh, and “MissOhio24”, sweetheart you are not fooling a soul, and “Trish425” why the fuck are you searching for men within FOUR THOUSAND MILES of your hometown. You are out of your mind. Four thousand Miles, but congrats on that frequent flier account you just signed up for…freak. Hey, was it a good idea to have the majority of your photos be pictures of you with duck face? quack quack, probably not sweetheart, even if you are a “Chill* Girl”…what in the hell is the asterisk for? Please tell me you consider your about me a dissertation research paper with footnotes…wait you know how to do citation? Maybe I should give you a second chance Daffy Duck.
After much research, I found that the majority of women are looking for a date/significant other with a body type of “Athletic and Toned”. Thanks to the user friendly nature of the internet I did not have to join a gym, hire a trainer, or produce one once of sweat. Rather I just clicked “edit” and unchecked “Slender” and checked “Athletic and Toned”. BOOM. McDreamy. You want fries with me sweetheart?
CLICK HERE for the best fucking profile picture EVER for “NinaTransAM”. Her interests? “I love science, traveling and the universe because life’s a journey.” Excuse me while I gag myself with your telescope. By the way, she is searching for guys within ONE THOUSAND MILES of her hometown…sorry UFOS, earthlings only. So much for trans-universal travel in the Trans-Am, Nina. Lastly she is working on her masters degree in “Thermo-Fluids”….thats what she said.
Do women share one brain? Why does every single “about me” include “I love going out on the town with friends in cute dresses and having the time of our lives but at the same time I am just as content sitting on the couch watching a movie with a glass of wine”…either way, you are a boozehound. Or how about the classic “I’m not too crazy but can be if you let me. I’m quiet at first but open pretty quickly once I’m comfortable. I’m very driven and I’ve set goals for myself that I know will take time to fulfill, but hey, I’m fine with it. ” You are a walking contradiction, whats next? you are going to tell me you will let me take you out to dinner, but then if I let you you will puke it up? Great, let me just flush my debit card down the drain. My all time favorite “I am looking for someone who is serious, but doesn’t take someone too seriously”. Well, I am look for someone with a grasp on the english language that can complete a fucking sentence that makes sense and doesn’t leave me with a migraine feeling like I just got out of the octagon at a UFC fight.
I had a girl “wink” at me who appears to have some sort of syndrome. Not sure if its Downs or Sideways but one of her eyes is definitely not looking at the camera. At this point I am going to googling and searching “Become a Monk”
A social experiment, if you will. The other day I ordered business cards on Fed-Ex Kinkos website. They arrived on friday and they look like absolute shit. I called for a refund they basically told me I was a blind idiot. This got me thinking, is this what online dating is like? Only one way to find out—Match dot com profile established.
I have listed the following in my “Bio” Section: ”Interests: open bars, inviting dancefloors, pockets full of fake mustaches, no apologies, t shirts with embarassing pictures of friends, spin the bottle dance circle dance offs, leading crowds in the singing of the national anthem on July 4th, dressing up for non dress up holidays, awkward situations, cocktails and ponytails, spanking dance floor planks, 1 if by crown 2 if by ginger, tidal wave shots, napkin notes, and tuxedo fridays” There are two (2) black and white pictures of me in nice outfits, the others are of me in costume and unapologetic flare.
So far, in 24 hours my profile has been viewed 33 times by what appear to be goblins, wenchs, one frodo looking creature. I was “winked” at…does it get creepier? The “winker” may, or may not, have down syndrome. I paid for this?
I am planning to prepare a detailed, and time synchronized power point presentation about myself together to bring on 1st dates. I will sit at the table, gently open my laptop and play the laptop, potentially while doing an interpretive dance behind the table—but strictly for reasons of ambience, and bringing sexy back.
Earlier this week, I found myself working from the perils of South Beach in Miami, Florida. Woe is Me. “Pish Posh” you might be thinking. However, I will repeat myself yet again and encourage to stop thinking so much. Other than the Bang Bros, South Beach Sucks.
Allow me to introduce you how to not do South Beach. First of all, do not go there on a holiday weekend unless you enjoy riff raff, inconvenience and awkward situations. I found myself checking into my hotel on Columbus Day. Harmful enough of a holiday one would assume…how could celebrating a globe trotting, risk taking explorer, agile enough to find this great land we call America possibly go wrong? I will tell you how. Priceline and their outrageous offers. Priceline makes valued treasures mere current commodities.
Late in the afternoon on Columbus Day I called William Schatner and his friends at the Priceline, and asked for a hotel in downtown Miami..when they offered the Hotel Chelsea in the art deco section of South Beach I quickly grinned a smile, pumped a fist and gave them a proverbial handshake over the phone. South Beach for $60 a Night? Well friends, there is a reason that 1/2 Pound burgers at McDonalds are 4 dollars and why they are $20 at other establishments. No different than the price of lap-dances in Arkansas versus Las Vegas. It boils down to quality.
Upon checking into the Hotel Chelsea, Alfredo…the front desk hispanic gremlin, informed me that starting in 15 minutes they would be offering an open bar happy hour from 7 to 8PM. I literally high fived Alfredo. Not just because I enjoy open bars and inviting dance floors but because I also enjoy a nice plate of fettucine alfredo. I also high five people named gummybear, chicfila, and filet. Common Courtesy.
Well after a fancy shower in my hotel room and a sprucing up of attire, I galavanted down to the hotel bar, which is when the journey hit the skids. In a room of forty people, I was a minority. Being white, successful and dashingly handsome…this was a new feeling. A room of forty people, and I spot one other caucasian, across the bar. Amidst the Murrays Pomade and women wearing bikini tops as shirts, this white man gave me an approving head nod, as if to indicate that we were teammates, committed souls engaged in the same battle, warriors in battle. This would have been all well and fine, however he was wearing a euro bag on his shoulder. Or as we say in America, A man purse. This man was no teammate of mine.
To make matters worse, the once ambient soothing music played during the check in at the hotel had been replaced by what seemed to be the latest Rick Ross mixtape with lyrics as sharp as swords, that left me whispering to myself “you are going to do what to a bitch?” “oh thats vulgar” and “this is an angry man”. While dodging the offensive lyrical content pulsing through my eardrums and rapidly killing braincells, I excused myself out of the way from a woman who was well over 6 feet tall and in a hotel robe and slippers. Let that settle in for a second…A 6 foot tall Amazonian woman, at a hotel bar, in a robe and slippers belonging to the hotel.
Upon dodging Manute Bohls sister, I ran smack into another young lady who asked me to buy her soda water. Turns out “soda water” in South Beach means “lets go back to your room and you can pay me to service you”. Well, I declined. Not because I wasn’t interested but because I have a strict policy against paying for HIV. Upon turning her down she quickly said to me “Fuck you Snowflake”. At that point, I returned to my room, and weeped a quiet song.
Hoping the night was over, I was fortunate enough to have a loud neighbor and thin walls, a recipe for trouble. This woman really, and I mean really, wanted LaQwanda to shut her mouth. Or maybe she said Kuhnada…or maybe it was Canada? Which in that case I can definitely understand. Don’t care for Canucks much.
