Personal Blog
My personal blog that I issue out monthly.. bimonthly.. ehh whenever
i feel like it monthly to anyone who wants to read them.
Take these as an appetizer 'till I write about my next date!
My personal blog that I issue out monthly.. bimonthly.. ehh whenever
i feel like it monthly to anyone who wants to read them.
Take these as an appetizer 'till I write about my next date!
Let's preface some things before we continue. To all the incels who say that women never like nice guys and only like hot nerds
like Clark Klint and that women hate real nerds and blah blah blah—WRONG! I hate all men. Equally.
But damn does mama love a nice pair of hunky man tits. She also loves a nice view of the moon on aisle 9 to 5, whenever Mr.Overworked and underpaid bends down wearing those tight-ass slacks. She also loves seeing the trailer park trash prince speed down the highway, who looked like he just stepped out the Ultraviolence Lana album. She also doesn't mind a nicely aged on the rocks, 65yr old man who's 4 more cigars away from lung cancer. An emo baddie wearing eyeliner thicker than my ass. And most importantly a Star Trek, D&D fanatic who's never-felt-the-touch-of-a-women geek who won't even look me in the eyes.
The point is, I don't have a type. Or rather, I have many and extremely varying types. Take this as a farewell warning to any future whiplashing events that may occur during my documentation.
haiii
Suddenly only a few months have passed since my last entry and yet it has felt like I've been stuck in an Ikea store after hours surviving off of nothing but meatballs, while being hunted by the store manager for 3 weeks.
New Year, new me. This year I will become an even hotter, sexcier more sinisterly evil version of myself. Not out of spite or relational issues, but simply, because I'm bored. Lying is in fact the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off. But so is jacking off.
In commemoration of the Year of the Snake, I will be getting my freak ON. Just kidding, I'm actually terrified of sex. Equally repulsed by it as I am feining for Pyramid Head to come out my closet to rip me in half coochie first and split my skull vertically....or something like that.
I truly believe every man would look a bagillion million times hotter as a woman and that's not because I'm a girl kisser. It's just the natural order of things. Everytime you go outside you're guaranteed to see at LEAST one beautiful gorgina woman. Flip side, you only see a decent looking man once a full moon. Maximum! That's it.
i wrote this before i decided to add commentary.. erm..? tit size in the chat?
Contrary to public opinion, I do like dating apps. Not for dating (obviously who in their right mind does??), but for entertainment. Sue me.
Why are you on a dating app if not to date!?
Simply so, fair point, but let me counterargue you this: If man only fire for warmth, then man have no s'mores.
If you only limit yourself to the confines of a single path, where is the adventure comrade?
Communication, yes, is important as I am always upfront of my intentions with chatting with strange men on the internet. However I have met the coolest, and equally disturbing, people on there. Most have which turned into some awesauce Instagram mutuals who periodically like my stories whenever I post a funny meme or a totally not unobtrusive thirst trap. Point is, if you come into any situation with strict expectations you're bound to fall short and settle. And I will never settle for mediocracy. I like dating apps because I like conversing with people who I wouldn't have the opportunity to do so in the first place. And also, I vowed to myself I would NEVER let my how did you guys meet?
story be the result of a freaking dating app. Call me a health conscious SAHM because I want ORGANIC. I'm a lover girl deep down in my blue balls. Papa loves his fanfics and shoujo manga okay?
Hinge will be my primary form of entertainment within these next few months. I'm brave enough to admit that Tinder scares me. Nobody on there is funny. No one there is original. It's like flipping through a bad Abercrombie magazine ad. I'm also brave enough to admit that most men are boring as fuck. Not just a Tinder thing, but universally. And before I hear a Not all men
—SHUT THE FUCK UP ONG I GET IT WE GET ITTTTTT. YOU'RE ALL UNIQUELY SPECIAL AND INTERESTING AND EVERYTHING YOU GUYS SAY IS SOOOO FUNNY AND BLAH BLAH BLAH—You guys are also annoying as FUCK. Damn. Almost lost my cool there. Nonetheless for everytime you meet a cool guy, there's an even cooler woman in his life whom he's curated his personality from. Whether intentionally or not.
Just like a real date, I prefer the process of getting ready rather than the actual date itself. Making a profile is one of my favorite things to do. I really think I just like customization. I think I spend more time curating my profile than actually spending the time to talk to people.
how to add a live chat box??? i want to see commentary
My attraction towards men is like how deer eat meat when it's convenient.
And right now I'm a sickle fawn who's starving.
I'm ovulating so badly that I feel like peeling back my skin down to the bone and gnaw on it like a rabid dog 'till it splinters in my throat.
I don't quite understand the yearn, or the feeling of wanting to be needed. To be seen as a necessity to someone feels like being forced into a dependency. I want to be wanted. Desired above someone's natural instinct. To be needed the same way your lungs need air to breathe? No! I want to be wanted so badly that the sheer thought consumes you. That your lungs burn and ache, pleading for air as you continuously hold your head below the surface of the pool because the water on your lips fill the missing weight of mine.
I don't want to be served on a silver platter for wine-tasting. I want to be selfishly eaten by a drunk.
Anyways I've been listening to a lot of Evanescence and been consuming an alarming amount of angst fics of ghost porn recently.
If you haven't caught on yet, I've been in a major writer's block. Supa mega eye roll and double vom.
Most of my best work has been sprouted through the dark, lonely ages of my great ovulated brain. In fact, everytime you read one of my passages like a feasible peasant reading the great king's announcement, I hope you understand that at the current times of writing I'm horned up to 110% of blue balled horsepower. Sorry. That was kind of grody. Actually no it wasn't you're just a freaking prudette.
In a weird, actually grody, realization that the only way to relieve the agonizing feeling of wanting to rub one out of my phatmon dick comes down to 3 options:
Formally, 8/10. A cult classic really. However I think I'm allergic to peanut butter in these recent years but I'm too poor to schedule an appointment to professionally verify with an allergist, so for now I'm avoiding the nut (technically legume) like the plague until then.
9/10. Great, but requires complete privacy and there's only so much my right hand man (or should I say left hand man in this case) can handle before dying on the frontlines (carpal tunnel).
10/10. I should really just invest in a journal shouldn't I? I think the aspect of concentration that writing tends to bring out of me and the inability to use both heads at the same time, works well.
Controversial opinion but I think more people should revert back to the dark ages of masturbation and start relying solely on imagination to get off. I feel men specifically have been too spoiled in the accessibility of beautiful women that they've forgotten the roots of a tasteful 70s bush porno mag. If I were president of the states, I would mandate that every man to take a 2 semester course of woman's studies and minor in cuntolgoy of sex work and subscribe to a videography of performative sex & the viewship of women in male lense media. Then I would castrate them all. But that second part is only bc I'm actually an evil dictator.
Is hentai worth it?
I'm patriotic in the way that every character that Jonah Scott voices, my cervix starts singing the pledge of allegiance to his parents like a prayer for going raw 31 years ago. Take me to Paris the way I want to be eiffel towered between Volt and Eddie, double decker sandwich style. Call me the cannibalistic catacombs of France the way I'm dying for Eddie to eat me out.
Let me continue off saying that I have yet to play this beautiful game firsthand. The rite of passage as a poor, broke, unemployed twenty year old is sitting alone in my room watching strangers through my uranium device live out my fantasy like a cuck.
Speaking of, my dear Hector the AC vent... oh where do I even start? My neck has a cramp and my face still has grill marks from frenching my air vents too hard. I want Hector in a 2013, dorked up awkward first date sitting on his couch and watching Warm Bodies for the first time, while we both try to ignore how insanely hot Nicholas Hoult playing a zombie was while he ate out Juliet's boyfriend's brains out kind of way. I want to proofread his fanfiction while he reenacts rule 34 on me. I want to play with his temp nozzle and make him call me the imposter the way I would kill it up in his vents. Too much?
Honorary mention to Doug, the personification of existential dread
. You either hate him or want him and I want to slap his bald head so hard that the vibrations of him falling to the floor and the sound of his massive mantits bouncing, shoot through my cooch so hard that all the water in my system niagara falls out of her. Wow.
Can't believe I just wrote that. Can't believe you just read that.
Doug, my dear misunderstood hunky boytoy. He's entirely too rude and absolutely too full of himself. Don't get it confused now, I'm already intolerable with the standard man IRL. If ANY male spoke to me in the same manner as Doug I think I'd actually have to kill him. Kidding. No I think my boygina would instantly shrivel up and fall off if I had to experience a man who thinks throwing insults is an acceptable way of flirting. I love Doug firstly, because well, he's fictional. Secondly, well, because he's a fucking beefcake and I wasn't breastfed as a baby. I need Doug in a way that's concerning to feminism because feminism is about equity & equality. And I don't want equity nor do I see Doug as my equal. He's nothing more than yummy eyecandy with a smart mouth that I would so gladly slap the shit of. I would go as far as to say Doug would be my perfect man if he did exist on the physical plane of our dimension as he'd let me become the most vile, perverted version of myself. There would finally be a man on planet earth to not only let me verbally degrade him and entertain a mutual humiliation of snarky commentary, but to nurture the foundation of mutual respect and trust that we have for each other. That's what makes Doug so appealing. His vulnerability to be multifaceted with being a freaking, annoying jerkhole as well as being a beautiful hunk.
However within the poor realities of life, no man can exceed that level of dimension. Doug is peak male visuals: paperwhite, buff and beefy like a Texas Roadhouse steak, bald like a pingpong ball and a face of that of an emoticon. No guys he's literally an emoticon.
Anyways, don't know where I was going with this really. Post nut clarity is falling short just like my flaccid hard-on and now I'm just spewing incoherentable nonsense.
Who's your favorite character from Date Everything!?
this is test 1 text.