Why Charles Manson’s Life is Probably Better Than Yours

I work two jobs; one full-time and one part-time. Up until this semester I was also enrolled full-time in school pursuing an AA-T in Sociology in the hopes of ultimately receiving my Bachelor’s. Just this past year I published an eBook and started my own business. I do all this in the hopes that at some point, I can be 100% self-sufficient and self-employed. Neither of these things have happened yet but I’d like to think as a good law abiding citizen, eventually one or both of these things will come to fruition.

Despite working copious hours a week I’m still unable to afford basic things like health care and a new pair of boots. I live by modest means; I reside with my cat in a studio, pay my bills, and rarely take a sick day. I work hard and don’t play nearly as hard as I used to. Why? Because I’m tired and broke.

I don’t date. Not because I don’t want to but because, frankly, I don’t have the time. It takes all my energy just to keep my hamster wheel from coming to an utter and complete stop. I take care of myself and for every three steps forward, I’m usually falling one step behind. It’s a nasty cycle but one I’ve been trying to break for years. As a dreamer and an optimist, I’ll never stop aiming for the stars.

But enough about me. My life really isn’t that bad. I have great tits.

Then Charles Manson got engaged. Somewhere an angel is weeping.

The sting of this man not only becoming engaged but being allowed to do so is offensive on several fronts. I had the same reaction when Honey Boo Boo’s mother married.

At this point, I’m not even going to delve into the mind of the 26 year old woman willing to tie the knot with a cult leader/murderer who finds swastikas appropriate forehead decoration. I’m afraid I don’t have the time or energy to rationalize such stupidity.

Here’s where I become frustrated with this bullshit. Chuck did a bad, bad thing. And he’s spent the majority of his life behind bars paying for it by making art, writing music, and apparently courting women. He doesn’t have to get up and go to work every day, he gets free medical, doesn’t have to pay taxes, and gets fed three meals a day. All while I pay for it by working two jobs. Basically, he’s living the life.

And now, he gets to marry. In a country where same-sex marriage is still debated and banned in over a dozen states, this convicted killer gets to take a bride.

Just let that sink in for a minute.

Posted in creepy old guy, douchebag, marriage | 1 Comment

The Top 10 World Cup 2014 Teams (according to moi)

Yesterday, while chillin’ with the fam for Father’s Day, my grandmother said, “I didn’t know you were into Soccer?”

To which I replied, “I’m not. I’m into Soccer players.”

That’s when I introduced her to my boyfriend, Benzema from France.

After that, she understood.

I realize there are several factors that should be taken into account when determining team rank, the least of which being aesthetics. However, were I to rank the World Cup 2014 teams by what I consider to be the most important aspects (ass and abs), the Top 10 would look something like this:

10.      Netherlands

9.        Bosnia

8.        Switzerland

7.        Ivory Coast

6.        Belgium

5.        U.S.A.

4.        Spain

3.        Italy

2.        France

1.        Portugal

If my calculations are correct, the epic finale will be between Cristiano Ronaldo and Karim Benzema. At which point, the game will end in a tie and both men will strip down to their skivvies and start doing push ups.


ESPN, watch out.

Posted in Hot guys, men | Tagged , , | 1 Comment

The Sex Files

For those of you living under a rock, or those who simply don’t care (myself included), Kim Kardashian and Kanye West tied the knot in what is undoubtedly the most important ceremony ever in the history of marital ceremonies. In what is also, I’m sure, a union meant to stand the test of time, the two most outstanding individuals to ever grace this universe pledged their undying love and devotion for all of eternity. Or until the next season of The Kardashians.

That being said, and despite their nauseating presence, Kim is hot. So hot, in fact, that I would probably have sex with her. I cannot wait for the KimYe sex tape to be accidentally spilled so that I can illegally download it and save it to My Favorites.

To continue on with my theme of creepy voyeurism, I’d like to share with you nine other couples I wouldn’t mind watching get busy.

Brad and Angelina – This is probably just a given. Two extremely good looking people doing the nasty. Yes, please.

Chris hemsworth and Elsa Pataky – Who wouldn’t want to watch Thor use his hammer?

Channing Tatum and Jenna Dewan Tatum – Magic Mike and the Mrs. can dance their way into my porn collection any day.

Will Smith and Jada Pinkett Smith – Rumor has it these two are in an open relationship and ever since Independence Day I’ve had a mean crush on Will’s perfect physique. I, Robot, hello.

Joe Manganiello and Anyone – Sorry, where was I again? Joe is the single reason I want to visit Italy.

Alexander Skarsgard and a Vampire – Mr. Skarsgard is hot but only when he’s sporting fangs. Otherwise, he’s just kind of dorky. But brooding and deadly? Ok.

  1. David and Victoria Beckham – David is hot, Victoria is ai’t. You know those two be fucking All. The. Time.

Adam Levine and Anne Vyalitsyna – Yes, I’m fully aware they aren’t a couple anymore but it was hard to deny the chemistry these two had. I was more upset about their backup than my own.

Idris Elba and Naiyana Garth – Idris is sexy. And he has an accent. I don’t really care who he’s doing the nasty with as long as he’s talking dirty and dropping his Rs.

So if anyone knows of any sex tapes being made by any of the above, be sure and let me know. I’m willing to pay top dollar.

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20 Paraphilias You Have Probably Never Heard Of

Paraphilia [par-uh-fil-ee-uh] noun – a condition characterized by abnormal sexual desires, typically involving extreme or dangerous activities.

Of course, that is an extremely oversimplified definition of something incredibly complex. We’ve all heard of the usual suspects: autoerotic asphyxiation, exhibitionism, foot fetishism, voyeurism…but have you heard of toxophilia? Read on and maybe learn a thing or two. You’ll thank me when the topic of arousal from archery comes up during Sunday night dinner with the fam.

Abasiophilia – People with impaired mobility. In other words, some folks are turned on by people who can’t run away.

Agalmatophilia – Statues, mannequins and immobility. Ever see the movie Mannequin? It was about a man who fell in love with a mannequin. At the time, the movie seemed romantic and endearing. Now, almost 30 years later, it just seems creepy.

Anililagnia – Attraction by young men to older women. Apparently, Cougar isn’t just a term, it’s a disorder.

Anthropophagy – Deriving pleasure from ingesting human flesh. Gives a whole new meaning to the term “eating someone out.”

Autoplushophilia – The image of one’s self in the form of a plush or anthropomorphized animal. I saw this movie once; it was called Werewolf in London.

Autovampirism – The image of one’s self in the form of a vampire. Involves ingesting or seeing one’s own blood. I wouldn’t mind being a vampire but mainly because it would stop the aging process.

Chremastistophilia – Being robbed or held up. Common gathering places include gas stations, 7-11s, and banks.

Coprophilia – Feces; also known as scat, scatophilia or fecophilia. The shit some people are into.

Emetophilia – vomit. For the man who gets a hard on every time a woman tells him he makes her sick.

Feederism – Erotic eating, feeding, and weight gain. I saw a women interviewed once who was paid to eat. She had a webcam set up in her house and men would pay just watch her stuff her face with hamburgers and French fries. How do I apply for that job?

Formicophilia – Being crawled on by bugs. Judging by some of the men I’ve dated, one might consider me to have a formicophilia.

Forniphilia – Turning a human being into a piece of furniture. My cat has forniphilia.

Liquidophilia – Immersing genitals in liquids. If a guy dips his dick in chocolate, does that count? Cause I’d totally buy that.

Mechanophilia – Cars or other machines; also “mechaphilia.” I think my dad has mechanophilia. That would certainly explain why he got along better with his car than my mother.

Menophilia – Menstruation. Uhm, yuck.

Navel fetishism – Sexual attraction to navels – either their own or someone else’s. Anyone care for a fuzzy navel?

Objectophilia – pronounced emotional desire towards specific inanimate objects. The BBC did a documentary on this disorder (which primarily affects women). One woman even married the Eiffel Tower. That cheating bastard. The tower, not the woman. Although, from what I understand, she did have a long term relationship with the Berlin Wall at the time. I wonder if she told Eiffel.

Oculolinctus – Licking the eyeballs. I get complimented on my eyes a lot, however, I’d probably draw the line at some guy licking them. Probably.

Sophophilia – Sexual arousal from learning. That’s like the best of both worlds! I only wish I could have sophophilia. It would certainly make going back to college in my 30s that much more enjoyable.

Vorarephilia – The idea of eating or being eaten by others; usually swallowed whole, in one piece. Fantasies include swimming with sharks and going to Jurassic Park.

I could go on and on but I have Datelineandbedtimeaphilia.

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7 Things I Would Rather Do Than Have Sex

YourTango recently published the article Better Than Sex: 9 Things People Would Rather Do Than Get Busy. To summarize, below were those nine things:

  1. Eat
  2. Eat bacon, specifically
  3. Use their smartphone
  4. Sleep
  5. Own a plasma TV
  6. Drink hot chocolate
  7. Masturbate
  8. Catch up on paperwork
  9. Reading a book

Reading through that list, a few of those were quite understandable. Bacon, hello! But honestly, there really isn’t a whole lot I’d rather do than perform the act of coitus. When done right, I’d take sex over hot chocolate any day.

However, with a hectic work schedule, bills to pay, and a desire to rule the world, my time has become precious and somewhat limited.  So were I to choose between the horizontal mambo and the following, I might pause for a moment to consider my options. Let me share with you a few things I might prefer over getting busy.

Get a foot rub. After a 12 hour day running around the office I would suck a dick just to have somebody pull out the body butter and give my feet a once over. As a matter of fact, last Friday, at the tail end of a 60 hour work week, I threw that out in passing. My manager thought I was joking. I wasn’t.

Sleep. Just like YourTango’s list, I would rather curl up in bed and pass out and for the same reasons listed above for wanting a foot rub. The sheer exhausting I feel after a long day’s work practically makes me comatose by the time I step foot inside my tiny apartment. When my alarm goes off in the morning, the first thing on my mind is going back to bed as soon as I get home from work.

Do nothing. The other night, I contemplated having a male friend over but then realized I didn’t feel like cleaning or shaving my legs. The exertion required to ready myself for 15 minutes of physical intimacy just wasn’t worth the time it would take for me to shove all my dirty clothes into the closet. Sorry, Patrick.

Watch Amy Shumer. That’s one funny bitch. Just today while shopping with my brother for kitty litter he compared me to her; the only difference being she’s actually funny. He and were never that close, anyway.

Masturbate. The only other thing on YourTango’s list I could agree with. Over the years, I’ve had a lot of practice playing with others and only a select few I’d like to play with again. I know what I want and I know how I like it. Also, masturbating is very selfish and I happen to be a very selfish person. I don’t have to worry about satisfying another person and I don’t have to share the attention. It’s like a threesome with two guys except I don’t have to worry about rug burn and lockjaw.  Or two guys.

Have somebody clean my apartment. If I had to give up sex for someone to clean my apartment I don’t think I’d even stop to contemplate my decision. I’d hand over the vacuum and Windex and go do something productive; like sleep.

That's the exact same look I have upon entering the makeup mecca

That’s the exact same look I have upon entering the makeup mecca

Sephora. I think this one is pretty self-explanatory. I spend so much money there the managers know me by name. You know that person who’s always asking a million questions and ends up in the makeup chair with “Sucker” written on the back? That’s me. Every. Fucking. Time. I’d sell a kidney to finance my Sephora shopping sprees if I thought my kidneys were still any good.

So while I would give up sex for some Urban Decay eye shadow, I most certainly would not give it up to catch up on paperwork or read a book. Because that would just be silly.

What would you give up?

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It’s Hard Out Here For a Pimp

With head bowed, my intention was to make a hasty retreat without actually making eye contact with anyone. If I could just get to my car without bringing attention to myself, I could make it home without being spotted in my oldest, formally known as white, sweatpants. I may also have been wearing a scrunchie to keep the stray, unwashed strands of frizzy hair out of my mascara-free eyes. Okay, I was, and it was red.

Yet, Murphy’s Law dictates that without fail, the moment you run out for a quick errand without any makeup on while wearing 15 year old cotton, will be the exact moment you run into someone you know, or Leonard DiCaprio. In other words, I should have known better than to stop for a pack of smokes, but I didn’t. There’s just no way of bringing sexy back when you haven’t showered in two days and you’re wearing attire even the Goodwill wouldn’t accept.

He reached the door before I did. He wasn’t Leonardo DeCaprio but he may as well have been. As he opened the door for me I instantly considered if it was too late to run and hide behind the stand promoting increased female arousal and male stamina. Would it have been any less mortifying had I made a mad dash to the erectile dysfunction aisle then to face the cutie while looking like Aileen Wournos? I’m guessing so, so on I went, cursing my decision not to just go home and bum a cigarette off my roommate when he wasn’t looking.

I was almost there. Six more steps and I would be safely inside my vehicle, never to step foot at that gas station again for fear that I might be recognized as the women in Homeless Couture.

“How are you?”

Shit. No such luck.

“I was at the light and saw you so I turned around to come say hi. You are very pretty. Could I get your number?”

Since when had the DMV begun issuing licenses to people with severe visual impairments?

Hurriedly, I thanked Mr. Cutie and parted with my digits. The longer we stood there making idle chit chat, the greater the odds of him noticing the whitehead on my chin and realizing the error of his ways.

He called, we talked, and we made plans to meet for lunch the next day. There was great satisfaction in knowing the next time I saw him I couldn’t possibly look any worse than I had at the gas station.

“So tell me a little more about yourself. What do you do for work?”

“I sell medical marijuana.”

Great. “So you’re a drug dealer.”

“No. I sell medical marijuana. I have a dispensary in -”

“You sell pot. That explains why you brought me to a Chinese buffet.”

This was going well. And may have explained, in part, why he had approached me in a gas station parking lot; he was high.

While I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of starting a relationship with a man who sold weed for a living, I could make due knowing he actually held a job that was legal – depending on whose interpretation you followed, be it State or Federal.

A few nights later we met again for dinner. The little druggie was starting to grow on me and aside from the whole selling pot thing, I was enjoying his company. If the time ever came to introduce him to my family, I could always say he was a pharmaceutical rep like my cousin’s husband.

For date #3 we decided to spend a quiet evening back at his place. He had his own condo and lived alone. By all appearances, the legal-ish distribution of marijuana had proven very lucrative for him. If he was as knowledgeable about the female form as he was about the logistics of drug dealing, I was in for a real treat.

“Why does your phone keep blowing up? Is there a sudden influx of people with insomnia and back pain this evening?”

“No, it’s my other business.”

“Other business? And what business might that be where your attention is needed at 11:30 on a Saturday night? I’m guessing it’s not a beauty supply.”

Shifting uncomfortably, “I also have an escort business.”

“You’re a pimp, too?!?”

“I’m not a pimp.”

“If they’re fucking and you’re taking half, you’re a pimp.”

Then it dawned on me:


“I’m not recruiting you. Although, if you wanted to make a little extra money…”

Just because Mr. Cutie wasn’t wearing a purple fedora and driving a white Cadillac didn’t make him any less of a pimp. He just had better game.

That’s when it hit me. I really had looked that bad that night at the gas station. He probably thought I was homeless and taking a little break from my corner on Santa Monica Blvd. And despite his generous offer, I decided not to “make a little extra money.” That’s what AVON is for.

Posted in Dating | Tagged | 4 Comments

5 Reasons Why Jamie Dornan Will Do Just Fine Playing Christian Grey

I hated Fifty Shades of Grey. I thought it was poorly written, redundant, and immature. If a book about S & M can be considered as such. I, like many others, read it out of curiosity, and because, to put it simply, I like me some erotica, here and there. Instead what I encountered was a book saturated with almost comical and childish sexual fantasy.

Needless to say, I’ll probably still go see the movie.

Sadly, I’ve heard far more criticism about the actor chosen to play the elusive, perfect, and drop dead gorgeous philanthropist then about the actual book (which sucked, btw, in case I hadn’t already mentioned that).

Originally cast was Charlie Hunnam, who I would have considered perfect for the role. Who, in actuality, would be perfect for any role. Ever.

Can't. Concentrate. Must turn away. What's my name?

Can’t. Concentrate. Must turn away. What’s my name?

But since Charlie bailed, we now have Jamie Dornan and below are five reasons why Jamie will do just fine playing Christian Grey:

Oh yeah, he's aight. I wouldn't kick him out of bed for eating crackers.

Oh yeah, he’s aight. I wouldn’t kick him out of bed for eating crackers.

You’re welcome.

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