The 'Chili with Rice' Project

Cool and Nonchalant

2012-02-07T23:22:00.001+01:00

My friend Muffin (you better remember her, she’s a sweetheart) has this little conviction based –mostly, but not entirely- on that excitement we developed by the time we become greedy bastards; the feeling you have the day before your birthday/Christmas/casual friday. She calls that anxiety of anticipation “the best part”; just like when you were about you unwrap your presents, when you had no idea what you were going to get, you just hoped for something awesome.

I mentioned that to British Man last night and, immediately, I was forced to spend 2 minutes and a half explaining myself (time we could have used discussing who was going to hang up first). I don’t agree with Muffin. The best part, for me, was playing with my new Barbie convertible. Howeeeeever, I do think there’s something really cool about anticipating… anything.

We wait impatiently for something we are getting in an hour, a day, a week… The amount of time doesn’t even matter, mainly because we just want to get it over with. There’s where I agree with Muffin (and with Schrödinger, I guess), we should appreciate the fuck out of that moment because, no matter what the gift turns out to be, the second before we were simply ecstatic.

A Horse is At Least Human for God’s Sake

2012-01-31T16:44:00.001+01:00

a.k.a British Man’s entry

*Any views or opinions expressed are solely those of the author and do not necessarily represent Lola Dahl’s… Howeeever, click here first<3

[you already know what to do...]No, I don't. Tell me. Plzkthx?
Pants, then trousers. There's a good chap.

What is your favorite thing about your body? Your least favorite?
My favourite thing about my body is the way it (along with just a few words, and perhaps a momentary touch with barely two fingertips) can make Lola slide off her seat. I have no least favourite thing: I am consistently awesome.
If you meant favourite part of my body, it's my hands; I can do all sorts of neat tricks with them.

What do you think about during sex?
How long it'll be before the neighbours inevitably call the police again.
hi, click click

What is your favorite sex position?
Doggystyle. Makes her easier to hold down.

How big is your, uh, ego? Cut or uncut? Clean shaven or wild? Pandas or platypuses? Beer or hard alcohol? Favourite brand of condoms? Apples or oranges? How many questions do I get to ask? Do you mind if I keep going?Favourite book series? Favorite quote? Last time you laughed? Last time you cried? What turns you on? What turns you off? What's your favourite curse word? Was that enough? Should I continue? I'll write more later...
Brobdingnagian. Uncut. Trimmed. Platypuses. Currently teetotal. Durex. Apples. As many as you like. Please do. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. "We can't stop here, this is bat country!". The last time I said something hilarious. The last time I said something poignant. Everything that isn't Megan Fox. Megan Fox. 'Megan Fox'. Almost. Oh god yes. Wait- where are you going..?
click!click!

How do you feel when you're with Lola? (And, not the answer that makes me laugh because you're such a pervert, the one that makes me say d'awwwww.)
Tingly.
here, boy, click!

How does it feel dating a sexy, pervy goddess like lola?
I often find myself feeling sad for everyone who isn't - in which case I usually cheer myself up by having sex with Lola.
click on me, babe

Where do babies come from?
Ask yer mum.

Why...so...british?(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YdTH-R5X3aA)
Because; vagina.
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WziyFLzOS_4)

Do you want vjagra? only $0.33! Call now! If it's your birthday, give her a party night!
Hello, I would be very intrested to purchasing your product!!! I would want to deposite $300,000.0 in you're account, if you would reply with your bank details I would make a transfer. I am looking forward to our partnership!!!!!
- Prince Ouannah Shagyermuhm

yellow Just a random yellow question yellow: What yellow is yellow your yellow favourite colour?
Yellow. Seriously.

Hi, do you consider having a threesome? What would your Spanish/Mexican girl would have to do for you to stop talking to her? Have you been mean to her? Would you ever consider marrying her? Would you adopt kids? Do you masturbate everyday? Do you like your penis? How dirty are you? I love your woman.. I love her boobs. Ok that's it :)
Hi, yes I often consider having a threesome - I might share my Lola with another girl someday, if she promises to play nice...
Duct-tape my mouth.
Does erotic physical punishment count as mean?
There aren't many things I wouldn't at least consider doing with her.
Not unless they were extremely quiet, inoffensive smelling, and trained to make excellent espresso.
Only on days of the week that end with a Y.
Not as much as Lola does.
When I go outside, I wear shoes to keep the ground clean.
I know you do.
Trust me; they're magnificent.
Thanks for playing :)

If you and Lola got married, what would your life together be like?
I like to think it would involve more pancakes.
here click

There are twelve monkehs after Lola; One has cheesy eyes, there's one with a tiny little dagger, then there's one which has an awful lot of books piled up next to him, and who wears sleazy glasses, then there's this monkeh with thick fur, and the red one, that is very loud. There's a very large monkey, the size of a Gorilla, or twice that maybe, and there's one with a sniper rifle. It seems to treat it like an ordinary banana though. Finally, there is one monkey that seemed to have drowned about a week ago, and there's another one without pupils in his eyes. And the last one, he doesn't have any teeth, but he whispers aloud all the time. The monkeys are in her room. What do you do?
More importantly; what happened to the other two monkeys?
click

The judge is about to speak up his verdict on your case. Your phone buzzes in your pocket. It is Lola. Do you take her?
Often. But I prefer to call it 'semi-consensual sex'.

It is almost Christmas. Your mailbox is littered with Christmas cards. After opening a few, you find a condom in it, opened but unused. Before you look at the card that comes with it, who do you assume is the sender?
Yer mum again, most likely.

Your mom baked a pie. Lola doesn't like it. You know your mom is sensitive about the situation. What do you say to your mom?
"Mum, I'd like you to meet Lola..."

It rains outside. Lola is out on her own. Do you worry?
Nah, she's waterproof.

You take a shower. Suddenly, the water goes cold. Someone must have opened a hot tap, somewhere in your house. Was it the cleaner, or was it Lola?
If she's dressed in her French maid outfit, it might technically have been both.

You buy a new car. Who picks the new color?
Me. If by new you mean old and by car you mean motorcycle. Racing green.

There is a weird smell in the basement. You hear footsteps. A man comes up, wearing stinky sneakers. At what time do you start thinking about Lola?
I don't have a basement, I'm British.
you know you want to click here.

A meteorite heads for Earth. It destroys mankind, except for you and Lola. How many years until we're at six billion people again?
In theory you'd need 16 breeding pairs at the very least to successfully renew the human species from scratch. I don't think Lola and I have quite that many distinct roleplay characters and sexy costumes.

You are left in a forest, on your own, without equipment, naked. There is no civilization anywhere within 50 years walking. How long till you can call Lola?
Depends what I feel like calling her.

You are having great sex. Where's Lola?
Under the other girl.

You are having great sex, with Lola. You feel Nad's urges coming through your own feelings, teeming with death and sorrow. Do you abort?
You make it sound like it's a simple feat, disengaging the drive shaft whilst simultaneously signaling the midget to turn off the Norwegian folktronica and get the alpaca back in it's cage. The last time I tried that, safety harness almost broke, and I got jam in my hair.
aaaand, click!

You look out the window, to see Lola waiting for the bus. A main walking his dog passes her. His dog pees against her boots. What do you do?
Most likely witness her mug the man, steal his dog, and inevitably dress it up in little hats.
one more click, come on

A man touches Lola. She hits him. He continues. You try to do something, but apparently it is only a video tape. You worry. An envelope folded into a paper plane hits you in the temple. You can't see where it came from. Your temple bleeds. Describe your state of being in 430 words.
Horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny horny and I could do with another cup of tea.
last click, really

Wide Awake

2012-01-19T20:17:00.001+01:00

I still have questions I’m pretty excited to answer, but, since I’m going through a mental breakdown, I need someone to entertain British Man (he’s adorable, just like a lost puppy), and to entertain you while I’m gone (you guys are adorable too).

There’s a whole new survey, on this link, just for him to answer questions or insults. Same stuff you know, anonymity/answers on a new entry/blah blah.. He’s damn entertaining, but I may not be completely objective, since I’m sleeping with him, so, find it out by yourselves.

Fifty Million Dead Cigars; Part 2

2012-01-11T17:30:00.001+01:00

Y U NO post updates? :)
I could come up with a lot of crap involving family, school work, a cryptic “personal issues” or a dog eating something… But I’d go with the honest “I just didn’t feel like it”.

Sexy Ones

where do you prefer to receive cum?
Oh, dear… I rewrote this answer way too many times already. Wherever I feel like it in the moment. I don’t know. Leave me alone! I don’t like questions in which I have to think.

Strangest thing that ever went in to your vagina?
I’m not that kind of girl… I’d say a tampon, dildo, or a funny man’s penis.

Do you swallow? In the case of a positive answer, do you do it because you like the taste of it or just because?
I do… Because is fucking sexy. I’d expand on that but it’s always hard to explain a simple turn on.

What's the most common mistake people make mid-sex that turns you off --- if people don't make mistakes in bed with you often, make one up.
I have to say that most simple mistakes can be easily forgiven if the guy is showing enthusiasm. The second I’d start feeling he’s not completely enjoying the show would be a big turn off.

what kind of underwear do you have for sexy time?
Underwear is expensive and I’m a student, I can’t go around buying panties for special use only. I just wear cute regular panties; he’s going to take them off anyway.

do you let guys cum in your mouth even if it is the first time you have sex with them?
It’s not a general rule I have… If I feel like it, I’d do it. If not… Well, you get the drift.

"...And then add two more I’ve never mentioned."
you really like talking about your sexlife, why you never wrote about these 2 guys?
They weren’t very pleasant experiences and I don’t enjoy talking about it.

Would you fuck a guy in the ass with a strap-on?
It’s not on my “FUCK NO!1” list, but it’s not really a turn on, either. If he wants me to do it, hell, I can try everything once.

Your threesome: two guys, two girls, one of each? Same for your foursome?
One of each; both paying attention to me because I’m a princess!
If I’m ever in a foursome, I’d like it to be with another couple without swinging… Maybe a make out with the other girl for the sake of giving a nice show.

have you ever done cosplay for sex? and if you did, what was your costume?
Cosplay means dressing up as an specific character, right? Not really, just as a catholic school girl.

How did the overly anticipated sex extravaganza meet your expectations?
The only way BritishMan wouldn’t meet my expectations is by not showing up… Or, you know, killing me or something freaky like that.

My Irrelevant Life

Going to Mexico any time soon, since not for the holidays?
This summer, hopefully.

The best present you have even received?
I thought about going for a really cute speech about the importance of the intention behind the gift…
Then, I remembered the amount of times, each and every member of my family was forced to watch Barbie shop at the supermarket: http://www.amazon.com/Barbie-7573-Supermarket-No/dp/B001CB3Z6M

The best present you have ever given?
My virtue, the rest of the guys have just been receiving sweaters…
See, this would be so much funny if there were Gilmore Girls fans amongst the audience.
*Credit for the joke

Favourite movie?
People are going to get tired of hearing me ramble about Titanic at some point.

Philosophy and Stuff

-The penis is...
a)a male sex organ
b)inverted pogo stick
c)inside __________
d)all of the above
a) a male sex organ :D…
What? It is! It is! We are all grown-ups here.

What is love?
Oh, baby, don’t hurt me. No more.

-Love is like a?
You know, I know someone upstairs who has the same existential problems you do.

Stealing my Spotlight

Do you mind that I hacked into your cybersex feed by BM? (honestly, not me, but someone likely did)
Did you, at least, jacked off to it? He’s good, isn’t he? <3

Can we cuddle for awhile?
Sure, sweetie <3 but it is just cuddles, ok? Don’t get any funny ideas.

Do you know where I can get porn featuring rough hard sex without the endless whipping and such? I simply want to see a girl get fucked hard while the guy is pulling on her hair and/or has a hand around his throat. Yet, that seems vry hard to find on the internet.
omg. We should start our own porn company; I have the same tragic problem… If it’s not the traditional in-out-done, I get purple breasts and pissing.

Misconception of what a question is

Random pic of one nude piece of your body, play the guess-the-part game.
:*

You didn't answer any of my questions (like I give a shit if you'll do it after your exams - that's just procrastinating procrastinating), use any of my blog topics, take up my offer of a British guy and your replies to my emails were one line and clearly a box ticking exercise.
SO SCREEEEEEEW YOU FUCKTOY....
I do have a question though; How the fuck can you get lost in Liverpool Street Station, or was that just a lie that you thought (correctly) may result in dick?
Ok, ok, I didn’t really get lost in the Liverpool Street Station; I got lost in London, but I assumed telling the poor guy I was inside a red telephone box would be too ambiguous… So we set an easy meeting point for me. I already knew I was going to get dick <3 there was no need to make up a lie.
Oh, also, this.

Side note on your answer to rimming: I don't need a girls tongue or fingers near my ass, neither do they need to lick my hairy flat nipples, but I'll do it to her in a heartbeat if I fell she'll enjoy it. Not all sex actions have to be reciprocated.
Aw <3 I like nice guys.
I do enjoy some kind of anal stimulation but, because of all the things that go on down there, I don’t find it particularly sexy; I’d keep it as impersonal as possible. Small toys, for example.

To be continued…

You Said You Were Sagittarius

2012-01-07T21:30:00.001+01:00

Last night, I had a dream we were inseparably entwined, like a piece of rope made out of two pieces of vine; held together; holding each other ^{with no one else in mind}, like two atoms in a molecule:
inseparably combined.
Then, ^{I woke from the dream} to realize I was alone… A tragic event, I must admit, but let's not be overblown.
I'm gonna try to write a love ~~song~~, ~~just a sad, pathetic moan.~~
Maybe I just need change.
Now I look at love_{like being stabbed in the heart;} you torture each other ^{from day to day} and then, one day, you part. Most of the time it's misery, but there's some joy at the start and, ^{for that}, I'd say…
~~It's worth it.~~
^{If love is just a game,} then, how come it is no fun?
I guess, maybe, it's possible, I might be playing it wrong.

2 Atoms In A Molecule
Noah & The Whale

Fifty Million Dead Cigars; Part 1

2011-12-18T20:46:00.001+01:00

Do you know that awkward moment when you picture your life with free time to smell the roses and shit, but then you remember you’re studying architecture so you have exams and projects keeping you from doing it?
I know you would.
To hell with it. I have a final on a couple of days but I wouldn’t be a proper college student if I wasn’t an expert on procrastination… Besides, it’s Materials of Construction, and I, seriously, would rather watch the paint dry than study its chemical components.

This are just half of the questions I received; I’ll answer the other half after my exam (yeah, I can’t be that big of a rebel, I still want to graduate). I decided to classify them into different subjects because of reasons.

Sexy Ones

How many different dicks have you ever had in your hands, in your mouth, in your pussy and in your ass?
I’ll give you an answer you won’t like: if you read my blog from front to back you can count them… And then add two more I’ve never mentioned.

Ever tried rimming?
Here’s something I learned from Sex and the City: I won’t let a guy lick my asshole since I don’t feel like doing that for him… It wouldn’t be fair.

do you practice cybersex? how many guys have seen you fapping on webcam?
You guys like magic number, huh? I did it several times, mostly out of curiosity… But I ended up dropping it because I didn’t get anything other than temporal adrenaline rush and realized you can’t trust most guys with that kind of stuff.
I am, however, doing it again… And it’s amazing <3 people don’t realize it takes certain maturity and skills to cybersex properly.

Dominant or submissive?
I love this question… I could write an entire entry on this.
I call British Man ‘Sir’ … And he calls me ‘his good little Fucktoy’ <3

Innie or outtie?
Innie and damn proud.

have you ever been groped in a crowded place?
No… But I should add that I avoid crowded places; people scare me.

~~te ha caido semen en los ojos? se te pusieron rojos? alguien lo noto?~~ Have you ever gotten cum in your eyes? Were they read? Did somebody notice?
Yes.. Hurt like a bitch. I didn’t even care they were red or if it stung; I could just think of how much it hurt every time I blinked.
My mom noticed, if I remember correctly… Of course, she didn’t jump into the conclusion that her sweet daughter had just given a blowjob.

My Irrelevant Life

... So I didn't realize that was a link until ... well, now. I thought British Man was from another forum you used to frequent and that you only had an online relationship. Are you saying y'all actually have a real relationship? *headasplode*
I’ll try making this story as short as possible: We started mailing each other irrelevant/stupid stuff which somehow turn into a “so… how’s your day?”. Then there were the midnight chats, which turn into videochats. I was planning a trip to London with my friends, I told him about it and we agreed to meet. He came to my rescue when I was lost at the Liverpool Station and a couple hours later he was fucking my brains out.
… That wasn’t even your question, right?
Hee.

How's school going? Been a while since you said anything about it.
Well… I just said something about it.

Favorite movie?
There are a bunch of movies I’ve loved… However, I have to pick Titanic just because it’s been around 10 years since I watched it for the first time, and still gets to me every time; if it’s not the “You Jump, I Jump”, it’s the “I’d rather be his whore than your wife”, or the band that sinks with the ship, or the old couple lying in bed… I JUST HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS, OK!?

Favorite book?
There isn’t one, either… Harry Potter grew with me; Sophie Kinsella makes me laugh; Animal Farm made history more fun than any of my teachers; I’m using Caulfield for my blog entries… I could keep going but the story doesn’t get more interesting.

What do you want for Christmas?
You. That’s all.

British, Australian, or Scottish accent?
London accent with a hint of American <3

Chili with Rice Blog...
a)a good blog
b)the best blog
None of the above; a pretty mediocre one. I don’t know why are you guys even reading… But for that, I thank you.

Philosophy and Stuff

so now u have a chance to change anything from the past ...
what will u change?
Have you seen that episode of The Simpsons when they reference the “Butterfly Effect” making Homer time travel and every time he made a silly little change it had huge repercussions?
Well, that’s basically it. I’m not proud of every decision I made, but, still, I wouldn’t change anything; I don’t want to mess with my present.

Who's on first?
This question had to be explained to me, but I figured it wouldn’t be “honest” to come up with a comeback after I did some research… So I’m going to go with my original answer: …huh?

So I've heard that it damages a girls well-being to be very sexually active with someone who they aren't (or won't be in the future) emotionally involved with. But your self-esteem seems just fine and you say you have lots of sex. What's right?
In a tragic way, I’m kind of proud of the reputation I have going on… However, in the name of honesty, I haven’t earn it. I’ve fooled around with guys, but the number reduces a freaking lot if you just count the ones I’ve had intercourse with… It’s even more pathetic if I mention that the number includes a guy I had a relationship with for 3 and a half years, and another dude I’m still involved with.
But don’t give up hope; there are “slutty” girls with wonderful self-image.

Can you write smart things again once you get past the "new BF oh god I'm-acting like I'm 15" phase? Thanks.
Honey… You have the wrong blog. I never wrote smart things :/

Stealing my Spotlight

Were these question enjoyable to read/ answer?
You were the one who asked me about the dominant or submissive. So, hell yeah.

On a scale of 1 - 10 how would you rate my question writing skills?
8 (so it keeps you motivated to try harder next time)

If I were to write you further questions how could they be improved?
In this case, sex is the answer.

Misconception of What a Question is

I don't have a question, but I wanted to thank you for introducing me to Tubegalore... it has revolutionized my masturbation. :-D
Now I’m curious on what kind of porn watcher you are… The traditional home made videos kind, or do you go for the 9 month pregnancy porn?
Whatever it is… Masturbate away, sweetie! <3

thanks a lot for posting your last entry, your lola dahl was scaring me now, yes, even though she is absurdly awesome and i so hopelessly wish she existed, it is so good to know you are not her.
And yes, whoever you are,lady,you are amazing.
You want her to exist but you’re glad she doesn’t? What an adorable little paradox you are <3
Thank you for the compliment.

You can still ask me questions on this link!

People Always Think Something’s All True

2011-12-04T23:25:00.001+01:00

Dear anonymous ~~dude/dudette~~ person:

You asked me if the British Man was more than a good fuck; if there was more to him other than his cock. Let me tell you I felt so tempted to answer with a “duh! He’s a great fuck” followed by a list which included his tongue and fingers… It just didn’t feel right. I, then, tried to keep my honest answer in a short format, but I rambled way too much (“really?” you ask in disbelief. “Swear to god” I answer back, “I even made a blog so I could ramble all I wanted.”) There was just so much I felt like clarifying, I decided to write a whole entry about it!! (Insert here a colon and a closed parenthesis)

Before we get to the main point, there are two things I need to state for the record. The first one is to ask all of my readers to never take anything that’s written in here way too seriously. Second is to inform you, all, that Lola Dahl, amongst the other characters I write about, do not exist… They are, simply, caricatures of real people.

For people who find Lola way too annoying and vulgar, at times, will be -I think- more pleased with my real, more reserved and shy self. Guys who have fallen in love with her oversexed personality would run away fast after noticing my extra set of hormones involve, also, a bunch of “let’s talk about our feelings for 2 hours while I cry… Why? Because I can, that’s why!”

The people I talk about go through the same process of censorship. The girl behind Muffin is not someone I constantly try to get off my back; the guy behind The Roommate is not a flawless Greek god; the guy behind Dude… Well… I’m sure there’s something more to him than being a really weird-but-not-in-the-cool-way person, I’ll leave it up to somebody else to find out…That’s not the point.

My blog goes through a whole deal of editing. I don’t talk about the bad, but I, also, don’t talk about the oh!-so good. Let’s put it this way: Lola Dahl is a mere outlet for me to exaggerate the irrelevant feelings I get on an also irrelevant day-to-day basis… Why? Because I can, that’s why.

Now, you see what I meant about not being able to keep my answer in a short format, huh? And I haven’t even started talking about the British Man.

The guy who inspired the British Man character is still a good fuck, yeah; he made me realize I’m even a bigger sex freak than I thought I was, but, even then… The things I like the most about him have nothing to do with sex. (Insert here a minus than and the number three).

If I had to keep my description about him short (which I do, I’m sorry, I’m sorry… I will!) he’s endlessly fascinating, witty and charming. You’d rather read a blog written by him, I swear… And, on top of all, a genuinely nice person. Give the guy some credit, he constantly has to endure hours of me crying for no real reason, and he does it like a champ. I like him… A hell of a lot. I really am sorry if it’s annoying, but not matter how hard I try, my blog will reflect the simple happiness I’m going through. Admit that it’s a little bit less annoying if I show that happiness divagating about his big cock and how well he can use it, than if I do it talking about his gorgeous smile.

Sincerely,
The girl who invented Lola Dahl

P.S. You can submit questions here and I promise you I will let Lola answer those. She’s so much better than me with this kind of stuff.

Be a Buddy

2011-11-26T00:04:00.001+01:00

Let’s be honest with each other for a second; you don’t care about me, not really… And that’s perfectly fine. This is purely entertainment, back and forth. I’m an exhibitionist, you’re a voyeur. We are each other’s “ok, one entry and then I start that thing I should really be doing but I’ve been avoiding all this time”, and I say… Let’s milk it!*

I already did this months ago (link, and another link!) and it was freaking fun. You ask and I write an entry answering everything. Conditions are still the same: there aren’t any; stupid, dirty or honest curiosity about that girl who enjoys narrating her daily life to complete strangers… Everything is allowed. It’s anonymous, you don’t have to write down a name, email or credit card number… So, go crazy.

Fill my askbox * so we can keep procrastinating together.

* Things that made me giggle because I’m twelve.

Truer Word Was Never Spoken

2011-11-19T13:08:00.001+01:00

Yup.

Are You Drunk?

2011-11-13T18:19:00.001+01:00

I’ve notice that one of the most popular topics of my blog is the simple and typical college social life. That’s awesome and perfectly understandable, but you should know that, normally, I don’t have any. Last year was a novelty; you know, first year out of my parents’ house = get home every weekend so drunk that chick from the Exorcist would be proud. The real Lola, the “I have experienced that already… Can we, please, move on?” Lola prefers going to the movies, eat junk food and, lately, masturbate furiously to the sound of a British accent.

This weekend I decided to do a little sacrifice, just for you, guys. I went through the tumultuous task of buying a pretty cocktail dress, doing my hair and serving myself a couple glasses of free sangria; all to be a convincing undercover reporter… Just for you, guys <3

I figured it would be a great night, amongst other people, the party included Grey, Dude, Muffin and Muffin Man… Characters, that by their own, have been interesting topics for my blog. All together should be amazing, right? RIGHT?

Well…

They probably were. I’m sure. Grey and Dude hooked up, and Muffin and her man had a pretty huge fight. Sadly, I wasn’t there to witness any of that, people tend to like their privacy for that kind of stuff. Go figure. Ok, don’t leave me yet, I managed to get a story, I swear!

There was a fifth blog character I wasn’t counting on, Cute Guy; he asked me to join him for a smoke, which is funny since I don’t smoke (…funny may not be the word) but, since the sangria effect was already vanishing and people were starting to be boring again, I figured there wouldn’t be much more different to have an uncomfortable conversation in or outside the bar. He’s, also, a friend, kinda… More of an acquaintance; we have shared a some ~~nice~~ cordial conversations, and so we were, back there… Until he decided to throw his cigarette away in a very dramatic way and pull me towards him. I’m giving you the chance to recreate the scene by handing you the script:

Girl
Ok, you don’t have the balls to be a bitch… Act cool!
(smiles)
No. I’m sorry, no.

Boy
(smiles back)
No?

Girl
Oh perfect, this guy thinks I’m playing hard to get. You try to be nice…
NO. Really, no.
(backs off after he still tries too give it a try)
I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gone out, I didn’t know you were going after this.

Boy
No. I wasn’t going after this, I just wanted to catch up with you… But why not?

Girl
Oh dear… I can’t believe I’m actually going to pull this one…
There’s someone else.

Boy
Is he here?

Girl
Uhm… Sure.
He means “here” in Europe, right?

Boy
Ok… Just one kiss

Girl
Great argument
NO! I’m really sorry, but I’m serious.

Boy
Well, then, just come here

Girl
(Doesn’t “come there”)

Boy
I’m not going to try to kiss you, I swear!
I’m sorry for putting you in an uncomfortable situation.

Girl
Don’t worry, it’s ok…
I should have known “join me for a cigarette” was code for “let’s make out in the parking lot”.

I’m really sorry for the kid, but I’m glad I have a story to tell.

Jesus As Our Buddy

2011-11-05T18:15:00.001+01:00

When You’re Dead, They Really Fix You Up

2011-10-29T23:35:00.001+02:00

This year, for Halloween, I was planning on being Dead Body #2, from Freddy vs. Jason… Then, I remember I’m way too cool for that shit.

I’m throwing my own party instead, with such a restrictive guest list it just includes me; going as an stressed architecture student (with bags under my eyes and everything!). Everyone is required to bring their own laptops with AutoCad installed and there will be coffee! Lots and lots of coffee! I will just go ahead and ruin the big surprise: British Man will come late at night, and show, all guest, his penis.

Anyway, Happy Halloween!

Captain of the Debating Team

2011-10-24T20:36:00.001+02:00

I’m interrupting my regularly scheduled bullshit for the following
^{Public Service Announcement:}

Raising your self-esteem by bringing down others’ is never cool.
True in everyway; I’m just focusing on two, which, to my disdain, are very in right now.

Big, Curvy Girls: I get it! You are the ones with the boobies and the booty. You are the ones who have the guys mentally masturbating to your cleavage; awesome. It would be politically incorrect for me to say my size 2 jeans are sexier-than-thou; pretty please, don’t say I have a little boy’s body because I don’t fill your double D’s.

Virginal Girls: You’re right, you won’t get STDs and ‘walks of shame’. Cool…! I can’t say I fully get it but you’re the ones abstaining from sex, so that’s fine. I won’t think of you when I’m asked to sacrifice someone in my Satanic Rites 101, as long as you hold yourself from throwing rocks at me (even if they are metaphorical rocks, I’m just trying to make a point here).

A ~~very wise~~ women once said “baby, I was born this way”, and, baby, truer word was never spoken: I inherit my small frame from my mother. My sexual appetite… I really don’t want to know where that came from, to tell you the truth (I’m here, so, I’m guessing she’s not repulsed by the idea), but that’s not the point. I don’t use sex to make people like me or get favors done; I simply love the tingly sensation, and, by tingly sensation, I mean cock.

To both of you: Fuck it. I won’t eat a fucking cheeseburger*, but I will swallow cum. Lots of it.

Conclusion:
I’m an “anorexic slut” and I love it.

^{*I do love cheeseburgers. Again, I was just trying to make a point.}

Wash Your Mouth Out with Soap

2011-10-20T15:35:00.001+02:00

Guys that Never Read Books

2011-10-16T21:37:00.001+02:00

Main reason why you should never read
“He’s Just Not That Into You”:

What you’ll read
(real excepts)

^{An excuse is a polite rejection.} If he wants to find you, he will. If he’s not calling you, it’s because you’re not on his mind. “I don’t want to be in a serious relationship” truly means “I don’t want to be in a serious relationship with you.” _{Drinking and drug use are not a path to one’s innermost feelings.}Don’t give him the chance to reject you again. He’s married! ^{There’s never a reason to shout at someone unless they are in imminent danger.} ~~Cut him off; let him miss you.~~

What you’ll deduce from it

What the fuck am I doing? Of course he doesn’t really like me… I’m just a warm hole for him to put his dick in! I deserve someone who doesn’t make me wait one whole fucking hour for a text…!
I can’t even go crying with my friends. Those idiots are even worse. They’re always talking about “going out for drinks”… THOSE ARE NOT FUCKING PATHS FOR ONE’S INNERMOST FUCKING FEEELINGS!
Forget about telling my brother, either; he already shouted at me, 12 years ago, when I broke his walkman… He has probably been saving up his anger, all this time, and ends up hitting me… I’m pretty sure everyone will understand if I accuse him of domestic violence before anything else happens.
You know who won’t understand, though? My father. He won’t understand because he’s married. Married! There’s a whole chapter about married men here and they’re not good people.
Why is this happening to me? I’M A GOOD PERSON!

"We are dying from overthinking. We are slowly killing ourselves by thinking about everything. Think. Think. Think. You can never trust the human mind anyway. It's a death trap."
-Anthony Hopkins

Lousy Childhood

2011-10-06T21:18:00.001+02:00

Flunking the Hell Out of Here

2011-09-27T23:08:00.001+02:00

Always Kissing Each Other a Lot in Public

2011-09-20T13:13:00.001+02:00

Dear 15 year-old me:

Hi! This is a future and sexy version of you talking… Because, yeah! You’re not going to be so funny looking for that long; though, I shouldn’t have said that, you’re meant to develop a sense of humor to persuade people into liking us.

There are a lot things I could say about your questionable taste on clothes, hair, men, eyeliner and clothes, again (…sorry) but 1) you’re a moody teenager who already knows everything!1! and 2) I’m my awesome self thanks to your mistakes, so I kinda maybe need you to mess up ~~okthanksbye~~.

Of course, I wouldn’t be contacting you if I wasn’t planning on being remotely helpful. Here’s my only piece of advice:

Stop crying about him. Really. Just stop. Yes, we are talking about the same dude. Now, suck it up, it’s not that bad and… I really shouldn’t be saying this… You’re totally going to bang a British guy, a hot one, a nice one, a really cool one… I know, right? He’s the kind of guy who’ll get you to dance in the middle of a store, but, also, the kind of guy who does this awesome thing with his- you know what? You’re too young for this. But, now that you know about it, you have to promise me to be cool, ok? BE COOL!

My point is: you spend too much time whining and complaining. Is not as cool as you think to be unhappy. The sooner you learn that really good things happen when you, occasionally, get that stick out of your ass, the better. Things are just as bad as you made them out to be.

Extra helpful tips, since I’m effing nice.

A Krispy Kreme doughnut is the fastest way to temporarily fill that little void in your heart.
In case of a hickey: Just wear your hair down.

Sincerely,
21 year-old you

P.S. I’m sorry to keep bothering you, just one quick favor: In a few years you’re getting a puppy; could you be a darling and keep your closet door closed while she’s going through that adorable chewing phase? We really loved those shoes. Thank you.

Nothing

2011-09-02T07:53:00.001+02:00

I hate…

Twilight
because I have heard a grown woman say “omg! If I meet an Edward, I will dump my fiancée lol!1”

Apple
because if I ever get another superior touched-by-the-angel-of-technology kind of look, I will start burning Starbucks down, where all the kids who are willing to overpay for appearance hang out.

Harry Potter
because… Ok, I don’t really hate Harry Potter… But I might if this MY CHILDHOOD IS OFFICIALLY OVER trend doesn’t fade out, soon. You’re twenty-fucking-five, for crying out loud, get a grip!

That’s right, kids… I hate products based on their fanbases; I hate fanbases because they full of… fans; and fans are obsessed with/have a passion for something, which ^{(and this is when it gets dramatic.. Run! RUN, I TELL YOU!)}:

I DO NOT.

There’s not a product/idea/goal that gets me off my lazy (but perky) ass; for that same reason, I feel I have no path in life… I’m studying architecture because I figured it’s nice and cool to say I’m someone who’s creative, smart and likes hanging out with gay dudes, but I’m not entirely sure I want to be an architect.

I don’t feel a real big passion for architecture, or drawing, or math, or physics, or art… Or nothing.

~~I love sex. Man… Do I love sex. That doesn’t count, though; next thing I know I will be joining a fan club for people who like to turning oxygen into carbon dioxide.~~

I’m going nowhere (and not even very fast to, at least, make it sound cool and cliché)… I am enjoying the ride – a freaking lot – which, I feel is worth mentioning.

Once I got over the typical “I hate everything” teen phase, I can say I have been very happy with my lousy irrelevant existence… So, if worse comes to worst and I don’t get to be one of those people who do what they love, I’d happily settle for loving what I do.

Skinny Legs

2011-08-24T02:28:00.001+02:00

Still on my summer break, I have invested a lot of my precious youth on Tumblr – also known as, blog wasteland; where all the internet jokes come to die. I’m not surprised of my newly found addiction, since it fills those lazy afternoons with Harry Potter jokes, porn and puppies; also it’s the only place I can, accurately, say “I’m following Joseph Gordon-Lewitt”… Which, not trying to sound pathetic here, it’s all I ask for in life… Of course, behind every great site, there are a bunch of kids trying to fuck it up. In this case, the “Special Snowflake” kinda gal has made Tumblr, her bitch.

I know the special snowflake syndrome, I went through it when I was 14 (and I mastered it in black eyeliner and Hot Topic clothing)… But the hipster revolution has only made it worse. You know, the trend that has made people my age, and older, desperate to stand out in the most absurd and irrelevant ways… Like listening to underground music. Shit, most of the songs my grandfather listens to are unknown and he has never been a dick about it.

Teenage girls, really embrace this fashion because they are looking for a way to define themselves… And what a charming way they found:

I’m not like other girls.

Well, that’s nice.

Do they fight crime at night or have chocolate milk coming out of their nipples? Nah. This is, generally, what distinguish those mystic creatures:

Hi! I love videogames! I’m not obsessed with clothes, I only own a pair of shoes and I, rarely, wear make up. I don’t count calories, actually, I love cheese burgers! I’m the complete opposite of any kind of dull feminine stereotype you can think of…! So, to make a long story short, I’d play Halo with you, and let you touch my boobs! And make you a sandwich…
JUST LOVE ME, PLEASE!

Whatever.

At their given time, they will learn, just like I did, that there’s no such thing as “your typical kind of girl”. If there is, a pair of converse, The Smiths discography or, even, a taste for anal, won’t suffice to sent them apart from the rest.

Seductive As Hell

2011-08-16T00:57:00.001+02:00

Sooner or later, I will confess my long time wish of watching
“The Attack of the Killer Tomatoes”.

Wrong Answer
”Good for you”
”Really? Isn’t awful?”
”How could a tomato kill a person? Is it, like, about mortal diarrhea?”
”I’m sorry, what? I was too busy being boring”

Right Answer
Enthusiasm and a link to watch it online in my inbox

Speak in a British accent.
Be awesome.

Make Her Suffocate

2011-07-31T08:58:00.001+02:00

You could say I’m going through a “writer’s block”, but that would be unfair; I’m more of an “unprofessional ranter” than a writer.

When you’re a college student, there’s not a lot to rant about when you’re allowed to wake up at 12pm. I could ramble about how much I like a guy, right now, and how he makes my panties tingle… It’d be the equivalent of watching me giggle for half an hour; the first two seconds you’d think it’s all cute and adorable, but, later, you’d just want to punch me on my fucking face.

This is what I’m going to do; I don’t know how it’s going to turn out. If you have a suggestion, idea, subject or question I could turn into a blog entry, you’re more than welcome to tell me about it:

Here
(it’s all big and shiny because I underestimate people’s abilities to click on a link)

I can’t promise I will follow every suggestion (if I get any… Then it wouldn’t be embarrassing) because I’m not witty enough to write a lot about subjects like rhinos, for example, and you people deserve more than washed up “they are horny!” jokes.

I’m going to be honest with you: I, seriously, see no reason why would somebody want to read about the point of view of a girl who, more than once, has lifted up her dog pretending it’s Simba from The Lion King… I just figure there must be someone else, out there, who is just as bored as I am.

A Very Good Conversationalist

2011-07-23T00:38:00.001+02:00

This is why you, guys, don’t want me to videoblog… Not really.

From now, and until further notice, this blog is a tribute to my dogs.

Perverts and Morons

2011-07-18T20:03:00.001+02:00

Ways to Achieve a Lousy Weekend Vacation

White Girl Edition

Plan a beach vacation on the days you’re getting your period.
Make sure you’re a third-wheel most of the time.

*Experts Challenge: Try to sleep, inside a tiny tent, while
the couple is sexing it up right next to you.
Acknowledge the empty wrap of condoms in the morning.

Choose a rainy and windy night to use a short dress.

*Experts Challenge: Flash your panties to a group of guys
you’d only touch with a machete.

Get a random dude to offer you illegal drugs in exchange for a blowjob.
Have an ambitious 15 year old kid to tag along.
Be right next to him when he, finally, decides to puke; extra points if he does it all over your leg.

*Experts Challenge: Avoid thinking about the pneumonia you’re definitely getting, while you wash that leg in the unbearable cold ocean water.

Pretend to have a decent conversation with a guy, while he has a passed out teenage cousin on his left side, and a very horny couple fucking on his other side.

*Experts Challenge: Accept the fact that that’s impossible
and you’ll, both, be just awkwardly staring into space.

Come to the realization that, even if a porch is a mixture of vomit and sex noises, is the warmest place you’ll be able to find at 4am.

*Experts’ Challenge: Stay there, doing nothing, three hours.

Fight, against 50 people, for a place in a bus, at 7am.

*Experts Challenge: Develop a very rational fear that someone,
from that crowd, might have raped you.

Spend all night fantasizing about getting back to a tent; then, find that tent completely destroyed by the rain
Get more change than you should’ve, after buying something: Realize that’s the happiest you’ve been all weekend.
Walk home alone, from the bus station, at 12am, only to find out there’s no one there to open the door.

*Experts Challenge: Forget about self respect
and break down crying on the doorsteps.
Keep crying, even though, you know, no one
would/should feel sorry for the poor rich girl
who didn’t have fun on her beach vacations.

Sticky and Sweaty

2011-07-14T12:22:00.002+02:00

I’ll just say it: I like porn. Shocking, I know; girls not only like sex, girls like watching other people have sex, who would have thought.

The thing is that I’m also into kink; sometimes I worry I’m not so into conventional sex as I should, but that’s really just between me and the Lord (that’s how I’m calling my future sex partner).

Having those preferences do make, looking for porn, on the internet, an interesting adventure. Since people seemed to enjoy reading what was going through my head while I did something as boring as studying for math, I figured you’d enjoy this treat too.

Trust me, you can’t make this shit up.

0010. Come on, tubegalore, you must have something good for me today.

0011. Bizarre…? I’m not sure my stomach is strong enough to handle this category.

0012. Double blowjob; double fisting; double toying; double penetration anal; double penetration pussy… Damn, if one dick in one hole isn’t enough, you know you have problems…

0014. Saggy tits; sailor; sandwich…!! There’s porn about sandwiches?

0017. I’m going with Lesbian Gangbang.

0028. Oh no… They are going to get a baseball bat into…? Oh, they are… Now I feel bad this poor girl got fucked over with a bat and I’m just going to close the tab.

0030. I just hate these stupid ads all around, they make me lose my focus!

0031. OMG! Is that the Little Mermaid having sex with his father? How is that even possible!? I’ll just click it to…

0032. Well, of course it was spam! Man, I’m like those old people who actually think they are the 10.000.000^th visitor!

0038. Bobbi Starr has such a nice set of teeth… She’s adorable… Huh… I think it’s time for a little of testosterone!

0045. Is he going to pee on her? Oh, man! This was such a pleasant video until that happened! Ok, I’ll just pretend he’s cumming.

0046. That would be a lot of semen.

0047. Ok, this is not even normal pee.

0048. No. This isn’t possible; that’s a hose strapped on to a dildo. I’m closing this.

0055. Are hairy pussies in again? How come nobody told me?

0058. It’s just not fair! There are a lot of hot girls doing porn and I can’t get a single attractive dude? How hard is to get a young guy to agree to get paid for having sex…? Instead I just have to look at these lovely young ladies sucking the cock of a midget!

0059. Let’s face it, I can’t afford to have standards.

A Little Premature in my Calculations

2011-07-01T17:06:00.001+02:00

If I used tags, this would be under “white girl problems”.

Can’t Seem to Get Very Interested

2011-06-23T16:06:00.001+02:00

You know it’s almost impossible for me to study in an empty library? Not because it is a remainder of how almost everybody in my building is home with their families…

No. It turns out I really need someone shooting me the "Study,-bitch,-that’s-why-you’re-here” look… Without that, I’m just an exceptionally cute bimbo who gets distracted by shiny objects.

Prepare yourself for a very accurate dramatization of what happens inside my head while I study alone:

1700: I’ll study for an hour, take a short break and then study some more…

1702: A vector subspace is a space inside a vector space… That’s so funny… I should make a graphic of this and post it on the internet; something like invection... No. That’s not funny at all.

1706: I wonder who decided there’s a whole universe of vectors…

1707: What I really wonder is what is like to have an erection…

1710: Vectors… Stupid little vectors – Wait! What was that? Did that led on my phone just blinked…? Nope. No, it didn’t.

1712: ♪Danger! Danger! High Voltage! When we touch! When we kiss!♪ Man, I wish I could just get that fucking song out of my head… lol, no, I don’t; is awesome.

1715: OMG! Look at me! I’m balancing a pen with just my nose!

1718: I hate vectors.

1721: ♪ Don’t you wanna know how we keep starting fires? It’s my desire! IT’S MY DESIRE! ♪ … I’m so glad no one came in when I decided to suddenly jump off my chair…

1727: Ok, that led totally blinked now… Yes! I got mail! omg just like that movie…!!

1729: Oh, he’s so funny. I should answer this email now…! NO! Woman, control yourself; first, you study, then, you answer emails.

1734: ██████ private ████ ████ █████ █████ little █████████ fantasy ████ ███ ███████ you █████ ███ ███ ██████ ███ ███ ████ really ████ █████ don’t ███ ██ ████ ███ ████ ███████ need ████ █████ ██ ███ ██████ ███████ to ███ ███████ know ███████████ ████ ███ █████ ████ █ █████… Should I change panties now or later?

1739: What? What am I doing glancing at other girl’s books?! My seat is at the other side of the room… How the hell did I get here? I don’t even care about finances!

1741: I understand this so well; maybe I don’t need to study… Wait! Is that a 4? That doesn’t make sense at all!

1743: I’m so going to fail.

1751: Oh… It’s a 1… That I understand. Note to self: Work on your calligraphy.

1755: ♪When we touch! When we kiss!♪

1756: Well, that’s as close to an hour as you can get. I’ll take my very well-deserved break now. Note to self: Don’t act surprise when you fail.

Now, I’m not trying to be funny but I should really go study.

Sore and Childish

2011-06-17T02:01:00.001+02:00

There’s nothing I hate more than when guys claim girls always fall for the jerks.

I’m going for dramatics with this entry;
there are tons of things I hate more than that, for example:
- exams
- people who dislike puppies
- hangovers
- unflushed toilets
Oh, and I guess that war stuff kinda sucks too

Dear self-proclaimed nice guys:

You don’t have to finish last.
There’s a difference between nice and dumb.

Sure, some girls do like mean guys, just like some girls enjoy the Twilight series… Shit happens, I won’t ever understand it but the rest of us don’t have to carry that fucking burden.

You know, I’ve been a girl for as long as I can remember and I’ve had a very traditional girl-upbringing. From marrying Barbie and Ken a zillion times to discussing contraceptives, I have done the whole ritual; I know girls. Even behind all those mind games I know what they want and, trust me on this one, lovely dick-carrier, they don’t want jerks.

Confidence. Bitches love confidence.

Confident guys are mistaken with jerks. Confident girls are mistaken with sluts. I’m guessing our society wants to give a negative connotation to people who feel secure enough to get what they want; whatever, I’m too pretty to think deeper than that, so I’ll let society figure that one out on their own.

I’ll keep this short and simple.

You are not being a nice guy if you:

long for the girl
do whatever she asks you to do
(while you both have your clothes on and she’s not willing to do a thing for you)
constantly remind her how you feel about her
(when she doesn’t feel the same way)
follow her wherever she goes
(without her previous consent… or even with her consent)
want to bang her but instead you’re listening to her whining about other guys

You are, actually, being an idiot ~~and, probably, a creep~~. I’m sorry to break it up to you but… That’s not sexy, honey.

If you don’t think you can do better than the “good friend” status, we won’t either. If letting her go and/or admitting to yourself it’s a hopeless situation, means being a jerk… Be the biggest jerk you can be.

I know my audience; guys don’t need an ego buster section, you just need boobs… Enjoy:

In Love with Knowledge

2011-06-09T19:27:00.001+02:00

I reached a 100th followers and this is my way to celebrate it

To every girl who has picked
the name of their future kids after having a nice,
10 minute conversation with a guy
& to my mom, just because… Hi mom!

Note from the Author

I don’t know how to flip my hair to get guys attention and, apparently, I missed the “shake that thang” lesson. Being socially handicapped, I have no advice on how to get a man; being, then, a shy nymphomaniac I was forced to develop a mentality to survive the constant deception: whatever, if I’m not getting myself under him, I will just get over him. On that subject, my fellow cunt, I do have advice.

you’re enjoying yourself,
admit it

I don’t need to know your situation. You’re loving it. Even if it’s just deep down.

Call me a shallow twat, if your will, I don’t get to have layers; I simply confess I j’adore crushing on a guy. However, these days being dramatic is the new interesting and people consider liking someone a burden; that’s cool, whatever suits you… but if this is your situation, please admit you somewhat enjoy it. It will be our little secret…

You must enjoy an aspect of it; you wouldn’t be in this position otherwise. Perhaps you don’t enjoy the anxiety involved and I’ll be the first one to admit not being liked back is a kinda shitty. Nevertheless, if you’re a bit like me, you find relieving there’s someone so funny/hot/smart/whateverrocksyourworld out there.

I’m pointing all this crap out just to make you accept that you’re in whatever situation because you want to be and, just like that, if you really want to, you can get out of it.

is it ‘luv <3’? seriously, bitch…?
seriously?

Hey. I get it, you want to make this guy special from the rest. How are your friends ever going to take you seriously if you don’t make up some kind of soul mate or spark bullshit? That’s why I’m prescribing you a big dose of skepticism with a side of cynicism.

Unless the guy has proven he can be trusted with your feelings, whatever you’re having it’s not that big deal… It’s just wishful thinking. He’s not that awesome. He’s not that different. Your conversations are not that deep and meaningful. You’re not that alike. You’re not that into him, you’re into the idea of being with him.

if it’s not fun,
it’s not worth it

People affect you just as much as you let them. I bet you’ve thought you found “the one” before meeting your current one; I bet you’ve felt you wouldn’t be able to move on until you did… And if you’re reading this I’m predicting you are alive and, therefore, haven’t died from being so in love or from the heartbreak that comes afterwards.

Let me tell you a little story: This female friend of mine (she doesn’t need a cute nickname) told me, not so long ago, I couldn’t possibly understand the pain of longing for a guy because I’m always having “such great times”. Well… yes. Yes. She’s right. It’s not that guys fall for me (ha!), I get rejected and disposed just like she does, big difference between us is that I don’t expect guys to change their minds: fuck them. Being emotionally incapable of liking you shouldn’t be in your “perfect man” list.

(I’m assuming you’re young and carefree… Since it’s my only area of expertise)
Stop believing your love life rests on some higher power. Be reckless and stupid. Imagine yourself years from now, popping out kids and having to be responsible for some else’s sake. Do you want your memories to be about that awesome guy and his awesome music taste (whose memories won’t be about that girl who only liked “as a friend”) or some impressive shit that would be illegal to tell your children?

My methods shock the romantic types, I know. Before you get the wrong idea, consider yourself warned: jumping from guy to guy at bars won’t bring you happiness; however, is equally foolish to expect a stable relationship to do that for you either.

(obligatory ego buster section)

I really believe that you don’t need anybody who doesn’t think you’re so fucking awesome you must poop rainbows; they would bore you on the long run.

Please tell me you’re not the kind who needs a “you deserve so much more” speech. Come on, dudette… You own the pussy and the titties, guys dig that. You don’t need anybody saying you deserve someone who gives a shit because you already know it; you probably do poop rainbows.

Her Next Move in the Game

2011-06-03T19:47:00.001+02:00

In a moment of weakness (or clarity, depends on whom you ask) I decided to switch a tutoring class just to fit that Cute Guy schedule. I had no special agenda that included oral sex or other shenanigans, I didn’t even plan on talking to him; at this point, just staring at him and letting out the occasional sigh gets me off... Hell, that worked out fine in Jr. High and I’m not ashamed to admit it’s just as enjoyable in college.

Unfortunately, when I arrived there was just a sit available, in a perfect angle for him to stare at me but not for me to do it (unless I pulled an Exorcist but I heard guys get uncomfortable with that). Instead of paying attention to stuff I may find useful in my upcoming test, I spent the whole hour figuring out how to look sexy while I was flipping my hair, taking notes, pretending to pay attention, turning to the next page; you can’t imagine how stressful that is… I’m just glad I didn’t choke when I tried to give my pen a blowjob.

It’s not uncommon that my thoughts aren’t exactly where they should be. Half of the hours I am inside the library are wasted on updating my sexual fantasies repertory; right now I’m into doing a guy while a couple of his friends are watching… But I’m pretty sure my Physics professor won’t care about that on Monday.

I’m about to find out how well does that diet based on caffeine, aspirins and dirty thoughts work… Wish me luck!

Girls Aren’t Too Much Help

2011-05-29T17:52:00.001+02:00

“no sex.no drugs.no wine.no women
no fun.no sin.no you.no wonder it's dark”

the vapors
turning japanese

I should add “no reason to blog”.

There was no need to come up with an original introduction for this entry; those lyrics describe my life so perfectly now that I have final exams starting in less than a week.

My days have been reduced to: study/kill the few neurons I’ve left on the internet/eat/poop... Notice I didn’t mention “fuck”. I’m worrying for sanity, here. No matter how much effort my vibrator puts into it (and the poor thing is risking the chance of overheating), it doesn’t seem to be enough.

If TV shows have taught me something is that a girl can fix all her problems ~~getting drunk~~ ~~having a cute boyfriend~~ with a nice girly chat. I thought I could count on my friend, Grey, with this; she, after all, got that lousy nickname from Grey’s Anatomy; for being such a horny med student. I was so wrong about everything that I already decided it’s going straight to my biography.

“I need to get laid” I confessed while Grey and I hung out in her bedroom. I laughed but I was being deadly serious “I swear I can’t think of anything but sex… And it’s not exactly convenient, you know? Everything makes me horny… “ I stopped abruptly; Grey’s eyes were piercing into my soul “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I just realized I’m definitely not a lesbian” She answered, as if it was something to be proud about “Here I am, with such an easy opportunity to fuck you and I can honestly say I don’t want to”.

I slammed the door on my way out so hard a moody teenager would be proud.

I don’t know where she got her Friendship Manual but I didn’t feel a bit comforted after hearing how unfuckable I am.

Shallow college girl in search for an attractive
23 year old guy with a sense of humor
and flexible hours.
No experience required.

No Kidding

2011-05-25T17:04:00.001+02:00

I was just informed my dry but charming sense of humor makes me come off like an asshole, at least in front of people who don’t know me and/or think I’m incapable of making a joke.

No need to say I am unpleasantly surprised. I don’t consider myself many things but at least I think I’m polite. Since changing my ways would be a pain but I’m not comfortable with the idea of being unloved, here’s a pamphlet I made and everybody is getting one (yay!).

sarcasm is your friend
(and so am I!) ♥

1. D o n ’ t t a k e m e s e r i o u s l y
In fact, don’t take anything so seriously, you’re better off that way.

2. Confrontation scares me. I suck at comebacks and I cry easily. Believe me, I wouldn’t insult you even if I wanted to.

3. When I tell (what I think it is) an awesome joke I laugh like an idiot, sometimes, making me unable to finish it.
Most of the times, though, my jokes are super lame and, as a sign of respect, I don’t laugh at them. It’s still a joke.
I’m not done with this point:

If I tell a friend to “shut up, you just want attention” and she doesn’t get offended/keeps talking, there’s no need for you to get offended for her.

If you felt the need to clarify that a dog is going to get check by a vet and not a human doctor someone had to mock you… No, no, seriously, what’s wrong with you? Can’t you laugh at yourself? It was a Disney-rated joke… Whatever, I don’t hang out with boring losers anyway.

4. Fuck you.

My Mother Always Knows it's Me

2011-05-21T12:21:00.001+02:00

Second most frequent question I get since I moved here (beaten roughly by “If you’re Mexican, why are you white?”) is:

“How can you be so ok with having your parents this far away?”

Well, I’m not so ok with it; I learned, from a very young age, geography is a bit of a bitch. However, the founder of Skype would be very pleased to know I probably talk more to my mother since I got here than when we were living under the same roof.

I’ve become a girl who tells everything to her mother… *giggles* ok, not everything. Here are some of my best stories that had to be modified in order to make them suitable for my mommy:

Dude and I talked for hours that night […]¹, he was so fun. He walked me home […]²and asked for my phone number.
Conveniently censored:

¹and we ended up spending the night together
²next morning

After I “broke up” with Dude I wasn’t really that sad; I went straight up to my friend’s, Grey, room, we talked […]³and I realized it wasn’t really a big loss […]⁴.
Conveniently censored:

³ while we smoked weed
⁴since everything was funny and nothing hurt

Judas and I walked around town […]⁵ and we just kept sharing glances and lightly touching our hands, which lasted for an hour or two… He did hold my hand later that night […]⁶ […]⁷[…]⁸, no kissing, though.
Conveniently censored:

⁵ because Muffin and her boyfriend were fucking in our only hostel room
6 when we were both sleeping on the same bed
⁷ where Muffin and Muffin Man fucked earlier that night
⁸ while they kept fucking in the bathroom

That crappy night suddenly got better when I spotted that cute guy from classes. We talked […]⁹ left the bar […]¹⁰, kept talking […]¹¹; he kissed me […]¹² but then he said he didn’t want anything serious; I said it was ok and kept talking […]¹³.
Conveniently censored:

⁹ and made out
¹⁰ to the backseat of his car
¹¹ and making out
¹²amongst other things
¹³and making out

Do mothers really want to know all the details?

I’m 21, if I’m a screw-up, I’m too old to be fixed. Since I’m not selling my body in exchange of heroine, I see no harm in my mother thinking I’m a straight-edge virgin.

She Marries Him Anyway

2011-05-17T18:00:00.001+02:00

I’m currently reading Nietzsche (which makes me sound way smarter than I really am) and I’m noticing he’s a bit of an asshole; even worse when he mentions women. On a chapter, however, he goes on and on about how our (I’m talking to my bitches here) biggest enemy are other girls; even though we have a personal love for ourselves, we still carry an impersonal disgust for women. I so wanted to call him a dick but, instead, I found myself agreeing with him.

My best friends have always been females and that’s not changing anytime soon; although, if I have to be in a room full of people, I prefer them to be all guys. Not because I’m a horndog looking for an orgy, simply because they are easier to talk to. As if a life of reinforcement didn’t do, these past days showed me Nietzsche had a point.

lamebitchfight#1*
The context here is lame and boring. You just need to know that all the girls from my residence had to go downstairs to help with something; I was on my way but something stopped me. An hour later I ran into a girl from my floor with whom I rarely talk to. She must have had her period or a stick up her ass since she thought it would be nice to bitch about the fact that I didn’t go downstairs; I considered my options:

a) ~~Explain to her what happened.~~ It would lead to her telling me what I should have done.
b) ~~Tell her not be such a drama queen.~~ I don’t have the balls.
c) ~~Apologize.~~ No.
d) … whatthehell, play dead.

I waited for her to finish and kept walking. Didn’t say a word. It was fun.

lamebitchfight#2
I know how this will sound so I’ll start by saying: I like my brother’s girlfriend (not in that way), I think she’s lovely; I’m guessing she doesn’t think I’m disgusting, either. Even so, when we both arrived back in town, after weeks of not seeing him, hell broke loose in a very girly way:

“No. Hang out with her… She’s your girlfriend/sister, of course you have to be with her”

We ended up having dinner, the three of us, at her place; I pretended to fall asleep on the couch, so they wouldn’t feel bad for leaving me alone.
(I don’t want to be a cockblock).

lamebitchfight#3
Back at my brother’s apartment, where his adorable roommate was being handsome as always. He decided to give me this hat that he didn’t use, just because it made me look more like a Mexican (it’s not a sombrero at all but attractive people can get away with stupid comments). When his girlfriend found out, hell broke loose, again, this time including shouting, tears and “you’re such an inconsiderate pig!”; she really wanted that hat and it wasn’t a gentleman move from him to give it to somebody else.

They made up. I have very strict instructions to take the hat and never bring it back.

Even though I hate happy couples and want to see them burn, I’m not proud that my mere existence creates such chaos.

^*I’m not cool enough to have real bitch fights.

Mad with Desire

2011-05-13T19:21:00.001+02:00

My best friend and I never agree on guys, which makes it pretty damn easy to stay true to our “Hoes before Bros” philosophy.

I don’t even try arguing with her because, on some level, I’m aware her guys are better looking than mine. She’s really into pretty little guys with six packs who only exist at Abercrombie & Fitch; even though I can’t deny these guys are the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be ♫, they do nothing for me. If I wanted pretty, I’d be licking pussy… My guys have to be rough around the edges; there must be something awkward about them.

The guy with the girlfriend, Judas, the one I ~~like~~ ~~liked~~ ~~like~~ liked, falls into the “pretty” category. His soft clear skin, greenish almond shaped eyes and perfect white smile make him so delicate looking he almost gives the impression of being a little boy. I didn’t think much of him when we first met, it wasn’t until we talked for a while (and he defended me against Dude’s childish actions) when I became interested.

My relationship with the Cute Guy from my classes was far more animalistic. There’s really nothing to say about his appearance, he’s average. Average height, average weight, dark eyes, dark hair and still, from the first time I saw him, entering my classroom, I thought “fuck, this guy is so hot”.

Making out with him hasn’t calmed my sexual needs at all, neither did the fact that his not-so-close shave left the skin around my mouth sore for three days. Biology takes over me every time I see him in the hallways; I don’t care whether he’s a Sagittarius or if he likes to feed hungry puppies on his free time (no, ok, I’d care about the puppies), I just keep thinking what an amazing set of kids we would have. I swear I rarely ever feel this mating necessity so badly. Of course I don’t mean I want to become a 21 year old mother, I just want to do it like mammals do on the Discovery Channel ♫.

Either I come up with a casual and not at all desperate way to get him into bed or with a good explanation for why was I humping his leg.

My Father was Catholic Once

2011-05-09T11:47:00.001+02:00

The most entertaining aspect of living in a college residence run by nuns is hearing people’s reaction when I tell them I do. I’m not trying to mock anybody; if I weren’t living here I’d probably think being a “slave of Jesus Christ” would involve serious flagellation after every impure thought.

Let’s get the record straight: I don’t have to go to church, I can go out on weekends and I don’t masturbate with crucifixes or throw rocks at prostitutes… I don’t even believe in god (but I wouldn’t say that too loud around here, just in case).

To paint you a pretty picture just imagine you decide, along with a group of college students of your same sex, to live in the same building. Some of them, for whatever reason, decide to bring their grandmothers; since it would be rude to tell a bunch of 70 year-old women to get the fuck out, you decide to give them the first floor, while you and your friends move to the top floors. As a way of thanking you for that thoughtful gesture, the grandmas decide to cook food for you, everyday (except Sundays’ evenings, since that’s God’s hour or something). They won’t bother you if you don’t bother them but they’ll still tell you to put a jacket on, because is cold outside.

Nuns rarely give me interesting stories, however, a couple of days ago I had an interview with the Head of Residence; it was just a formality but it gave me a wonderful opportunity to exercise my “don’t even bother” muscle.

Below, you can read a dramatization of the most relevant moments in which these symbols ‘♪♫’ will replace a “whatever, bitch… I’m not going to argue with you”.

Nunism #1
TheBoss: Is your handwriting always like this? […] Your t, h, b and else are all at the same height, you don’t expand… Do you realize that says something about your self-esteem?
Me: My handwriting in general is big… Doesn’t that say something?

Example of my handwriting

TB: Yes, it does… It says you are a generous person with potential, however, those t’s say you are afraid to reach that potential… Is that true?
Me: [My handwriting is such a badmouther] I don’t know… Never thought about that.
TB: I’m just telling you what your handwriting says about you; do you agree?
Me: [♪♫] Ok, yeah, probably.

Nunism #2
TB: Personal question, we never got to discuss it before… How’s your faith?
Me: […shit] It’s ok.
TB: So you believe?
Me: [no] Oh… I don’t know. I don’t think about it.
TB: So you think something that most of the world believes in is stupid…?
Me: [how did you get that from “I don’t know”?] Stupid? No… I’m just not into religion.
TB: Does your family believe?
Me: My brothers and my mother don’t. My father… I don’t really know, I think he does.
TB: You don’t know?
Me: He never talks about it.
TB: Now I see the problem…
Me: [Rude bitch!]
TB: If you don’t think it’s stupid you must believe there’s something out there… Don’t you think it’s important to give it a little bit of thought?
Me: [♪♫] Ok, yeah, probably.

Nunism #3
TB: Even though your mother is Spanish and you have Spanish roots… I’m sure your South American side predominates…
Me: [ohnoshedidn’t! ok, don’t bother, whatev- NO!] Latin American*
TB: Yes, yes…
Me: No. Mexico is not in South America…
TB: [♪♫] Ok, yeah, of course.
Ouch…! She’s good.

I’m Sorry I Told So Many People About It

2011-05-06T12:52:00.001+02:00

I, little miss “unfinished projects”, have achieved a hundredth blog entries, if I did my math right (nah, I have an entry counter; I’m too pretty to do math). I’m going to celebrate it in the most annoying way: doing a flashback episode.

I’m leaving all the grammar mistakes, because they are a big part of my awesomeness.

I have never used a washing machine, I don’t really know the value of money and… Have I mention I have terrible social skills? I mean, I’m truly awkward. I just stand there, make terrible jokes or just looking petrified.

FRIDAY, JANUARY 8, 2010
More Places and More Names

That reminds me… I need to do my laundry today; I’m almost out of panties.
My phone company surely knows the fucking value of my money.
All my make-out partners tend to disagree on this one… Or they are into petrified looks (…or into boobs).

SATURDAY, JANUARY 23, 2010
A Little on the Young Side

This one will remain as my best blog entry ever.

Now, not only I just crossed the line between loving my dog and being a freak about it… I reek of wet dog

SUNDAY, JANUARY 31, 2010
What I don't Spend, I Lose

I miss reeking of wet dog ): Nothing fun to add here… I don’t joke about loving my dog.

Houston, we have a problem: I ~~write~~ wrote pure crap.
I’m going through the months without finding something of substance… Why did people read me back then…? Why was I even alive? </dramatics>

I’m actually voting for just one, but option number 2 doesn’t sound that bad after some research I made of other places, I’ll just say this: There’s a (just-girls) residency called “Slaves of Jesus Christ”.

MONDAY, MARCH 1, 2010
Do you Feel Absolutely no Concern for your Future, boy?

I’m usually not into cutesy acronyms but… LOL! Big fucking LOL! Life surely has an awesome sense of humor; I’m a Slave of Jesus Christ and I’m fucking proud of it.

Would you really rather regret something you did, that something you didn’t?

FRIDAY, MARCH 12, 2010
I Have a Splitting Headache

Bad decisions make awesome stories, kiddo.

Not much else to add; in this day and age Facebook words are even wiser: I’m not longer in a relationship.

FRIDAY, APRIL 2, 2010
Where the Hell is Everybody?

I proudly announce I’m still rocking that single status.

My imaginary sex life is so great.

MONDAY, JUNE 7, 2010
Try to Relax Occasionally

I now realize I’m just way too hot to have a real sex life.

Cooking, cleaning the bathroom, ironing, grocery shopping. Activities that I try to have fun with, as I don’t do them very often. Activities that in a couple of months will be a big pain in the ass since I will be dealing with them on a daily basis.

SATURDAY, JUNE 26, 2010
I'm Going Alone. So Shut Up.

I was such an adorable little snowflake! Actually thinking I’d do those activities on a daily basis and not just when I have no other choice but doing them since my health or/and dignity are at stake.

We made out, and we made out hard. When I came out for air I noticed my brother wasn’t that far away from me; he looked right back, and with a very drunk smile on his face he offered my make-out partner a shot of tequila.

MONDAY, AUGUST 23, 2010
Daddy’ll Kill You

Really, dude? Making out in front of your big brother…? Classiest move to date.

I feel like embarrassing myself today (random need I have from time to time), and talking about my undying love for my brother’s roommate is the fastest way to reach my goal.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 2010
In my Mind, I'm Probably the Biggest Sex Maniac You Ever Saw

You’d be amazed of how quickly that undying love died after I saw the filthy conditions he’s able to live in.
After spending so much time together I already see him as another big brother (one I’d fuck hard but a big brother indeed).

Does anybody knows someone from Valladolid…? Because I don’t.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 29, 2010
Very Phony, Ivy League Voices

I just copied this to say: I do know a lot of people in Valladolid ♥

There isn’t any other way of describing my current situation other than doing the polite thing: Inviting you all to my wedding with Rupert Grint. June, 3rd. Summer wedding, it’s going to be lovely.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 21, 2010
He’s Out in Hollywood

Good thing I read this. June, 3rd is scarily close and most of you haven’t RSVP; manners, guys!

‘There’s another woman involved, you selfish bitch’. Apparently all that ‘Girl Power” we like to brag so much about disappears when there’s guy in the picture.
In their sweet little minds, once the panties are off, dudes forget about everything else, including ~~that~~ those things they call girlfriends.

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 16, 2010
Sensitive as a Goddam Toilet Seat

(I was physically unable to ignore the “that/those” mistake)
How easy was for me to judge those situations without being in one. I’m still not sure how true to my principles I was/am/can be.

You will tell me if I’m blowing this out of proportions, but what kind of 16-year-old boy is not in the mood for sex? I’d have to be some kind of leper for that to happened… And that’s a very low blow to my self-esteem

MONDAY, JANUARY 3, 2011
A Rude Bastard

No, I was wrong… Hating on a 16 year-old dude for not wanting to sex me up is my classiest move to date.

Any idiot would record their everyday thoughts but just a borderline retard would want to remind people of her own stupidity. Oh, well!

Sex Rules for Myself

2011-05-02T20:14:00.001+02:00

Do you ever wonder if some of your principles are just an elegant excuse for being a coward?

I’ve grown to think it’s my duty to update you on my social life and then share the life lesson I got from it… Today won’t be any different.

Let me start saying that night I looked pretty damn hot. I’m throwing it out there so people understand how frustrating it was for me to be wasting all my hotness as a third-wheel for my friend Muffin and her Man. Guys did come up to me (did I mention I looked hot?) but I was only interested in one. Judas, being your typical frat boy was too busy getting drunk with his friends to approach me more than very few times. I did consider approaching him but, either my principles or my lack of metaphorical balls, stopped me.

He has a girlfriend. If he isn’t going out of his way to talk to me, I just have to assume he is happy with his current situation and respect that. What’s the difference between that and not having the courage to break up a couple…? It is a thin line that being intoxicated and disappointed as I was couldn’t figure out.

In paper (or in Microsoft Word) my whole mental process seems pretty classy; in reality, I ended up yelling at a random guy. It was a shitty night and the guy was being annoying as fuck, shut up, I never yell.

Life is too short to carry a bad night on your shoulders. After Muffin almost dragged me out of the bathroom, ~~I decided~~ she convinced me I am too pretty to be in such a crappy mood.

Operation: “omg! look who’s there and looking hot” began.

Remember the guy, from one of my classes, who was flirting with me before his “friends” decided to cockblock him? The one I, being 15 at heart, decided to nickname him Cute Guy? If you do, you will understand I owed him a make out session… What kind of person would I be if I didn’t show this poor guy life isn’t always unfair?

We were making out at the backseat of his car when he confessed he wasn’t looking for anything serious… Before I could ask him if my tongue down his throat felt as a marriage proposal he wondered if I could maintain a casual relationship.

I said no.

My principles (that word again!) have been answering that question for a while now. I can’t have a sex buddy; ~~people~~ I get attached and things get messy. Or at least that’s what I’ve been telling myself since I was 16. Being such an adorable little cynic I find it hard to believe I could confuse sex with love nowadays… I’m too much of a coward to figure it out, anyway.

Actors Carrying Crucifixes

2011-04-25T12:58:00.001+02:00

Carrie
It was like a bomb that just kept exploding: “I have a girlfriend. This whole flirtation is in your head”

Charlotte
He should have mentioned her earlier. That guy is a jerk.

Carrie
Thing is, I don’t think he is. I sparked with this person. I never spark… I wonder how happy they are.
This is not a good side of me. Seriously! What’s the point of meeting someone like that if they’re not available?

Charlotte
It’s the universe telling you they’re still out there.

Miranda
Maybe it’s the universe telling you all the good ones are taken.

Charlotte
What did he look like?

Carrie
I can’t remember, which is what always happens when I really like someone. I just remember a feeling… Or he was a dating mirage.
I was so hungry for a spark, I hallucinated a man!

Sex and the City
plus one is the loneliest number,
Season 5

Why come up with witty thoughts when there are TV shows?

Don’t Touch Anything

2011-04-21T14:21:00.001+02:00

Believe it or not, I’ve done a little bit of growing up since I left my parents’ house 9 months ago… I’m not talking about my moral compass, of course; it sailed, along with my virginity, years ago (leaving a goodbye note promising me I’ll see them both again when I’m old and boring). I’m referring another kind of growing up, an underrated kind: The Stop being such a little bitch kind.

I miss my family, friends, dog and bed. I worry about not getting the grade, I let myself be disappointed by guys constantly and my period hasn’t been regular for a year now. Meanwhile, a friend of mine is going through the death of a family member due to cancer and my parents’ phone calls have been, more than once, reduced to “Guess how many people have died tragically as a result of the drug dealing war here in Mexico?”; I’m pretty sure people in Japan and Syria aren’t having a blast either.

I said it once; I’ve no problem in saying it again: I have no real problems. Neither most of you, face it.

I’m not against bitching, believe me, I’m a great bitching partner…

^{Did you just spent a sleepless week studying and you still failed the test?}Let’s swear our brains out while we plan to chew that teacher’s balls off.
^{Your clothes look terrible because of the half of pound you gained?}Cry as hard as you can, I bet it burns lots of calories.
^{Did that beautiful cock teaser just say she loves you like a brother?}I say there’s not better excuse to drink until you puke… And then drink again.

However, if you are going to ~~act like~~ believe it’s the end of the world, you will have to excuse me while I roll my eyes; life is too short for me to pretend I care. It does hurt like a bitch but no matter how hot she is or how sweet he was, we are lucky if boy/girl crap is the biggest of our troubles.

The way I see it, in every bad situation (once you’re over the initial shock), you have two choices:

a) Stop bitching and get yourself out of it.
b) Keep letting it mess up with your head and stop bitching, since you apparently enjoy it.

Now that I have half convince you, I won’t look so pathetic when I explain you why am I spending the rest of my Spring Break with my grandparents: I refuse to keep bitching about the same things over and over again.

I mentioned, on January, how disgusting my brother’s apartment was. Ok, it turns out… I didn’t know shit about disgusting; no one knows about disgusting until you find yourself taking a probably useless shower in a tub with dead bugs, pubic hair and some spots I will pretend I never saw. ~~Blame my parents for raising, both, an uptight bitch and a repulsive pig.~~

Not even The Roommate’s sweet ass is going to keep me here.

Jesus Never Sent Old Judas to Hell

2011-04-17T21:18:00.001+02:00

From the old 90210 to the new one, I’ve lived in Teenageland longer than I should have. I’ve seen fictional characters go from high school to college, action those self-proclaimed critics state as “jumping the shark”. I never fully understood why so many people hate that TV-transition, until a few days ago. It’s not realistic… And yes, I’m talking about realism on TV shows where everyone just accepts 29-year-olds as high school students and black kids as an extinct specie.

Coming from a phase when a “sorry, hon, I can’t drive you to the mall today” felt like a justified cause of depression; young impressionable idiots, like me, end up feeling scammed when we realize how few fucks one actually gives once we reach college… I guess it’s hard to create a mildly successful TV Drama in which we can’t care about the characters, given that they don’t even care about themselves.

Time for a context and an explanation: Muffin and I thought it would be fun for us to stay an extra day before heading home for spring vacation on a cheap hostel; we also decided to invite some testosterone to stay with us, agreeing they make the world a sexier place. After a relatively open invitation, that testosterone end up being Muffin’s boyfriend (a.k.a The Muffin Man; credit: Danni), Dude and Dude’s “loving-hands” friend I mentioned on my last entry, which, for fun, we’ll call Judas. I swear I wasn’t aware of this arrangement until last minute, I don’t seek drama that hard… Although, I’m guilty of not giving a damn when I see it about to crash against me.

In an unexpected but greatly appreciated twist of events, Dude decided to be pleasant; there was no chemistry left between us, whatsoever (which makes me wonder if there ever was).

Indifference reign over the evening even before we took the hookah out and do that transferring smoke from mouth to mouth thingy; activity awfully enjoyed by Judas and me. Later, that evening, a fuck was almost given when my own friend assured me Judas’ girlfriend wasn’t really a girlfriend and more like a casual fling, you can’t really blame me for thinking this was just too suspiciously convenient for it to be true.

However, the “I-Don’t-Care.I’m-A-Golden-God” Award was given to Dude after I was informed of a conversation that took place during my absence (ihaveatinybladder.org).

Muffin Man
Do you like her?

Judas
Yeah… I…
[looks at Dude awkwardly]

Dude
Hey, don’t let me stop you. Next time, give me the heads up and I’ll stay at our dorm.

0700: Dude was already at his dorm, keeping his word; Muffin and her Man were at the middle of a two hour sex session inside a bathroom stall; Judas and I were at our only bed, sleeping and, for the first time in the history of my blog, I don’t mean anything else than that.

Our eyes completely closed, our legs locked between each others’ and his hands holding mine; minutes before my brain completely shut off, it revolved around an almost dating rule: “A guy wouldn’t leave his girlfriend or whatever it is, for a girl who his friend banged the night they met her”. I lost my thought when he showed me he wasn’t asleep, either, by holding my hands tighter and bringing them closer to his chest. Being the cynic I am, I knew it didn’t mean a thing; being the idiot I am, I smiled.

Go Home, Mac, Like a Good Guy

2011-04-11T17:47:00.001+02:00

Dear Dude:

Don’t be alarm by this letter assuming its content will be an attack. I’m incapable of such thing. I write without the intention of bother or humiliate you. Surely, I apologize by my request of attention; I know your feelings must be granting it only grudgingly but I’m requesting it in a sense of justice.

First, let me share my best wishes. I truly hope the hangover wasn’t so bad it made your head explode or that you haven’t died in some other freakish accident. Nothing makes me happier that knowing a gang of black skinned gentlemen haven’t share intimacy with you.

Our last encounter left me anxious; as a caring person I feel it’s my duty to help you in whichever way possible, therefore, I’m attaching a document you may find useful in the future.

Dealing with a Girl You Used to Date 101

Chapter 3:
When Being An Asshole is Extremely Unnecessary

Ask yourself these questions: Was she honest with you while you were going out? Was she nice? Did she try to make you feel comfortable (meaning, she was never clingy and/or listen to you whine about grades)? Did she pretend to be interested while you talked about Assassin’s Creed for half an hour? If you answered yes to most of these questions, this chapter is for you.

Be sure you’re in the easiest situation possible: simple lack of compatibility. No need to do anything else but avoid being an asshole.

Here are a few tips:

*Note: We are required to advice you that getting your butt drunk is never a good idea, even if you’re in college and, consequently, immortal. Drinking whiskey directly from the bottle will just make you look like an idiot.

It’s considered well manners to greet the people you know from a small group; if you’re shy, just grow a pair.

Pretending to fade out every time your friends try to get you to talk to her it’s frowned upon in some cultures.

Spending your whole night in a corner, alone with your cellphone may not show rudeness, but it’s pathetic. What the hell is wrong with you?

If she, sick of your annoying friends, gives up and comes around to talk to you for a while, according to basic rules of etiquette, you should answer her.

Please understand the purpose for my next confession is to bring nothing but truth to your eyes. Your friend, the one you talked wonders about to me, brought disgrace to your friendship by having an indecent conduct towards me. I can be as explicit as you want me to be: aside from being a sweet talker, he had his hands all over me. He, even, offered to walk me home; proposal I politely refuse since I found out he is committed to another woman.

I know it may be uncomfortable news to you; I, however, hope you recover quickly since I’m graciously asking to give him my number if a break up happens in a near future. I see great premarital sex potential, I’m sure you understand.

My most sincere ‘fuck you’,
Lola “His-hands-felt-better-than-yours-ever-did” Dahl

The Play Itself Was No Masterpiece

2011-04-06T18:09:00.001+02:00

Time to make the whole Fucking-A-Nameless-Guy story some justice… Just not in the name of dignity. To be frank, I do it because this will be my only chance to tell a story of two guys fighting over me, especially, since no one ever asks “How did you and that guy, who you dated for about a month, long time ago, met?”

Context: Costume party; open bar, life was pretty great.

Breaking every single rule girls stand for, I went to the bathroom by my own. Once I got out I found a rather cute guy who goes to one of my classes. If you have read my blog long enough you will know my motto is ‘god bless vodka’, luckily, Cute Guy shares my ideology. He flirted his ass off and I pretended not to be wishing for that moment since I first saw him. As I later found out, this guy had a tiny crush on me; vodka, being the adorable social lubricant it is, helped him make a move.

I don’t know if this generation doesn’t stand for a bro code anymore because Cute Guy’s friends knew what was going on and thought it would be cool to mess around a bit. They distracted him by taking his drink, wallet and probably virginity, they were that mean… Then, they brought out the big guns.

“Hey! You’re the Mexican One, right…? You should totally meet Dude, he has family in Mexico… DUDE! Come here!”

Apparently, a couple of stories about my homeland and a three-hour walk around town at a -2°C (28°F) degree weather make a perfect road out of my panties.

You see, without the sex, the story is kinda blah… Which is the same thing I could say about Dude. After another lousy date, this time, without an apparent reason (other than ‘we already wasted our three conversation topics’), I cut the crap and asked him if he was having fun. I received a vague answer, for a change. In case his sweet little mind didn't understand the question, I rephrase it to “do you really want to keep this going?”… This happened:

“It’s the kind of thing you have to think about…”

This is the moment when I used my “biting tongue” ability not to shout: AM I EVER GOING TO GET A STRAIGHT ANSWER OUT OF YOU, FUCKER?
Instead, I went for this:

“I’m not asking you anything complicated and there’s no hidden agenda… It’s simple as: You like someone, you want to keep seeing him/her.”

When he blurted the “I have to think about it” crap again a red light flashed inside my pretty head warning me to run away fast… Since very few things in my life are ever so evident I, literally, turned around and left. We were already at my front door, it wasn’t that dramatic.

I guess I should have seen it coming when he told me he didn’t read fiction… Or novels, for that matter, since they were not a productive way to waste his time. Oh, fuck your productivity, Age of Empires freak!

…I wonder how hard would Cute Guy’s door hit me in the ass if I come back to him.

People Always Clap For the Wrong Things

2011-04-04T17:59:00.001+02:00

In other news, tomorrow is my 21^st birthday… Ugh, twenty-one is old. It’s almost 25, which is like almost mid-20’s.

If you got the reference I, actually, respect you a little bit less.

To be honest… I love birthdays, especially mine.

The Thing About Girls

2011-03-31T13:40:00.001+02:00

Remember the Classy Bitch act I was showing off on my last entry? I think I may have come off, for some of you, as a stone cold bitch… Even though, now, I know the whole situation wasn’t a big freaking deal, it’s only fair to share the behind-the-scenes feature and made people realize how very far I am from that image.

After my date with the Dude, I went from cool to pathetic in 2,6 seconds just as I walked through the door. Knowing I wouldn’t be able to hold the tears for long I knew I was in serious need for some cunt back up.

Soldier number one didn’t took long to show up: my beloved character, Muffin. Just as the rules from girl etiquette establish it, she assured me Dude will show up eventually and if he didn’t, he was a stupid jerk. The moment I shed a tear she surprised the fuck out me by whipping it immediately and kissing my cheek. While she was stroking my leg my mind run from “Is she trying to make me feel better by sexing me up?” to “I guess is not second base until she grabs a boob”, deciding, finally, to give in to the innocent girl on girl action, I hugged the hell out of Muffin.

Introducing soldier number two: medical student/friend, who, from her ability to talk about her sex life and major for hours is like interacting with a Grey’s Anatomy character. Grey rushed into my room with a bowl of yogurt (very cliché of her, if only that would have been for me) and jokingly (or not) advised me to sleep with his best friend; considering Dude’s best friend is Muffin’s boyfriend I didn’t take it to be a great option, however, her skills to make me laugh about the issue within the hour that happened showed me she is just my kind of chick (even if I’m a little offended because she didn’t try to feel me up).

So… is this the girly interaction I was running away from? Blah, it’s really not that bad… Not bad at all.

Goodnight, Handsome

2011-03-28T17:15:00.001+02:00

Couldn’t think of a witty intro for this post (didn’t try too hard, either), I’ll skip that and just start talking about my disastrous date with… ~~Ugh, I didn’t even name him, didn’t I? WhoIAllowedToTouchMyBoobies is just as long and inappropriate as TooStupidToAskForAFuckingName so we will just call him~~ Dude.

After almost an hour of trying to change the fact that our date was going incredibly awkward and just getting “I have so much study to do” as an answer I started thinking my boots were incredibly fascinating and decided to focus on them instead.

I’m a classy chick (or that’s what I aspire to), I wore my best smile and calmly suggested to call it a night so he could go study. I got up but he just looked at me blankly. Since I’m sweet as fuck I resisted the urge to shout “What are you doing? Get up, you little fucker! No need to prolong this crappy night” and instead I blurted an “Are you ok?”

Do you recall this typically used scene on B-rated movies and sitcoms when someone starts crying in front of a very uncomfortable and startled person? It went something like that, instead, he wasn’t crying, he was just pouring his heart out; I, on the other hand, was definitely shocked. He whined about school, his fruitless efforts to achieve the grade, his gigantic fear of being kicked out because of that and not even having support from his ‘demanding’ parents. I listened to him, did my best to make him smile (which I succeed, yay!) and with awkward pats on his knee I assured him everything will be ok; it’s not the end of the world (said the girl with no real problems) but the moment you start believing it is, it will be.

Scene Two. Still holding onto my cool, once we arrived at my place I told him I didn’t want to make things harder for him, we didn’t need to keep seeing each other if he was that busy. I got such a lousy and useless answer that I don’t even remember it correctly, something along the lines of “it sucks to be busy!”, which makes me think he wasn’t aware that I was breaking things up.

He gave me a kiss goodnight and left me a bit clueless on where we stand at, just enough aware to know it’s not my problem to figure out.

At least I’m true to my advice… Whatever the outcome is, it will not be the end of the world.

Terrific to Hold Hands With

2011-03-24T01:18:00.001+01:00

What I’m about to share may confuse some of my readers… Others may think it fits perfectly with my psychological profile.

Human contact makes me uncomfortable. I don’t mean sudden hugs, pats on the back or hey-dude-high-five!… I talking about those extended touches.

I can stand it (or even appreciate it) if it either comes from someone really close to me (and I mean really close, like a boyfriend, best friend or my mom) or if I’m horny enough to don’t even remember what intimacy means.
I’ll take a moment here to shudder about the fact that I just used “mom” and “horny” in the same sentence…

Girls rarely agree with me on this; they walk arm by arm, sleep on the same bed, sit on each other’s lap… They just love to touch each other (pun very intended). I swear, if I were a boy I’d spend half of the time that I’m with them with a hard-on…

Just a few days ago I was talking to a girl friend; she was telling me all about this dude who’s in some of her classes and how they like to hold hands… My reaction went something like this: “WHAT? You guys hold hands? Just like that? WHY? Do you even like him? Does he like you? Answer me, you little hand-holder slut!”. By my freak out one would think is his dick what she likes to hold on to.

Let me say this, I’m aware my point of view may be a little bit messed up. I’m not defending it… At all.

But why? Why on earth would you like to hold someone’s sweaty palm for a longer period than a handshake? It’s not an spontaneous gesture of love or happiness, you’re not getting any sexual pleasure out of it. I don’t get why someone would even bother… Unless they really like that sweaty palm.

Yours truly,
Lola “I-haven’t-held-hands-with-even-a-third-of-the-guys-
I-have-made-out-with” Dahl

Watch Them Losing Their Brains

2011-03-20T15:46:00.001+01:00

The awkward moment when you find yourself dancing to Mambo No. 5 alone in your room.

Wait… What?

Let’s rewind to last week when, against all odds, I went out on a second date with TooStupidToAskForAFuckingName Guy (who soon will be renamed since it is quite an aggressive/long nickname to carry).

Stage 1. Cool and Nonchalant (true version)

“OMG! We had such a great time. Everything was awesome awesome awesome (three awesomes, that’s serious shit)! He will call eventually, I know it… Meanwhile I’ll just pretend I have a life”

Stage 2. Cool and Nonchalant (fake version)

“It’s been only a few days… He’s such a busy little fella, whatever; no need to even think ab- DUDE! IS THAT A TEXT? No? Ok… Yeah, whatever”

Stage 3. Shame and Doubt

“He thinks I’m retarded. I’m sure. He was talking about computers and I just stood there looking retarded…”

Stage 4. Rage

“Well… What was I supposed to do, then? Solve a quadratic equation in front of him? FUCK THAT!”

Stage 5. Desperation

Muffin: Do you want me to tell my boyfriend to invite your guy into a double date?
Me: Hell no. That would be pathetic… If he wanted to see me he would have called.
Muffin: You realize we are talking about a busy nerd who happens to be shy, right?
The awkward moment when Muffin talks to you as if you were the nut case.
Me: … Fine. Just don’t make me sound desperate, ok? No, you know what? Don’t mention me at all… Don’t tell him you’re doing this for me, tell him-
Muffin: Yo! Calm your tits! (no, she didn’t say that but it would have been funny as hell if she had) I know exactly how to play it.
Text: Tell your friend to call my friend already!
Me: Bitch, are you retarded?

Stage 6. Acceptance

“He’s just another guy, there’s a world full of them. Whatever, really… So what if I die alone? Would it really be that bad? I have a lot of other things to worry about, I don’t need a- FUCK…! Is that a text? IT IS a fucking text!”

Somewhere in between the "I had a very busy week”, “lots of homework”, “my parents came to visit” and "do you want to go out tomorrow?” the 90’s music fever kicked in.

The awkward moment when you think you’re different from the rest of the girls when it comes to guys but realize you were very wrong.

Getting Corny

2011-03-14T18:59:00.001+01:00

My nerves fail me; I’m being defeated by anxiety.
I know I may regret it later.
Today I’m too scared to look for you,
I’m scared I may find you.
I’m scared of your eyes; I’m too scared to talk.
I’m scared I may want to kiss you.
^{I tell myself:
Don’t be stupid.
Don’t be so cynical.
Don’t try to fight it.}Today I’m scared of dancing ~~again~~,
I’m scared you may laugh at me.
I’m scared of people; I don’t want to take control...
I’m scared I may like it.
I’m scared of lies, I don’t have ~~any~~ faith left.
I’m scared I may believe again.

I tell myself:
Don’t be stupid.
Don’t be so cynical.
Don’t try to fight it.
Not everyone is such a bad guy,
Not everything is wrong.
Not everyone is a villain waiting to kill you.
Not everything is lost.

Hoy Tengo Miedo
Fobia

~~I translate the song just for you, kiddos. I’m nice like that.~~

Mothers are Slightly Insane

2011-03-10T14:04:00.001+01:00

Fuck love. Fuck compatibility. Fuck years of building up a relationship.

Little grasshoppers, you can easily tell if you two are going to get married judging just by the story of how you met.

Don’t take my word for it. TV says so. When someone dedicates a six season show just to tell a story of how He met Her, you know He is going to marry that bitch.

My parents, as another example (a real life one), were at a dinner party; my dad spotted my mom surrounded by a lot of “almost daddies”. He asked if anyone was married to her and when the answer was a definite ‘no’, he made room for himself and introductions took place. You see? Totally PG.

What you’ll read next is an example of how things should NOT play out.

INT. RUSTIC HOUSE; LIVING ROOM

The place is quiet.

A man around his late thirties is reading the paper on the couch.

A girl who’s 9 years old and a boy who’s 6 enter the room in the same quiet manner.

GIRL
Dad, you’ve never told us how you and mommy met.

FATHER
(Doesn’t glance at them)
And there’s a very good reason for that, kid.

GIRL
Come on, the neighbors’ kid told us this lovely story of how his parents met!

FATHER
(Places the newspaper down)
The neighbors are a gay couple, sweetie… They are not the biologi- oh, forget it!

Both kids just stare blankly at their father.

FATHER
You really want to hear the story, huh?

GIRL AND BOY
(Unison)
Yes!

FATHER
Fine… Don’t say I didn’t warn you…
(Clears throat)
Mommy and Daddy were… How do I say this nicely? Cuddling… Yes! We were cuddling. Suddenly mommy decided to stop the… cuddling… and said “I know this isn’t exactly the time to ask this but… Do you even know my name?”
(Looks down, ashamed)
Kids, I completely forgot to ask for her name…
(Short pause)
I don’t know if it was the vodka-I mean, mommy’s secret medicine- but she just laughed. Then, she whispered her name, shook my hand and added “Nice to meet you”.

I’m going to rephrase my point: by the story of how you met, you can totally tell who you’re not going to marry… Well, when I put it that way my hypothesis doesn’t sound that impressive.

I’d be too embarrassed to tell this story if the dude wouldn’t have called me the very next day to ask me out on a real date.

Which is today.

Now, if you excuse me, I’m sure Cosmo has an article for a situation just like mine. I need outfit&hair advice. Hey! He may not be Future Mr. Dahl, but I still want to look hot, ok? Take it as a public service.

“He Don’t” and “She Don’t”

2011-03-08T12:58:00.001+01:00

Dear Girl-Who-Took-My-Muffin-When-I-Was-Desperately-Trying-To-Get-Rid-of-You-And-Who-From-Now-On-I’ll-Simply-Refer-As-‘Muffin’:

It’s not obvious, since I always act annoyed when I’m around you (and, sadly, I’m not faking it in any way) but deep down I do like you… You can blame that on the fact that you’re so annoying that you’re amusing added to the way you hold on so hard to me. I guess, what I’m trying to say is that I kinda care about you, Muffin. So, I felt the need to write this letter.

Trusting a guy who you just started going out with may not be the easiest thing to do, I know. I also know insanity always makes sense to the insane… That’s why I’m here for, to tell you it DOESN’T make sense; you’re, in fact, fucking losing it.

I attached a transcript of our last phone call, in hopes it opens up your eyes.

You: I just heard you met my boyfriend last night.
Me: I did?
You: Yep, on that party I couldn’t go to.
Me: Who was he?
You: A blonde dude; he told me you talked.
Me: I don’t remember a blonde guy.
You: Ok, he’s sandy.
Me: I don’t remember a sandy guy either.
You: Make an effort. He told me he talked to you and I need to know if he respects me.
Me: … If he respects you?
You: Yeah, I mean, how did he act?
Me: I’m telling you I don’t remember him.
You: You guys talked!
Me: I’m hearing you and I don’t mean to sound like I’m the shit or anything but I talked to a lot of guys at that party.
You: Try to remember… I couldn’t go that party and I need to know how does he act when I’m not around.
Me: Would it make you feel any better if I tell you not a single guy grabbed my ass…? That includes him.
You: Of course he’s not going to grab your ass, he knows who you are! I’m talking about other girls’ asses.

[That’s all I got… I stopped making notes the moment I notice you weren’t kidding]

You now see it, right?

Love,
Lola “Hopes-When-She-Does-Get-A-Boyfriend-Doesn’t-End-Up-Acting-Just-Like-You-Are-Because-It-Would-Be-Totally-Embarrassing” Dahl

Ps. If you keep this behavior going I may be forced to call your little boyfriend and yell “ABORT MISSION!” until he gets the point; for his own sake as much as for yours.

Only Very Sexy Stuff Interested Him

2011-03-04T10:41:00.001+01:00

Some questions were a bit similar, I chose to answer one of its kind.
I’m smart like that.

Lube, check.
Tissues, check.
Crucifix, check.
Let’s do this shit…

What are you wearing right now?
Nothing, master ;)

In one of your entries you talked about how a girl can just ask a stranger to have sex and his answer will be yes. Since reading your blog made me think of you like a nymphomaniac in a dry spell, what would you do if a guy comes up to you and just plainly asks if you want to have sex?
Is that guy Rupert Grint…? He is, isn’t he? :D
The truth is… I do have more sex rules for myself than I’d wish for.

If we had sex around 5-7 times a week, and about 3 of those times were quickies in which you didn't get off, would you be displeased, somewhat pleased, pleased, very pleased or ecstatic? and why?
…My answer would be “ecstatic”, I want my guy to be unable to keep his hands off me.

If you had a detachable fully-functioning penis, what would you do with it?
Jack off as if my life depended on it… Then, maybe, I’d bake an apple pie and fuck it.

The most random place where you had sex?
I was such a horny teenager (who wasn’t, right?) I had sex in so many random places, the weirdest one ended up being a comfortable bed…
Whatever, those random places included: A fitting room, woods, cinema, dark alley, my porch at night.

You are in an art studio and there is a nude female model on a pedestal in front of you. She has her back to you at first while you take your seat and lay out your canvas and charcoal pencils. When she turns to face you and assumes her pose, you are blown away by the similarities you share with her body. You study her naked form more closely as you begin to draw and find yourself getting strangely attracted to her. You wonder if it is because she is identical to you from the neck down. You are so fascinated with this woman's body and your experience that you decide to write down every detail that you were unable to capture in your drawing.What do you write?
I would be too busy fucking her brains out to write a thing.

Were you bi-curious?
Was I? I guess so… Women are beautiful and sexy as fuck, no room for doubt there. I still prefer cocks.

You have to give your opinion on pubic hair, and if/how/when/why you decided to change yours (why, especially with regards to boyfriends vs media, being the fun part).
I like it better when guys shave their balls, then I won’t have to pick hairs off my tongue.
I waxed for the first time to surprise my ex, I keep doing it ever since because I really feel waaay more confortable and clean that way. Besides, I don’t want to give guys an excuse to not go down on me. Even if, right now, the only guy going down on me is my vibrator and he doesn’t have the option to refuse.

Pill and/or condom and/or what?
Condom… I’m thinking about going on the pill, though. Yes, I’m afraid my vibrator may knock me up, shut up!

What is your favorite sex position?
Any kind of sex? Lying on whatever with a guy’s head between my legs. Intercourse wise, doggy style.

Spit or swallow? *Fun Fact: This was the most asked question.
I’ll just say all those nutrition facts better be true…

What was the best sex session you had, how was it different than normal?
I guess when my then-boyfriend and I went to a motel… Simple, it was comfortable and I didn’t have to worry about any of our parents interrupting us.

What was the most awkward sexual situation you have been in?
Any time I had to keep a poker face on when my parents came into the living room and my then-boyfriend had to hide his erection under a pillow.

What exactly are your sexual complexes?
I asked and googled a definition for sexual complexes… I still have no idea in which direction should I go; complex as if I’m attracted to my father…? if I’m ashamed of the taste of my pussy…? or if I like to suck on toes…?
Since I have no idea what you meant I’ll just tell you something weird about myself… you like that, huh? I don’t know if it’s a feminist thing but I have a hard time fantasizing about guys being rough on me. If I’m in the mood for a little s&m, I have to picture myself with another woman.

What do you find the sexiest part of a man is?
Eyes… Tongue… Arms… Shoulders… Smile… Abs…

What do you find the sexiest part of a woman is?
Eyes, boobies, lips and butt.

Cuddle or "get off!"?
I’ll cuddle the shit out of him! <3

Would you suck an asian penis?
Is there a nice guy attached to it…? Or is it a walking penis made in Asia?

How was the first time you had sex?
I, seriously, did so much shit with a penis before one actually touch my vagina that it wasn’t that big of a deal for me… It did hurt, though… It hurt as hell.

Have you tried anal, what is your opinion on it?
Yes.
My review? Well, it’s not ‘that bad’… That’s about it. Every time I did it my backdoor didn’t function properly for the rest of the day.

Where do you draw the line when it comes to sex experimentation?
No one will ever pee on me, nor will I pee on somebody else… There’s my line right there.

Pearl rabbit or Tantus Hoss?
I just googled the Tantus… That shit is graphic! I will choose the Rabbit, because it’s pink and pretty.

Would you ever consider taking money for sex?
I’ve never seen myself in such a desperate position… I wouldn’t know. Although, my answer right now would be a big no.
Or giving money for sex? (with an extremely handsome guy that you can't get into bed otherwise?)
This will definitely be no. More than half of the fun (for me) is feeling desired; I want the guy to be thinking “Holy shit, dude, I’m banging her! Holy fucking shit!”… Without that, it’s just not worth it.
(I guess we just found another “limit” of mine, good job, you!)

Have you ever done webcam sex?
Funny you ask… It was my first kind of sex.
I’m too old for that shit now, though.

What are your wildest fantasies?
Threesome with a guy and a lesbian…
I wouldn’t say no to a threesome with two guys, though.
And, I guess, a heterosexual couple would work too but the girl must be more interested in me…. I JUST FUCKING WANT ATTENTION, OK!?

What's the kinkiest thing you've ever done?
Telling a bunch of strangers about my sexual life.

Why are you so beautiful?

Are your friends and classmates aware of this blog where they can actually read about your sexual life and preferences? If so, then based on that information, they could take some certain actions to quickly get between your legs (or should I say to win your love). Or, let's put it upside down - do you aim at that by blogging here?
Are you asking me if I started a blog to get laid? Why didn’t I think of that?
No. They have no idea I’m a secret blogger *evil laugh*

David Copperfield Kind of Crap

2011-02-28T22:18:00.001+01:00

Do you hate puppies?
Not even a little bit… Actually, if I could give birth to puppies instead of babies I would be fucking every night without a condom.

Where are you going to be in 10 years?
Not underground… I hope. Other than that, I don’t care.

Is the Riemann hypothesis correct?
Well, the answer to that question is quite obvious, isn’t?

Am i supposed to type in a question here?
Yeah. There… There… Just like that… Yeah… Don’t stop typing.

In your blog description you state that you, the author "...pretends to have daddy issues...". Would you please elaborate? How do you do this? Why do you do it? What is an example of what you have gained from it. Has it led you to being attracted to older men? Heh.
A girl with daddy issues, due to the lack of attention she got from her father seeks approval from guys, sleeping with them, for example. What I meant was that I fuck guys with the false excuse that I need male attention. It was a joke… I swear.
Older men…? I do think Hugh Laurie is effing hot.

If you could meet any one of your followers, who would it be?
Mommy doesn’t play favorites.

If it’s not your real name, where did ‘Lola Dahl’ come from?
Boring Story Alert!
Lola, from the song La Lola by Café Quijano, which describes a girl who went from bed to bed without finding a guy who truly cared. I don’t necessarily relate but I find it tragically fascinating.
When I first started the blog I had this crush on an actor called Tony Dalton, I liked his last name but I preferred to shorten it down to Dal. The Matches first album is: E. Von Dahl killed The Locals; I decided to add an ‘h’.

(5/y-3) = 1 + (y+7)/(2y-6)

I'm not sure if you do speak spanish and are half spanish half mexican....
A Mexican dude fell in love with a Spanish hottie… They decided (through a process there’s no need to explain, because ew!) to bring children into this world and teach them their mother language.
So, yes… All of the above.

Are you a social experiment or some personality digital test for customers? 'cause I can't believe there's a girl like you promise to be
The Chili&Rice Project is non-profit organization created to make un-tanned nerds and 71 year-old-creeps feel good about themselves through the image of a young lady who would fuck them hard and not ask to be called back.

In all seriousness… Here goes a life-lesson, kiddo: No matter how good she looks, someone somewhere is tired of her shit.

If you could say one thing to Rupert Grint (or any other celebrity for that matter, but I figured you'd pick Ruppie anyway) what would you say?
OMG!!!111!1 MARRY ME!1!!11!one! :'D

Are you fat?
Big boned, BIG BONED!

Are you lesbian?
For Megan Fox/Rachel McAdams/Anne Hathaway I would be.

The thing that annoys you the most?
I’m easily annoyed… If I have to pick one I’d say very loud people who aren’t even funny.

I don't know if you've addressed the difference in the way people dress on the street and at parties, between the two continents. Going regularly between the US and France, teenage girls in the US scare me by dressing so much more trampy than what I see in France.
I wouldn’t say that the difference between Mexico’s and Spain’s fashion would be trashy and elegant… More like, urban and sophisticated. Let’s just say you see way more jeans over there.

Do you like pie? :D
It depends on what kind of pie… But yeah, I’d say pies and I have a pretty good thing going on.

Where's the weirdest place you've ever pee'd?
Train tracks. In Madrid. In front of my best friend. At 16. Drunk. Of course.

Do you prefer a warm oil massage or bare dry hands?
Lube is always appreciated.

Favorites
Ideal pet?
Platypus <33 Bitches love platypuses.
Favorite hobby?
…Blogging.
What is your favorite chili?
Penises.

A quickie on favorites: Pale pink. Oviedo(Spain). Piña Colada. Spaghettis. Titanic. Harry Potter books. Every Breath You Take by The Police.

Not Real Questions
I know what you really look like!
http://tinyurl.com/4erj8l7
Damn! You got me… I’m actually a 12 year-old dude who poses as a 20 year-old girl using pictures of her incredible beautiful sister. Give me money and I’ll send you her panties!

cookies.
WHERE!?

You may be wondering where are all the naughty questions I promised. It turns out a lot of people on the internet care about the sexual life of a college girl (shocking!) so it needed its own entry. If your little hearts desire it, you can still submit questions ~~here~~ but (I can’t believe I’m actually saying this) they have to be sex related since that’s the topic…

I’ll be back with all the dirt ;)

If You Want to Know the Truth

2011-02-25T00:03:00.001+01:00

You know you’re spending way too much time around attention whores when the idea of answering random stranger’s questions sound like the most fun a girl could have.

So, that’s what I’m doing… Of course I need random strangers for that and who’s more random than you, beautiful-person-reading-this?

~~Click Here, YouSexyThing~~

Anonymous, nice and easy… Just like me.

If I haven’t convince you yet, let me tell you a little story…

My parents have always been very busy people and my two big brothers are overachievers; I’ve spent my whole life seeking attention and recognition that just doesn’t come… No matter what I accomplish, it will not be a big deal at home, because my brothers will probably do it first. School wasn’t any better, I wasn’t very attractive while growing up and, also, kind of a loser… I wouldn’t be surprised if half of the kids I went to Jr. High with don’t even remember me anymore. Internet is like home for me, people actually listen to what I have to say; just knowing that someone out there cares enough to ask about me means the world to me… It really makes up for the attention I always lack of.

That you just read was, of course, bullshit. I had a very happy childhood, being not only the youngest of three but the only girl gave me more attention that I could handle… I’m just aware sob stories make awesome marketing.

So, just for the hell of it, ask whatever you want. Stupid and naughty questions are not only acceptable but encouraged. I’ll make an entry answering every single question the best way I can.

If this still doesn’t sound fun enough for you, here’s a puppy:

You can’t say no to a puppy.

All I Ever Meet is Witty Bastards

2011-02-21T20:22:00.001+01:00

Time to introduce a new character to this monotonous life of mine. Say hi to Obnoxious Little Smart-Ass; since it’s such a long name I’ll stick to calling her Ass Girl (hopefully she will get the wrong kind of reputation.)

From the moment I met Ass Girl I knew we wouldn’t be trading BFF bracelets any time soon. While everybody around me was going gaga about tequila, Mexican guys and Mexican accent she interrupted my 5 minutes of fame to make a very important announcement: “I never cared for accents… They just sound wrong to me, as if they can’t articulate words correctly”. She still parades such close-minded behavior by correcting me, constantly, on my spanish; while it is easy to ignore, I do regret not having a penis just to have something to shove down her throat and make her stop talking.

Believe it or not, that’s not her worst trait…

Ass Girl is the kind of person who doesn’t understand how come she’s not running her own little country by now; after all, from the moment she popped out of her mother’s vagina she knew everything there’s to know about everything.

She would hate this but she’s not even special… The world is full of conceited people. The awful thing about these creatures is that most of them have something to be conceited about. They are either talented, well-read or (in Ass Girl case) both. People often call them smart.

Since I’m being forced to coexist with this dudette, I learned intelligent people are not the ones who can recite an old painting’s author and date, or resolve complex physic problems in a small amounts of time… They are the ones who, on top of every amazing thing they may be able to do, know when the hell to shut up.

I’ll be the first one to blame my unfriendly thoughts on jealousy. Still, there are fascinating people who I not so secretly envy that don’t make me want to slap them... Hard.

The Same Songs

2011-02-19T13:04:00.001+01:00

This entry goes out to my good friends
Especially the ones I had before High School Graduation of 2007
And to all the boys back in Jr. High
Who actually spoke to me,
Even though I was a fat girl and a really annoying geek.

I hope this entry finds them well
And I hope they’re doing fucking swell.
I hope that they’re back up if they’ve ever been down.
And I hope they’re working on getting the fuck out of our hometown.

Here comes a shout-out to all my teachers
Who thought I had ability at writing,
And told me I’d make it far.
And to that one who thought I couldn’t write for shit,
To her, who even mocked my stuff,
For giving me the edge to prove her ~~wrong~~.

This entry goes out to my big brother,
For putting up with me following him around,
And for making me smile when things at school weren’t great,
For not getting mad when ~~I infest~~ his computer with Trojans.
For taking me to the mall when I still couldn’t drive.
For telling me the guy who rejected me was ugly anyway.
For hand-me-down electronics and a Planet Hollywood T’s
And for never beating the shit out of me.

I hope this entry finds him well,
And I hope that he’s doing fucking swell.
I hope that he’s back up cause ~~I know~~ he has been down,
I just wish he’d get the fuck out of our hometown.

I’m so glad I got the fuck out of my hometown.

Inspired by:
My Hometown–Bowling For Soup

Me, Myself and I

2011-02-13T15:47:00.001+01:00

For the first time, since I was 16, I’m spending a Valentine’s Day single.

I’m not even mad!

People Never Notice Anything

2011-02-07T14:10:00.001+01:00

Simple as this: not having a younger sibling gave me no chance to develop the very useful “GET THE FUCK OUT MY ROOM!” attitude. Judging by the fact that I grew up with two older brothers it’s easy to figure out who was the victim of those snaps.

I have no idea how I come off on this blog; I just want to clarify I don’t have that teenage complex titled ‘People suck’. I do like human beings, my problem is that most of them annoy the hell out of me when we’re forced to spend more than an hour alone. That’s normal, right?

So, for all those unfortunates like me who didn’t have a younger brother/sister to practice on, I offer you my super useful guide to get rid of the undesirables.

1. Implicit step*

2. Tell him/her you honestly don’t want company.

What I did here is throw my friend little hints like: “You know… I’m a bit tired” and “I don’t have much else to say right now, how about if we keep discussing this at dinner?”.

Beware: Some people are way too dumb to get hints.

3. Make yourself look busy (outside help may be needed).

I made what I thought was a bulletproof plan. Through my cellphone I asked a friend to get online and asked to talk to me privately.

Beware: It could totally backfired and get this reaction: “OMG! Is he cute? What do you think it could be? OMG! You think he may tell you he likes you? OMG! OMG! Answer him! Ok, I will do it for you [typing] Yes, yes, talk to me”

4. Offer them something in return.

The desperate choice. Have you ever found yourself throwing food at your opposite direction just to free yourself from some irritating animal? Well… This is exactly like that.

You have something they want? A chocolate muffin, perhaps?Just when she was about to give the first bite I shriek “Oh, hon, no! You can’t eat it here, I just cleaned…”

She picked the muffin over me and I was totally okay with that.

Beware: You will be left muffinless.

*Accept the fact that you’re going to die alone.

Enough Education to Hate People

2011-02-03T13:18:00.001+01:00

Back in college after a long and not-so-well-deserved break.

I’m not even going to pretend I was ready to come back… I guess I needed to, though. Apparently, school gave me the ability to speak my mind, which now I have forgotten.

If you don’t believe me, let me show it to you in an easy guide I’ve decided to name: Crap I should’ve said.

Exhibit A. Saying goodbye to The Teenager the night before coming back.

Teenager: So… Well… Have a good trip and… Good luck.

Crap I should’ve said: Just so you know, you’ve really grown on me (not in a dirty way, for Christ sake)… And since I care about you I have the need to apologize for every time I’ve made you feel uncomfortable; I guess it’s hard for me to remember your age sometimes, since you have brains and balls a lot of older guys don’t.

What I did say: Aw, thanks! See you!

Exhibit B. Confessing to The Roommate how much I didn’t want to come back right after he found me crying on the living room (talk about making guys feel uncomfortable, right?)

Roommate: I honestly think you should stop being such a pussy, little grasshopper. I’m sorry I have to say it like that but you can’t be so weak. It’s not so bad.

Crap I should’ve said: I’m sorry… “So weak”? Why? I’m not giving up in any way, I’m not going back to Mexico or dropping out just to move in with you and my brother. I’m going back and do my best over there. I was just whining a little bit before you and your dick interrupted me.

What I did say: Yeah… I guess so.

Exhibit C. On my way to the faculty along with a few classmates, including a couple of girls who know about The Teenager.

One of Them: How is your 16 year old doing?

Me: Could you not call him like that in public? Please… Use his name, I don’t care.

OoT: No. I like the fact that he's 16, it’s adorable.

Crap I should’ve said: What I think is adorable is the fact that you’re a cock-teaser who got stood up for a bald girl and made up with a loser just to get revenge but you don’t see me saying it out loud, do you, virgin?

What I did say: Whatever, dude.

Exhibit D. The second worst feeling after the one you get for failing a final is telling people you failed a final.

Classmate: How did you do in math?

Me: I failed… I was expecting it, though… You?

Classmate: I passed, I know right? It was such a surprise, really. I guess it’s because I answered every single question… I don’t know. I passed every single course, I can’t believe it.

Crap I should’ve said: I hope you get fucked in the ass without lube.

What I did say: Wow… Congratulations… I’m so happy for you.

It isn’t Educational. It’s History. It’s Poetry.

2011-01-29T02:52:00.001+01:00

I have this theory… Or philosophy… Or maybe even mental deficiency, who knows; I can’t take seriously long time unrequited love.

Basically I take my set of beliefs about the subject from my very uneventful life and the frail view of love one develops at the age of 12.

Here we go.

In Jr. High I fell for my best friend. I take this as my first ‘serious’ crush since it wasn’t the typical “OMG! He’s like so beautiful and popular, why doesn’t he know I exist…?” He was a very nice, smart, funny and average looking fella. Big mistake: I took his kindness as a sign of interest (you have all been there, right?). That marked the beginning of an almost 3 year obsession in which I thought he would wake up one day realizing how much he loved me.

Of course it was hard. If there was still some dignity in me I would avoid telling you about all those times I pictured him hugging me (aw… Don’t we all miss those days when a hug was erotic enough?), moments later I used to find myself sobbing “why doesn’t he like me?” No. I’m not kidding.

A bit more than 2 years had to pass for me to be emotional exhausted. I felt like I had tried everything to make him noticed me. Everything but actually telling him. So, I did. Good thing I wasn’t expecting much because his first reaction was: Oh… Yes. I already knew that.

A charmer, that one.

Still, best thing I could have done. It was such a relief to not have this “what if…?” weight on my back that getting over him was relatively easy. Again, best thing I could have done. Gotta love that feeling of “Wow! So there’s actually a world full of boys?”. I swear, to make up for those lost years, from the age of 14 to 16 my heart became a two-dollar whore.

After six years, a couple of princes and a bunch of dicks (and by dicks I mean jerks, not actual penises… Ok, I guess there were some penises), I realize how meaningless my love for that guy was; I don’t mean it in a rude way, I still talk to him and he’s truly a nice guy.

You can disagree with me on this one but I believe you can’t develop true romantic feelings for a person without being in a committed relationship. There’s a bunch of bullshit and baggage one doesn’t unpack until he/she is settled in. Worse goes for the youngsters, which was my case. I’ll talk just for myself here; I was clueless on what was I looking for in a guy, which is expected at that age, problem came when my obsession convinced me he was everything I was looking for.

Point being: Years of longing mean years of expectations. With a corny pop song as my background music I used to lay on my bed creating inside my pretty little head these stuffy conversations, adventures, jokes and declarations of eternal love… Basically, what I still do now every time I have a crush. Main difference lays on the amount of time creating this image. Two years gave me the chance to transform this little fucker into a man who was outrageous, witty, liked piña coladas and getting caught in the rain. Even though he still is a wonderful dude, I know for a fact he’s not one of those things… He wouldn’t have even got the joke.

I want to say ‘point being’, but I already went for that one, so… Conclusion: No matter how super duper awesome a person is, no one can live up to the standards of so many years of expectations.

I got a great thing out of this situation: A subject for my blog… Yes, of course I’m kidding, what I meant was my repulsion for unrequited love. I may let a guy mess with me in a bunch of ways, but if I notice a sign of disinterest I run away as fast as I can. Someone who doesn’t laugh at my jokes, who doesn’t think my stories are interesting or my perspective on life is fascinating… Or doesn’t want to fuck me every hour, every minute, every day sounds like a bore to me, and definitely not someone I want to be with.

This blog won’t become a self-help crap thing. I just want to share my probably only worth of your time advice: Don’t fall for someone who doesn’t think you’re the shit, it’s not even worth it.

Horse Manure

2011-01-23T19:48:00.001+01:00

Never do things half way; there’s no fun in being mediocre.

Take me for example, if I’m staying in a stuck-up college dorm… I’m going to stay in the most stuck-up bitch’s dorm of all: all chicks, no guys allowed, hot healthy meals and strict curfews.

Now.

During my school break, you know I had to take the opposite track: Brother’s apartment (couch, as an added detail), just-dudes’ place with a fridge full of beers and pizza left-overs.

This place is a cliché of what guys living together means. Let’s put it this way:

I chose one of two bathrooms to keep relatively clean, when I’m forced to use the other one, I’m honestly afraid of catching an STD…
The kitchen… The damn kitchen is always sticky.
Don’t even get me started on the countless times I had to pop my head out the window facing a 0°C (32°F) degree weather just to get away from that mixed smell of pot and sweat.

Dirt, of course, is not the only thing that rules this joke-to-the-health-regulation-system apartment. Let me rephrase… It’s not the only kind of “dirty” going on. I think I make a pretty clear image of what this place is all about just by saying that a few days ago I was woken up by the moans of a 17 year-old girl. Far from me to criticize which teenagers should or should not have sex here; I think there’s a time and place for everything, 8am on a school day is definitely not the time at all.

Funny. I just got to the point where I don’t even care how these thin walls have made it so easy for me to hear everyone who lives here going at it. Yes, of course that includes my brother.

Whatever. Boys will be boys.

I just celebrated my womanhood performing on myself a Brazilian wax and going pantie shopping… I’m not even planning on getting laid, I did it for the estrogen rush.

Where Did the Ducks Go?

2011-01-17T16:43:00.002+01:00

At first, I was a bit ashamed with my sudden adoration for teenagers (and I mean all kinds, not just the male types)… A short Gossip Girl promo was all I needed to realize we all have this fascination with them; those shows wouldn’t be so popular without our sickening need to watch kids be disappointed by life.

Sometimes I feel like I should paid The Teenage Boy for every appearance he makes in my blog, then I remember I’m not earning a damn with this hobby of mine so I scratch the idea. Don’t worry, dudes, you don’t have to call child services… I’m no longer screwing with the poor bastard; we actually get along great lately (and very innocently, may I add).

Looking for some cheap entertainment, just a few days ago, he watched me waste my precious time on my laptop; mistaking that with an actual ability he asked me why was I studying architecture while my interest were clearly somewhere else. I had a hard time explaining how some career paths are a bit too “frail” for some people to pursue; he didn’t have a hard time at all to answer me with a “You should major in what you love, no matter what other people say”.

Now, I’m happy for you, people, who from the start wanted to be a ‘doctor’ or ‘mechanical engineer’, I’m sorry I’m not one of you. And here comes a shout-out to you, people, who love music or fashion and majored in that subject… I’m sorry I’m not one of you either.

It goes without saying how much it pained me to tell him the issue is more complex than that, specially since he reminds me a little bit of myself when I was his age. I was going to become a graphic designer and nobody was going to stop me; apparently ‘nobody’ was me, the day I hit 18 and high school was over.

“Architecture is a career based on design” I explained in an almost mechanical voice “If I can design in 3D I’ll easily design in 2D… I guess I took something I loved and I alter it into a secure path”. I’m not sure if he bought that.

Never mind that… There are youngsters with more serious issues.

I noticed my blog suffered some serious lack of estrogen… Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce you to The Teenage Girl. In case I’ve lost some of you along the way, let’s remember some old characters. I have a brother, my brother has two roommates: The Hot One (yum…), The Other One (I’m not even sure I like him as a person). The Other One (who’s 21, for the record) has The Teenage Boy as a best friend and is now dating a 16 year-old girl aka ‘The Teenage Girl’ (but seriously, who the fuck am I to judge, right?).

The Teenage Girl, where could I begin? She’s a cheap horror movie waiting to happen. Two dates were enough for this girl to believe it was alright to tell the guy she was falling in love with him… And to call him uncontrollably the very next day. When he stopped answering his phone, she started calling mine.I don’t even want to know how she got it. He pleaded me to tell her he wasn’t home, I told him that if I picked up that phone my only words would be: Bitch, pull yourself together. So it was better for everyone if I stayed out of it.

I’m getting ahead on birthday presents right now, so you will have to excuse me while I look on Amazon for some copies of “He’s Not That Into You” and “Kid, Just do Whatever the Hell You Want. Don’t Listen to that Twat…She’s 20, What the Fuck She Actually Knows About the Real World?”

Don’t Tell Anybody Anything

2011-01-10T23:38:00.001+01:00

Not that long ago I received an email from someone who clearly wasn’t a fan asking me (and I quote): “Ever thought about why you soulstrip?”

Needless to say, I was prepared for answering in the most respectful (and I’m not even being sarcastic here) and cliché way possible how much I enjoy writing~~, especially about myself.~~ Then, I realized my answer would be invalid, simple because I don’t ‘soulstrip.’

Is writing about awkward purchases of vibrators, sexual fantasies regarding my brother’s roommate and my low patience for women’s common behavior suddenly soulstripping? Are you sure about that?

Let me show you how is done, bitch.

Most people won’t understand this, but one of the things I miss the most is my dog. I was there when she was born and from that point is the closest I have to a child. With people I can tell them how much I miss them, my dog probably thought I abandoned her and forgot about me.
I miss everything, everyone, all the freaking time.
It’s been almost a year since I broke up with my boyfriend. Every time I’m with somebody else I feel as if I’m cheating on him.
I just had my math final. I’m pretty fucking sure I failed, even though I studied for weeks. I’m wondering if I have some kind of mental retardation that hasn’t been diagnosed.

I’m not even going to pretend these are real problems, however, it’s stuff close to my heart. Point being, if my objective with this blog was to strip my soul, I’d talk about “deep” shit, not about the dirty thoughts I have when I masturbate; partly because (to quote NOFX) “why think of all the bad things when life is so good?”, but mostly because: soulstripping, just like regular stripping, unless you do it to someone you share intimacy with or you’re getting paid for… It’s just not worth it.

Special Kind of Fall, a Horrible Kind

2011-01-07T21:19:00.001+01:00

The girl is not green
But she’s got no clue
What they’re whispering about her.
She’s got no clue.
She’s never quite sure what to do,
With her hands,
In social situations.
She’s so sick of herself sometimes,
Leaves her stomach
Inside a bathroom stall.

A Girl I Know
The Matches

Details later… If I’m still alive by January 10th. You see, my math final may have killed my wit, but I won’t lose my sense to dramatize.

I’ll take off my Christmas ornaments when I get the chance, too.

A Rude Bastard

2011-01-03T02:40:00.002+01:00

If you liked “The Teenage Boy and the Adventures of the Penis” you’re definitely going to love the sequel: “The Teenage Boy and The Girl Wh0’s Going to Cut His Balls Off”.

The other night I spent a very pleasant couple of hours watching “500 Days of Summer” with The Teenager, afterwards we talked about me being an architect and he wanting to be something of that sort since he loves drawing. He then proceeded to draw me some very un-profound shit and confessed me he wanted to be a Super Saiyan when he was 5. The niceness of the night was cut up short when I offer him a quickie and he told me “He wasn’t in the mood”.

You will tell me if I’m blowing this out of proportions, but what kind of 16-year-old boy is not in the mood for sex? I’d have to be some kind of leper for that to happened… And that’s a very low blow to my self-esteem.

Next day, when my brother saw my bloodshot eyes asked me what was wrong; I told him I was very stressed with my upcoming Math final. Not very convinced he assured I was the smartest little fucker in the family and shouldn’t be worried about it. Then I decided to lie (kinda). I said (and this is a true story, after all) last night his roommate (NOT the cute one, he’s the sweetest) took a look to some one or two year-old pictures of mine and told me I used to be way prettier and skinnier, something that normally wouldn’t bother me that much but right now was the last thing I needed… I’ll just paraphrase my brother here: “What does that idiot know? Is he remotely perfect now? Maybe if he was someone who mattered, but him? He’s just pathetic and ugly as fuck”.

I had to lie, you know that, right? I may not be thrown to jail for fucking the kid, but my brother would surely for killing him… And even if it wasn’t that what bothered me, for all intents and purposes it served the same effect. I just had to pretend my bother was talking about The Teenager to make myself feel all better.

Really… Why should I care if he didn’t want to fuck me? He didn't last more than a minute inside me before cumming (yes, I just went there…) and thought my Lolita (and I just named my pussy) was some kind of lottery ticket meant to be scratched.

…

See, there’s a point when people say being with a younger guy makes you feel younger… But at the age of 20 is just sad to be acting like a 15 year-old: resting my self-esteem on the hands of someone else and worse, bashing him over the internet. If I still have felt my own age I’d had remember how awful being 16 was, since one spends half of the time being mad at the world and the other half mad at oneself, which is already hard enough without someone 4 years older pressuring into having sex… ~~That, and: Any guy who doesn’t think I’m the shit is just useless for his lack of taste…~~.Yes, yes, yes, if it means that much to you, I’ll apologize to the damn kid.

Practically Children

2010-12-31T03:28:00.002+01:00

Don’t let high school labels fool you, there are only two kinds of teenagers: teenage girls and teenage boys, and they are both made of the same image issues, raging sexuality and dramatic mood swings.

Exhibit A: The Teenage Girl and the Eternal PMS.

Long has been since my younger cousin rocked to the Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs tune; the only rocking going on nowadays takes place inside a lockdown room which she rarely leaves. During this Christmas break, I only say my 14 year-old cousin at dinner time; there, she just looked disgusted at her plate of food. She took two bites, her mother accused her of not eating right and hell broke lose, just like every single night: You just don’t see me eat, and what you don’t see must not happen, RIGHT? It’s always the same with you! I can’t take this anymore! Just leave me alone! I HATE YOU ALL!!

Don’t worry about us, though; my family has already survived four teenagers (and last one was me. Believe me, I wasn’t the adorable snowflake I am now). We just dedicated her half a minute of silence until someone cracked a joke.

Exhibit B: The Teenage Boy and the Adventures of the Penis.

One of my best stories. Kids, this is the story of how I discovered 16 year olds are adorable.

My big brother has a second roommate, who I haven’t mentioned because there’s nothing exciting to him… Other than having a rather cute 16 year old best friend. I could tell you the story of how our friendship blossomed but it’s generic as shit: we didn’t know each other, we talked and we got along great. ~~You won’t believe me, but he truly doesn’t look or act as a 16 year old.~~ Just a week ago I decided I had the hots for him (just like that, I’m very uncomplicated) and thought “this isn’t even a challenge”.

It wasn’t… And before I go on, legal age in Spain is 13. Look it up if you don’t believe me!

I swear I was planning of writing how incredibly ~~adorable~~ interesting it all was… But even I have my limits, and this kid’s integrity is one. I will, however, tell you two things: 1)I walked out feeling like all these years I knew moves not even Hugh Hefner dreams of and I wasn’t even aware of it. (OMG! What if I did invent blowjobs?) 2) It ended in a very cliché way: He smoking a joint while telling me what a goody goody he thought I was. If I had a nickel for ever time a guy has ever told me that… I’d have like two or three nickels, whatever.

Angels start Coming Out of their Boxes

2010-12-24T04:42:00.002+01:00

Of all the things I rant about, Christmas is not one of them. Sometimes, when I’m in the mood, I even defend it from cynics. I heart Christmas.

I don’t get all the hate, really. I get it from teenagers, if they already hate themselves, poor little Christmas doesn’t even stand a chance. I’m pretty sure adults have different reasons to hate it; it’s one specific reason I don’t understand, probably the most in fashion nowadays: because it’s special.

People always bitch about the rest of us being hypocrites on Christmas; we are nicer, spend money we don’t have and make painful attempts to cook. Well, fuck yeah, we are. We are filthy hypocrites… So what? What would be the fun of the Holidays if we just did the same things we do on a daily routine?

A romantic may say we should be nice to each other the rest of the year. Yes, that’s very cute and I agree, but is that poor Christmas fault? I don’t hate Halloween because I don’t get to wear a costume the rest of the year and I surely don’t hate my birthday because people don’t give me presents the rest of the year. If someone is following my train of thought, what we should really hate is “the rest of the year”. Fuck “the rest of the year”.

The truth is, for the average person, being grateful, generous and lovable all freaking year is exhausting.

I can’t talk for everybody here. I find myself, most of the year, complaining about my dad treating me as if I still was a five-year-old, my mom’s endless list of questions, one brother’s lack of contact and other’s constant nagging , female friends’ slutty ways and male friends’ crappy jokes… I’m glad there’s a date when I’m pushed to face how much my life would suck without them.

Happy Holidays,
you filthy hypocrite.

Sensitive as a Goddam Toilet Seat

2010-12-16T02:07:00.003+01:00

Remember my brother’s roommate? You know, The Roommate… The one I had such a pathetic crush on? Well, this entry is not about him.

(However, if you were wondering how that was going… We are passed that awkward stage and we now get along great. Every time I visit their apartment we stay late watching movies and talking. My brother even gave him permission to fart in front of me; permission he haven’t use yet, but he seemed rather excited about it. As if I didn’t have enough handling my brother’s delicate stomach… This entry is not about that, either)

Before I start with my real topic, I’m going to set this straight: I always try to write in a “general matter”, without mentioning anybody in particular; it seems like the nice thing to do, and you know me, I’m polite and shit. Since this is something of a “sensible topic” I have to make it personal, if not, it’d just seem like I think a lot of girls suffer from this complex.

I have two female friends that are very different from each other; different age, nationality, appearance and general attitude. They do, however, have something in common ~~(aside from having boobs and a vagina… huh… See? This is why people can’t take me seriously);~~ when I told them about The Roommate and how gorgeous and nice he was, I finalized adding with a defeated sigh “but he has a girlfriend”. Both of them answered me with a “So what…?”.

This is the moment where I warn you that I’m about to make a big deal about nothing, but I’m guessing you’re a recurring blog reader and you’re pretty much aware that’s what personal blogs are all about.

Well, I think those few words speak very low of both of them. The more I thought about it, the more I realized they’re weren’t that different from each other. First, I’m going to answer their stupid question with a simple ‘ There’s another woman involved, you selfish bitch’. Apparently all that ‘Girl Power” we like to brag so much about disappears when there’s guy in the picture.

In their sweet little minds, once the panties are off, dudes forget about everything else, including that things they call girlfriends. If you really think about it, it’s sad. That set of beliefs is still there because more than one guy has reinforce it. Of course I’ve met jerks, the world is full of them, but I’ve also met incredible guys. That includes my two big brothers (who are, both, currently very much in love) and my exboyfriend, that I always knew (except when I was PMSing) he loved me and respected me. Call me naïve, but I’m pretty sure that, even if he’s given the chance to cheat, not every guy will take it. That’s why ‘having a girlfriend’ is pretty much a deal breaker for me.

Maybe it’s because these two friends know I enjoy having conversations involving dicks and tits or they just have the need to brag about it; for whatever reason there is, I’m pretty much aware of all of their sexual encounters and, may I add, I’m also aware of all the disappointment and the why-hasn’t-he-call-me? those encounters lead to. They don’t understand why they can’t find a steady boyfriend. It’s funny, right? They’re looking for the kind of relationship they don’t believe in.

Old Enough to Know Better

2010-12-09T13:10:00.002+01:00

After the constant phone calls to my mommy, the sudden need to lock myself inside my room and my lovely mood swings, I started wondering how much was I actually growing up. Right after the following thought popped into my head I no longer question that I’m 20 going on 16:

“Is everybody having more sex than me?”

All this started a couple of months ago, while I was having a not-so-deep conversation with an 18 year old girl friend, who isn’t exactly the sharpest tool on the shed, but I wouldn’t say she’s dumb… She’s sweet, really, most of the times. I guess that would be a really long nickname, so let’s call her “my tall friend” (yes, she’s tall… Didn’t I mention that?).

Tall Friend: […silly monologue you really don’t need to know as I can hardly remember it] but I’m pretty sure I don’t have more experience than you do.
Me: With how many guy have you been with?
Tall Friend: When you say ‘been with’ you mean actually fucked?
Me: Yeah… [If you want, make up something extra here, pretend I actually add something of value to the conversation]
Tall Friend: Eight.
Me: So I look like a girl who has fucked more than eight guys? That’s good to know… [and I meant every word]

From that point on it seems like everything I hear is how many fucks people have had in their lifetimes…

Unfortunately, from the first night I tried to catch up with those number I realized I have high standards … Oh, don’t look at me like that. I’m just as surprised as you are.

Girls, Liquor and Sex

2010-11-29T18:33:00.001+01:00

One would think that after a 3 day party weekend I’d had such a hangover that I wouldn’t be able to think something other than “Another one, please! And keep ‘em coming!” (this applies to Martinis as much as to aspirins)… But I did, I managed to learn something along the way. Two somethings, actually. *Clears throat*

Some (emphasis on that word) girls try too hard.
I’m way too old for this shit.

I’ve always been a stay-home girl but now that I have such a freedom to go out, I have decided I need to try something up before I decide that I hate it… What I’m trying to say is that I’m kinda new to this whole social ritual and I’m amazed of how hard women have it (and by amazed, I mean fucking scared). Do you, guys, know how much time does it take for a girl to get ready? Ha… I already knew the answer, I just wanted to mess with you. However, I’ll still say it: it’s fucking annoying. I don’t get why it’s so hard for them to chose a freaking outfit, I find it incredibly easy: “My boobs look great on that dress + I want my boobs to look great tonight=I’ll wear that dress” It’s simple math, people. Then comes the make-up, god forgive if they leave the house without privatizing an inch of skin from oxygen… Finally, my worse enemy: High heels. I get heels (I don’t wear them, even if my 5’2 height begs me to, but I do understand why people wear them), what I don’t get is high heels. Just super models can walk in high heels, the rest of the mortals just look like they have osteoporosis.

I guess the reason I don’t worry too much about it, is because I know something most 18 year olds don’t. I could be wearing an oversized t-shirt and no make up, tell a guy in a bar I’m horny and I’m pretty sure the answer won’t be: “Sorry girl, you’re totally wearing the wrong shoes… And I like licking the eye shadow out of my girls, gets me going”.

Point number two doesn’t need much of an explanation, right? I think even at 16 I was too old for this; people call it being “an old soul”… I don’t think that’s my case, but if I have to put my finger on it, I’d say I have the soul of a bitter old woman. I’m getting a bit too tired of hearing these girls complain about every little thing when we go out… And I know what you’re thinking, I’m complaining about people who complain (and if you weren’t thinking that, shame on you, it’s a great argument), that’s part of my charm, I’m full of contradictions.

I’m fat. No. You’re not.
I have nothing to wear. Then don’t wear anything. Guys will love you.
My nose/teeth/feet/etc is/are too big. Probably yeah, but what are you going to do about it right now? Just own it.

What I’m not too old for is playing match-up, as if I was in elementary school. Ok, ok, hear me out, this was actually kinda fun. Girls and boys received a little paper, at a party, where it was written the name of an animal; it was very biblical, one guy had an animal and some girl out there had it too. I was a tuna! And just like life itself I harassed a couple of guys outside of their bathrooms asking them if they were my ‘tuna’. One of the guys answered “Sorry, I don’t smoke”… It was either a mix because of my accent or he thought that the only possible reason I could be asking that kinda stuff would be because I was smoking marijuana. Oh, well. I didn’t find my ‘other half’; should I take this as foreshadowing?

He’s Out in Hollywood

2010-11-21T15:59:00.004+01:00

Just now I realize that the amount of love I have for an –out of my league- celebrity at any given moment it’s a direct reflection of my lack of love/sex life.

About a year ago, I had boyfriend (including, you know, all the good stuff) and I really didn’t care for any famous guy; I’m not going to lie, of course I thought Jake Gyllenhaal was drop dead gorgeous and scenes from Full House could make my lower region feel all funny (scenes with John Stamos in it… I’m not into anything weird), but that’s as far as I got.

There isn’t any other way of describing my current situation other than doing the polite thing: Inviting you all to my wedding with Rupert Grint. June, 3rd. Summer wedding, it’s going to be lovely.

I wish I was kidding… Well, no. To be honest, I wish I wasn’t kidding and there was an actual relationship, not just me being mentally unstable.

A Professional Secret, Buddy

2010-11-09T22:41:00.004+01:00

Getting Laid 101 (straight* guys edition).

Search for a girl who looks like she doesn’t get out of her dorm too much and is craving for some male attention. Once you’ve spotted that girl, make sure she’s around to hear your new resolution: You’re working on demonstrating that a guy can be happy without sex. It’s very important you say this casually and not directly to her, to a guy friend preferably; say it with confidence (I can’t stress this hard enough), you don’t want people to think it’s just an excuse for not being able to get any.

Don’t make any moves on her just yet; I can promise that you already have her attention, but you want to make it believable.

Wait until she does something a little bit sexy: a dance, a look, a smile, whatever works for you. Ask her (again, casually and with confidence) to stop doing that, let her know that’s she’s making it really hard for you to keep on with your little goal.

If she responds positively, (if she doesn’t you’re screwed and I’m sorry I made you go all the way through this) she’ll, hopefully, bring up your (made-up) objective, tell her something along the lines of “you’d be able to convince any guy to do whatever you want”.

Ka-Ching!

You should be giving her head by now… Or at least she's picturing you doing it.

*It doesn’t hurt if you’re drop dead gorgeous too.

*Warning. Don't use this technique on a girl who has to head home half an hour later, due to strict rules of her residence. Both of you will end up horny and alone.

Lines to Avoid:

“You look like the kind of girl who has a better relationship with her father than with her mother”

“Has anyone ever told you your hair kinda looks like a mop?”

“You’re 20? I thought you were 23”

And whatever you do, no matter how desperate you are, Never Ever go for this one:

“Just make out with me! Look! All your friends are making out with my friends!”

But if, for whatever reason, you blurt it out, and she said no (and I'm hoping, on the name of self-respect she'll say no): Don’t lean to kiss her either way… I mean it.

Oh, Marvelous!

2010-11-06T15:02:00.002+01:00

Here’s a fact that might shock some of you: Girls are loud. Girls are fucking loud. Girls won’t just shut the fuck up… Yes, this is the best introduction I could find for my entry.

Living in an only girls dorm is not as bad as I thought it would be. Sure, lack of testosterone makes us go all gaga every time we hear a male voice inside the building; usually is just the technician, but a girl would be surprised of how guy-deprived syndrome makes one look at middle age fatties with a whole new perspective.

Other than that, it’s going quite well… There’s no drama, so all my training watching America’s Next Top Model hasn’t paid off, I’ll just have to wait a little bit more to drop the “I’m not here to make friends!” line. Girls are usually nice, ask you how your day is going and offer help if they can. My only issue is that they always find a reason to scream, and, boy, do they scream.

Please don’t assume I’m some kind of Daria; I’m not. I do some jumping of my own when I’m on the mood, specially while watching puppies, and by puppies I mean penises (no, I’m kidding… I actually meant puppies). I just think that my jumping and giggling should be kept for special occasions and preferably not at 1am on a school night.

Say it. I’m such a nerd.

Don’t Shout, Please

2010-10-28T19:02:00.001+02:00

Girls who are, at least, average looking can have sex whenever they want… Or so they say. I have never tried it, nor have I seen a girl do it so explicitly, but I’m pretty sure in 90% of the cases, if a female asks a random guy to fuck her the answer will be “yes, please”.

I know that option exists. Somehow, every time I think about trying, for a night, to be the slutty girl a bunch of guys pass around I think about my brother, his roommate and the hundredth of conversation I have heard from them; they’ve talked about those girls that really doesn’t matter if they’re smart, funny or nazis, they’re willing to spread their legs and it’s all there is to it. Then, I think about how sick to his stomach would my brother be if he knew his little sister was one of those.

So, there it is, that’s the main reason why I keep it under my skirt.

I can play hard to get; I mean, I’m no master but I’m naturally good at it (you know, the shyness and sarcastic jokes don’t exactly yell “I’m not wearing underwear!”). The problem is, I love sex. Even if it is just with myself. If you know where I’m going with this you win a cookie… Or a vibrator, because that’s where I’m going with this.

Just a week ago, I was (very innocently) shopping for a pair of slippers in an underwear store when I noticed they also sell vibrators; apparently this store thinks that if we, girls, are already fitting our pussies into these really tight uncomfortable thongs, the least we could do is thank them at the end of day.

It wasn’t going to be my first vibrator, but the situation was completely different; the first time I went to a sex shop with my boyfriend, this time I was going to go to an underwear store alone. I went from kinky to pathetic. It took me a couple of days to convince myself it wasn’t anything to be ashamed of, or better yet, it would be totally worth it.

It went something like this: So, I’m on the store. Now, I can’t just buy a vibrator, I have to buy something else, right? If not, I would be the girl who NEEDS a vibrator. Maybe I could buy winter pjs, which I need… Nope, I prefer a thong. I really don’t have a lot of them and lets just face it, guys love them. Oh! A beautiful pair of thighs that I also need (it’s cold and I have a really cute skirt… Yeah, you know, whatever).Great, now I have something to buy aside from that thing. Man… Now, I really want the thong, and there it is, a really sexy but classy one (if there’s such a thing). Wait! I can’t buy a pair of knickers without the bra that matches, it would break the whole illusion… So you could say I need that bra. Why was I here on the first place? Oh, yeah, the vibrator! Now it’s pretty simple, I will just grab it on my way out, as if it was that accessory that would go great with the whole shopping spree but that I don’t really need (and that’s the key).

By the time I was out of the store I swear I could hear Rocky’s soundtrack playing on the back, but there was one last stop before I had to head home: the supermarket, I needed cereal. That’s how my brain works “I need orgasms… Oh, and by the way, some food would be nice”. Things didn’t go so smooth there, though. The metal detector ratted me out, and some clerk grabbed my bag (I swear I’m not making this stuff up); I haven’t read one single book on etiquette, but I’m pretty sure it’s frown upon to peak inside some stranger’s underwear shopping bag. Luckily, that lady agreed with me and just let me go.

Once I arrived to the dorms I wasn’t able to erase that stupid smile off my face; when a nun asked me how I was doing I felt like going “Awesome! I just bought a vibrator and nothing happened!”… But I’m pretty sure that would have blew the whole incognito vibe I was going for.

Sit Still and Behave

2010-10-23T12:00:00.001+02:00

Welcome to her busy dizzy life,
Of going out and getting high,
And following all the latest trends
While shedding all her oldest friends.
It’s been weeks worth of weekends
when ~~fake I.D.s and~~ fake passions are her best friends.
She’s been thinking wishing she could hide
From the girls with the comments passing by.
It’s the boys in bars on Friday night
That replace the emptiness inside.
She’ll be spending her whole weekend
Faking laughs and faking smiles with her fake friends.
Promises you made back home
Are crumpled like the goodbye notes;
And last night’s dirty clothes
Were on the floor next to the phone,
And it’s been disconnected months ago.
No calls from your friends back home.
You lost your point of view and now
It’s got the best of you.
It really comes as no surprise,
She’s gonna break.

She’s Gonna Break Soon
LESS THAN JAKE

I’m actually being quite dramatic… I’m beginning to have a great time. But let’s just ignore that, since it makes me more interesting if I just complain.

I’d Just be the Catcher in the Rye and all

2010-10-20T23:28:00.001+02:00

The first weeks of my new college have resemble my worst years of junior high more than I’d wish for.

You see, I wasn’t really popular while I was growing up, and it was mostly my own fault; there weren’t any bullies or Regina Georges to blame. It’s Simple, I don’t like the attention. I spent most of my classes laughing with a friend about how much the word angina sounds like vagina, and that’s about it.

Where I’m going with this… ? Hum… Let me check my notes. Ok, here it is: Starting a life in a new place is hard, at any age (yes, I’m pretending I’m giving you brand new information. Go along with it and nod, please). It’s even harder for someone who blushes every time all eyes are on her; and worse if she can’t avoid those eyes since every time she opens her mouth people think “oh, she talks funny”.

Considering my social disability, it is a given that I won’t be receiving friendship bracelets any time soon. On the contrary, I have found myself alone in my room listening to Boulevard of Broken Dreams wondering if that phase wasn’t suppose to be over about 5 years ago.

But, before Holden Caulfield gives me a pat on the back, I have to say… I’m not complaining; I’m aware this things take time.

What’s the Routine on Joining a Monastery?

2010-10-10T13:13:00.001+02:00

If you know me at all, you would know that having a roof over my head is a very big deal for me; that’s why the first thing I did once I got to Valladolid was find a dorm. I’ll make a long story short, I had two options. A boys and girls dorm and a catholic only girls option… I know, right? Well, hold your horses.

The unisex dorm had just a few rules and boys <3; other than that, it had lousy common rooms and even lousier bedrooms with a bathroom where, I swear (and I do swear it), you can take a dump while you’re showering. The stuck-up chicks dorm looked like a hotel, if hotels had libraries and chapels; big individual bedrooms with bathrooms where you can fit at least 10 people (not that I’m going to try), but it does have a very unsettling name: Slaves of Jesus Christ’s Sacred Heart.

In hopes that the name has a secret kinky S&M connotation and that I was planning to become a lesbian anyway, I chose the all-dudettes way.

It has just been a week, but I’m in a serious need of testosterone. The only male specimen I’ve seen around here was a technician, and he only made it through the lobby.

Whatever, maybe the desperation will make me better in bed.

Very Phony, Ivy League Voices

2010-09-29T14:13:00.002+02:00

Lately I’ve been having the recurring dream of knowing everything is a dream. I don’t mean it in the cool way like: Is this a dream? Fuck yeah! I’m going to fly like a mother fucker and then have intercourse with every single rockstar without getting aids! God no. It’s quite depressing, really. Just to give you an example, the other day I dreamt about meeting Rupert Grint, I was acting all cool thinking that would making him love me. When that didn’t work out I tried, actually, talking to him, and he ignored me; I got mad, but then he turned to me, grabbed my hand and smiled… That’s when it happened: Wait… Shit. I’m dreaming, right? RIGHT? This is just lovely. Whatever, I’m not having fun anymore.

The explanation for this (or at least the one I made up with all my free time) is my lack of progress since I came to Spain. I’ve been here since August 1st and I have gain nothing. I still have no college or Spanish ID (I did, however, buy a lovely Blackberry)… Not my fault, mind you, I sent my applications in time.

I’ve tried my best to keep things going, or at least make myself believe I’m keeping things going by calling each college I applied to almost every single day.

Phone Conversation Reenactment.

August 1-15
Me: Hi! Uhmmm… Hello! Did I already said that…? Good morning, yeah.
Whatever University: Hey.
Me: Uhm… Yeah… If it’s not a lot of trouble could you pretty please check if my application is in progress?
WU: It’s summer, no, fuck off.
Me: Ok! Thanks!

August 16-31
Me: Hi! I’m wondering… How is my application going on?
WU: Is Summer still going on?
Me: Ok, bye.

September 1-10
Me: Hi! About my application…
WU: It’s in progress… Call in a few days.
Me: Ok, tha- hello?

September 11-19
Me: It’s been a few days.
WU: We’re going to send you a letter with the answer, wait for the fucking letter
Me: I’m still going to call, you know? By the way, good bye.

September 20-24
Me: I was just…
WU: Oh sweetie, you again.
Me: Yeah, hi… How are you?
WU: I’m great, thanks… You still have to way a few more days, you know?
Me: Yeah… I kinda saw it coming. Thanks anyway.

I know it’s been a while since I updated this blog, but I waited because I wanted to, at least, post a bit of good news. Well, now I got good news. Yesterday, I called Valladolid University and the conversation got a unexpected turn: “You’re in, kid. You’re so fucking in… Now, please stop bothering me” (Ok, he wasn’t that enthusiastic; but, I bet he wanted to be, if those etiquette rules didn’t exist).

Does anybody knows someone from Valladolid…? Because I don’t.

My Sex Life is Lousy

2010-09-18T15:36:00.001+02:00

I really shouldn’t tell people this… I mean, I really shouldn’t; but this would be a really boring blog if I just told you, people, things I should. So, here we go, let me just kiss goodbye the little self-respect I had left first.

The apartment I currently live on it’s not tiny, but it really lacks privacy… That’s why I’m glad that, while I’m still on summer break, I live with two guys who work and leave me alone on mornings, giving me… Some “loving myself” time. I guess everybody here can back me up on how uncomfortable it can be when you’re trying to masturbate (there! I said it!) while someone is knocking on the door asking you how much more time are you planning to spend inside.

After a mildly satisfactory experience on my brother’s shower (fuck… maybe our relationship is kinda twisted…) I thought about how different men and women have it on that area.

(Of course I’m not talking about the penises and the vaginas, give me some credit.)

Guys are pretty simple when it comes to their thoughts during the whole process. From what I understand, there aren’t even thoughts. Guys just grab a magazine, watch port or think about Megan Fox’s boobs, *insert a couple of faps here* and… Done. Which is great, yeah, whatever.

I can’t do that… And, since I know I’m not a special snowflake, girls will have my back here; just like in everything else in life, it’s a bit more complex for us. Ok, I don’t feel confortable speaking for the entire female race, so I’ll just stop now.

I just can’t ‘do’ an image, I need an entire situation, so I make up short stories for myself. Now, these stories have to make sense, have to have a beginning, a middle and an end. I just can’t be lying half ass naked on a bed, I have to start with the date before that. Even in my fantasies I get a bit offended that Jake Gyllenhaal carried condoms with him on our first date.

There are so much things I have to ask myself for the story to make sense. If a handsome police man decides to force my way out of a ticket, there must be a reason for me to be speeding up on the first place and why in the name of god did I thought it was a good idea to stop on a dark isolated alley.

Here’s a real life example of my train of thought (and god would I love if I was just trying to be funny).

Ok… I’m in a basement and I’m handcuffed to a- to a what? I need something that gives me the movement I need… A pole? Why on hell there would there be a pole in a basement? Old fire place? Stip Club? Ok, I can work on that later. How did she took me here? Did she planed it or it was spontaneous? If it was spontaneous why was she carrying on her purse handcuffs? Ok, it was planned… And if that bitch apparently has super strength she could also had taken the pole with her and install it on the basement. Perfect, problem solved! …No, wait. What kind of underwear are we wearing? Fuck, I’m going to need a couple of hours here and a Victoria Secret’s catalog.

In my Mind, I'm Probably the Biggest Sex Maniac You Ever Saw

2010-09-06T03:18:00.001+02:00

I feel like embarrassing myself today (random need I have from time to time), and talking about my undying love for my brother’s roommate is the fastest way to reach my goal.

I’m not going to talk about his dreamy blue eyes, his tanned perfect skin, his wavy brown hair or his amazing abs that he likes to show off walking shirtless around the apartment… I’m sorry, why am I not talking about this? Pff… I knew I should had made and erotic blog. Ok! Who’s in the mood for a very explicit story about me giving this really sexy guy a blow-

Tonight’s show has been interrupted to inform you all I just reached my just mentioned goal (and a couple other things too)!

Well, I’m not going to talk about his girlfriend either (ugh…), or about her annoying (but pretty cool) 60’s dresses… Or her great taste in movies, music (and guys) that make it really hard for me to dislike her.

Nope. I’m going to talk about ~~me, since that’s the thing I do best~~ being incapable of talking to him without sounding like a complete retard.

Example
Him: Hey!
Me: Hi! How you doing?
Him: Great, how about you?
Me: Great! How about you… I just asked you, right?
Him: …Right.
Me: Ok, then.

But, I’m proud to announce that he isn’t the sharpest tool either when he talks to me.

Another Example
Him: (holding a bottle of sunscreen SPF50) Is this yours?
Me: Yep.
Him: You need to put this on…? I’m sorry…
Me: I don’t need your pity, mister.
Him: No, no! I didn’t mean it like that… I was just thinking about the need girls have to get tanned- I really don’t understand it really, it’s ridiculous- not that they can’t look good- I mean… Forget it.

Can you imagine our children? They wouldn’t know what a proper conversation is.

In other embarrassing news… I decided to create a Tumblr account. I would be ashamed if I weren’t having so much fun with it.

You Don’t Have to be a Bad Guy to Depress Somebody

2010-08-30T22:25:00.001+02:00

This is a very adequate sequel to my previous post…

Here’s something you should know about me and my brother: we can’t handle confrontation, for very similar but different reasons.

The similar. We are unable to keep ourselves calm.

The difference.
Him: You’re fucking wrong, you fucking fuck!
Me: You…*cries a bit* I just… *cries a bit more* I just don’t get why you have to be so mean!

Now that you know the facts, let’s jump to the story. Place yourself on the same scenario described on the last entry; the music, alcohol, lame dance and random make-out dude. I’ve already forced my brother to watch me being a drunk slut and he didn’t seem to have a problem with it; rather, he seemed quite proud his little sister’s milkshake could bring all the boys to the yard, only this time, he wasn’t ok about it. To be perfectly honest, this time the random dude wasn’t that random. He was a friend of his girlfriend.

My brother came up to me and in that very serious voice of his told me,
“I don’t want you to talk to that fucker anymore” Take a breath “You don’t have anything to feel bad about, you didn’t do anything wrong; just don’t talk to him”.

Since I’m a firmly supporter of the ‘Bros before hoes’ philosophy I listen to him, but the damage was already done. After that, it was an hour of waiting for my brother and his girlfriend to finish fighting about it; I still don’t know what exactly trigger the fight and who was on my side (if there was someone on my side).

See, we don’t fight with each other, since we don’t know how to; lately we just talk if we really need to. Things are getting better, but not as fast as I’d wish for. I’m not the one for complaining (who am I kidding? I totally am) but I don’t know a lot of people here, if my brother doesn't talk to me I don’t have much more.

I’m pretty sure I’m quoting a lot of crappy songs here but… I’ve never felt so alone.

Daddy’ll Kill You

2010-08-23T11:52:00.001+02:00

Quiet. That’s the way I’d describe the way the trip started. Me and my big brother (along with some friends of his) decided to visit a small beautiful town two hours away from here (it’s called Comillas, if you were wondering). In complete silence, it was just him and I on our way over there; early 2000’s songs were the only sound that kept us from hearing crickets.

Once we got there and met the rest of the people… Well, let me just tell you this entry was initially about the glory and sanctity of alcohol. A couple of drinks helped me go through being a social retard to the adorable snowflake you know I am; and that was just while we were chilling (ugh… I’m definitely not the kind of girl who says ‘chilling’) on our hotel.

When we hit the town (I should stop with the clichés) my brother started a tequila-shot competition with a friend (you already know they both regretted it the very next day); I, on the other hand, was dancing as if I was actually good at it. Well, I must have been doing something right, since I caught the attention of a group of guys. After dancing for a while with a dude who was young and not bad looking (pretty much my only standards when I’m drunk) he asked me where I was from, when I answered Mexico he became the definition of facepalm. Before I could wonder if this guy was some kind of jerk, he shoved his tongue down my throat.

We made out, and we made out hard. When I came out for air I noticed my brother wasn’t that far away from me; he looked right back, and with a very drunk smile on his face he offered my make-out partner a shot of tequila.

A couple of minutes later I gave ‘my guy’ a quick “Gotta go, see ya!” and left the place right behind my group. One of the girls (who was drunk, of course) asked my brother if he had a problem with what went down just then which he answered “I guess she knows what she’s doing”; the reason why I’m telling you this is not that, is the hilarious answer he got in response from the same girl:

“¡Cuando yo tenía 20 años follaba y mamaba como tu puta madre!”

(“When I was 20 years old, I fucked and sucked like your whorish/fucking mother”)

The third night there… Yeah, I’m not even mentioning the second one because there' are just very few good stories that start with “Once, I was so hangover…”. It started just like the first night, actually, it was pretty much the same, up until the point where I met another guy at the club. This time the place wasn’t so crowded and loud, we got the chance to talk and not make out. After a while I needed to go the bathroom (one of the many wonderful things you can blame alcohol for), when I finished I reunited with my original group. My brother smiled at me and yell:

“What a champion you are!” lift my arm up to the air while he turn to look at his girlfriend “Hey! Took a picture of me with the champ!”

Quiet. That’s the way I’d describe the way the trip ended. On our way back it was, again, just me and my brother in complete silence… No, not really. This time there was this short conversation that lasted for about a minute.

“What are you thinking about?” He asked.
“I’m getting a zip right here” I point to chin “You see?”
“Deep thoughts you have”
“Well… What were you thinking of?”
“That we’ll have to do some research over the internet about the the history and architecture of this town… So we have something to tell mom and dad about”

Don’t Answer if You don’t Feel Like it.

2010-08-20T01:57:00.003+02:00

- If you're from ~~Africa~~ Mexico, why are you white?
- Oh my God, ~~Karen~~, you can't just ask people why they're white.

(mean girls, 2004)

This is what my life has come to.

Always Showing Columbus Discovering America

2010-08-13T15:21:00.001+02:00

My plan was to upload pictures of my trip (I guess it’s not actually a trip) but, you know, plans change.

I should warn you in advance, this video will just be a waste of your time (but that’s pretty much a warning for my entire blog).

Few notes for your amusement:

0:11-0:17. No one told me I forgot a spot on my nose… I don’t really know how long I had that semen-looking fluid on there.

0:35. That’s my big brother <3

0:42. Just a random kid… He didn’t need a note, didn’t he?

0:44. My blowjob face is glad to meet you.

0:57-1:00. Translation: “That you’re a whore and I can see your bra”. I heard a 12 year old telling that to some friend of hers… I thought it was hilarious.

… Song by Parry Gripp.

Sonuvabitch

2010-08-08T19:40:00.001+02:00

Fact: Getting an Spanish ID is harder than, as a girl, grow a small penis.

I already tried three times. Ok, first time the place wasn’t even open but still counts as a try.

Next try, I was there at 9 in the morning, behind a line of, at least, a hundredth people; it looked as the Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows midnight release (or so I heard… Err… Ok, I was totally there). An hour later a police man gave me and the rest of the losers around me, a number and told us to get lost for a while; it wouldn’t be our turn until a couple of hours (charming guy, that one). I was back in time to hear my number; I went something like this:

Mean Old Woman: This is the first time you’re getting an ID?

Me: Yes.

MOW: Where are you from?

Me: Mexico.

MOW: But you have Spanish Nationality?

Me: Yes. Here’s my Spanish Passport.

MOW: That shit is useless (I’m paraphrasing here). I need a Spanish Birth Certificate; they can send it to you via fax, so don’t worry about that. NEXT!

Whatever.

After a very disturbing and embarrassing call to my mommy she agreed to email me everything I may need.

Third Try. I arrived 30 minutes early now, that time there were only 50 people in front of me. After I got my number the same police man told me to get back in about an hour. Here goes a pretty boring story that I’m too lazy to write in details: I had to find a place to print my documents. Nothing was open. I had to trade my number with someone else to give myself more time (so waking up 30 minutes earlier didn’t help at all). I found a place. Blah blah blah. My number was called:

New and Even Meaner Old Woman: What’s this?

Me: Spanish Passport. Family Book. Mexican Birth Certificate. Spanish Birth Certificate.

NEMOW: I don’t need any of this, I just need your Spanish Birth Certificate.

Me: You also need to get laid but whatever (You already know I didn’t say that).

NEMOW: Where’s your Spanish Birth Certificate? WHERE?

Me: Woman, pull yourself together, it’s right there! (There’s also the possibility I just whispered a shy “there”).

NEMOW: Oh, right… We have a problem here. It’s not signed.

Me: It’s a three paged documents, it’s signed on the last page.

NEMOW: It should be signed on the first one.

-Insert here a short “but there it is” “I don’t give a damn it should be here” discussion-

NEMOW: Go to wherever you got this and ask them to sign it on the first page, you filthy whore.

Probably she didn’t insult me, but I wouldn’t know, by that time I already got up and walked away. I hold back the tears; and, when I was outside of the building I finally got the chance to curse them… In Mexican, they deserved a curse they wouldn't understand:

“¡Pinches pendejos! ¡Que no mamen!”

The meaning would be lost in translation, but it’s something along the lines of: Fuck those idiots!

Oh! As a totally unrelated note. I just saw a a 14 year-old girl grab the penis of a 14 year-old boy on the middle of the street. Suddenly, I feel as a stuck up bitch for thinking that my ‘showing-love-to-the-penis’ time was meant to be used on a privet or semi-privet place.

Do They Fly Away by Themselves - go South or Something?

2010-08-02T10:28:00.001+02:00

From the moment I knew I was going to spend 9 hours of my life on a plane sitting between two strangers I started picturing who those people could be. Well, you know the kind of nympho I am, actually fantasizing about all kinds of sexy people… I swear, my favorite scenario was the one I sat between a Mexican dude and a Spanish one; you must know exactly what I mean, two of the finest samples of what both countries have to offer: young, hot, funny, and with a very thick accent (ha! you thought I was going to say something else, huh?). Apparently, someone listened to my prays, but just to half of it. I sat between a Mexican and a Spaniard… Around their 50s.

Blah.

Ok, the Spanish dude had this George Clooney sexy vibe going on… But, whatever.

Nothing major happened other than that. I went to the bathroom, and it said it wasn’t occupied; so, I pushed the door and someone pushed right back. I see now that knowing how to use a lock is a gift given to only a few lucky ones.

My brother drove 5 hours up to Madrid just to pick me up (he’s such a sweetheart, isn’t he?). On our way back to Oviedo (city where I’m going to stay until classes start) a fucking pigeon crashed against the windshield. Just like that. I thought that kind of things just happened on horror movies; just there birds have a death wish. There were blood, brains and feathers splattered all over (if you needed help picturing the whole thing).

I’ve been staying on my brothers apartment, and if you read the last part of my ‘Something about me’ section just to your right you would understand how that could be an awesome thing for me.

It isn’t.

He has a girlfriend now.

May I go back to Mexico, now?

Inexpensive-looking Suitcases

2010-07-30T19:45:00.002+02:00

I’m leaving in just a couple of hours, and I feel like I’m going to throw up my breakfast any minute now.

I’m lost for words; but I have a song!

Don’t look at me like that! Cliché would have been if I had posted Good Riddance (Time of your Life).

Wish me luck, fuckers!

(I’m sorry, I see there wasn’t any need to insult you. I thought I could pull it off… I can’t).

Blue Pajamas with Red Elephants

2010-07-28T08:03:00.002+02:00

This entry is, basically, the sequel to: Had the Whole Evening Free. It’s common knowledge that second parts are never better than the originals; so, being a true college kid: I’m not even going to try.

Without further ado, here they are folks, the new set of t-shirts I made.

I’m giving credit, of course. I didn’t come up with half of this; they did.

(And yes, apparently I’m pinching my own butt).

(… Now, I’m just rubbing it).

I got the quote from Harry and The Potters second album.

(I’m running out of places where to place my hand).

Cover art from The Matches’ A Band in Hope album.

It’s a bit hard to read, but it says: The troops are having a blast here.

Idea stolen (I, however, prefer ‘borrowed without a plan to give it back’) from here.

You see why I can’t sell these things? It’s not because I love them way too much to give them away; hell, I would even sell my kids for a reasonable price. Nope, I just like my life without lawsuits falling all over my head.

If you excuse me, momma is planning to send her new portfolio to Mexico’s Next Top Model…

My Red Hunting Hat

2010-07-24T08:42:00.004+02:00

Yesterday at night, I got home after a mildly interesting grocery shopping experience to find my neighbor, who’s about my age, outside of his home with a bunch of friends. Now, I must tell you I don’t know a lot about him; actually, I wasn’t really sure who, of that group of guys, was him. All I really know about him is that he plays the drums, since we were both teenagers, out on his garage (how very cliché of him, I know), and with time he has gotten slightly better at it; that and his dad is blind. Getting back to my point; I watched for a couple of minutes this group of young strangers, in the dark, while they were drinking beer and listening to Green Day; it wasn’t until I was safe at home when I realized how embarrassing would have been if they had noticed. However, while I was staring at them (like the creep I am) with “When I Come Around” playing as the soundtrack, I started thinking how my neighbor and I could’ve hit it off. It’s not a secret that I have the hots for drummers, after all; almost as much as I cream for guys who appreciate Green Day’s good old days. Maybe, if we had met somehow, he could be now my best friend, some annoying dude I know, a great fuck, a creep in the past, or the greatest love of my life. But he isn’t. I don’t even know his name, and I surely won’t miss him when I’m gone.

Nonetheless, this entry is not about him. It just got me thinking about all the things I am going to miss that I already accepted I can’t take with me (and by “accepted” I mean, threw a big fit that got me nowhere). But this entry isn’t about that either (I’m so sorry); actually it’s about what I’m taking with me. Some people may call them my “most valued possessions”, I prefer to avoid that term, since it would be embarrassing to call this shit valuable; these are just my “must-have’s”:

I need to get the tittles for my blog from somewhere, don’t I? And I admit this emo rich bastard is goddam entertaining and all.

What could I say about this? Of course I have to take my favorite band’s CDs.

Mock me all you like, I love Jack Dawson and I firmly believe next time I watch this move he won’t die.

Mexican comedy about two kidnaps; say what you want about Mexico, but if there’s something we can do is laugh about our situation. I’ll watch this movie everyday so I don’t forget my awesome accent.

This is even more embarrassing than Titanic. The 90’s were cool, ok man!?

I just have the first four seasons, the only ones my adorable and sexy Shannon Doherty appears (did that lesbian joke got your respect for me back? No? Ok).

I can’t even pretend to be cool now, right? … Moving on…

Well, here it is. That intro had a point after all.

This was my first CD ever; ok, not exactly, it was my brother’s, I just took it when he moved out, whatever, no one has to know that; unless I post it on the internet, but why would I do that?

I Never Liked Romeo Too Much After Mercutio Gets Stabbed

2010-07-18T08:32:00.003+02:00

As most 14 years-old, I used to have a fight against the world. I did what any socially inept teenager at that time would have done; I wore black oversized t-shirts and had a problem comprehending the correct use of eyeliner. Yes, I was part of the whole Avril Lavigne pseudo-punk wave. Saying that I’m ashamed of it would be unfair, the phase helped me overcome the fact that I didn’t have a lot of friends at the time; pretending to be a Punk gave me the option to say “people suck, I choose to be alone”.

February 2005

Girl meets boy. Boy shows interest in the girl. Girl drops on her knees, being him the first guy to ever notice her.

Let’s call him First-Kiss guy… Aw, did I just spoil it? FK was 18 at the time, he wasn’t particularly good looking but neither was I, back then; he was funny as hell, thought (but there’s a real possibility that I was so head over heels that I just laughed at whatever he said). The important thing for me was: He liked me. ME!

March 2005

I went out with a group of friends, including him… You know what? I’ll let the 15-year-old in me take it from here: So, we got, like, away from the rest. We got into his car, he had a car! I know, right? He, then, started, like, going on and on about Rap music and I was all like “I love rap, too!” I know, so embarrassing but what was I supposed to tell him? That I hated that effing music? I mean, right? Whatever. He, like, pulled off his car and I was like “Is he going to kiss me?” and he did! It was so retarded. I didn’t, like, know what to do, and he was, like, totally feeling me up, like, my boobs and all. I know, right?

After that day, he rarely spoke to me again.

I can’t even began to explain how mad/sad I was . Doesn’t even matter now; after a couple of months and hearing over and over Taking Back Sunday I was pretty much over him. Thanks to him I learned that not all guys that I invite to feel me under my bra are going to be interested in hearing my heartbeats along the way.

I saw FK several times after that and we held short but nice conversations. He left town about two years ago. I wasn’t angry at him; the way I saw it, it was my own fault I got hurt. I created expectations for a guy who never promised me a thing.

Now, for this kind of talk you were better off watching re-runs of 90210, I know. This is relevant to my life now; seriously, I’m getting there.

Around May (of this year) he sent me an instant message. We started talking and suddenly the conversation got heavy *drum rolls* He confessed me he really liked me, and after all these years he still thought about me. He told me the age difference freaked him out at the time, but mostly he was so damaged he just got spooked of how much he liked me. He now regrets it.

… I know, right?

It was a big ‘is-this-real-life?’ moment for me. All of a sudden my beliefs were based on a lie (I could be more dramatic, but I’m tired). Paraphrasing one of my friends: I thought I was dealing with a male whore but he turned out to be a pussy.

Months passed and he was ready to come visit me, he wanted to see me before I left the country. Alex happened (big hurricane that flood a bunch of cities), he’s ok, but he’s trapped there. Let me tell you something: I’m so fucking relieved.

The second part of this story is like a crappy sequel of a horror movie, where the screenwriters decide to add a twist to the story that will just not work. Suddenly it’s not about my expectations, it’s about his. He still remembers me as the self-conscious 14 year-old girl who would have said anything just to make him like me.

We are now this new shitty version of The Great Gatsby; he’s a guy who’s trying way too hard to recapture a moment with a girl who isn’t what he remembers anymore (and probably, never was).

Oh, again, the 15 year-old me wants to add a few words:

Who’s crying now, fucker?

Terrific Book of Short Stories

2010-07-12T08:21:00.001+02:00

Some people seem like Barbie to me; knowing, since the day they were made what profession they’ll choose (I apologize for the crappy Barbie analogy, for a second I confused corny with inspired). Being an architecture student I’ve seen this, a lot; most of my classmates loved playing with Legos and did awesome drawings from a very young age.
My childhood was nothing like that. I was a hardcore Barbie fan (hence my need to mention her in every chance I get) and, to this day, people can’t tell the difference between a cat and a microwave from looking at my sketches.
I think I have considered every single career option that is out there; from being an astronaut to a unicorn, seriously.
When I was a 5 I loved my dog so I thought I could be a veterinarian; at the age of 9, I liked Melissa Joan-Hart and I wanted to be an actress (or a lesbian); at 12 I loved ‘nsync (who said that?), and therefore, the music career; and after watching a couple seasons of CSI, when I was 15, I thought being a criminologist would be fucking awesome.
Architecture never came to mind; however, being a writer did… All the time.
I’ve always had the need to write about something; from fan-fictions about how I met all 5 members of ‘nsync and they fell in love with me (seriously, who’s saying this shit?), to well-thought essays about teenage stereotypes and feminism from a Disney perspective… And now apparently I have a blog.
So, how did I end up choosing architecture? Huh… The first thing you need to know is that another subtle love I’ve been developing since the sweet age of 16 is graphic design, and I was sure as hell I’d choose that, even when people told me I’d end up living in a box. But one day I was talking to this guy, I told him all about it, and I still remember exactly what he told me: “Lucky thing you’re a girl, you can always depend on your husband’s money”. This is the moment when I burn my bra and yell at the top of my lungs “I WILL NEVER DEPEND ON ANY MAN’S MONEY!”, but that would be kind of hypocritical since my dad is my major economic support, that and I like my bra… You don’t burn a Victoria’s Secret bra.
I ended up choosing marketing. I heard somewhere I could then master in graphic design. Sounded like a great plan; its only flaw was that by the third day I was already bored out of my mind. I didn’t give a tiny damn about economy, or business for that matter. Then, I thought “Architecture is a kind of design… And I like having a roof over my head, sounds like an architect to me”. The next day I changed my classes and…That’s it. I wish there was more to that story, but there isn’t.
These days I find myself scolding the 17-year-old me for not being bright enough to consider journalism, career that would have put both my graphic design love and my writing abilities (cut me a break, I swear I don’t sound so retarded in spanish) into good use. The 17-year-old me is scolding me back, though, for thinking that at the age of 20 it’s too late to turn back; I don’t mean I won’t try to pursue the whole journalism path later on, I just mean I won’t quit architecture.
It’s frustrating as fuck to be stuck in a class where everyone around me seems to know exactly what kind of future they want; it’s hard to do a good job in projects when I don’t have the love and/or inspiration everyone else has. But, two years along the way it’s a little bit late to find that out.

Now, could you be a darling and forget I told you I was an ‘nsync fan?

Had the Whole Evening Free

2010-07-07T00:57:00.005+02:00

Let’s pretend I just told you all about how much I’ve always wanted to make my own clothes since the ones on stores are almost never good enough for me; or how, when I’m see a drawing or hear a quote, I constantly think to myself “that’s a nice idea for a t-shirt… I’m sure a well constructed paragraph explaining those points would be the perfect intro for this entry. But I’m not known for my perfect intros, there’s no need to mess with my reputation.

About a month ago I bought a bunch of Hanes Men’s Fitted V-Neck T-Shirts with the idea of dying, cutting, sewing and drawing something on them… And, let me spoil that for you, that’s exactly what I did.

This is what I was working with… I can’t find a funny way to say it isn’t exactly my size.

First t-shirt I made. Not exactly perfection (it was time for a Friends reference, now); it was my first pancake, some may say.

The drawing is from the debut album by The Matches.

It wasn’t easy to take pictures of myself from a non-MySpace angle. So I took a picture of my reflection and then I mirrored it on photoshop. (If you come up with a simpler way, please, don’t tell me. I’m really proud of my solution).

This one is a little bit better. I found that quote somewhere on the net, and I take credit for the font. Yay!

Somehow, this shirt reminded me of Karen Smith’s uniform from Mean Girls:

I'm not comparing my rack to Amanda Seyfried’s… You know what? Screw it, I am. I have nice boobs.

This IS perfection. I should be humble, but fuck that, this drawing took me ages and a few tears.

If you’re wondering they are the Fashion Club (from Daria) dressed as the Ramones.

I took the quote from the internet as well… I already do my own clothes; you can’t expect me to come up with my own quotes too.

I still have 4 more shirts to go. I know what I want to do with 3 of them, if someone wants to share ideas for the fourth one, I will… Hm… Thank him/her, I guess. That’s all I can do right now; I have no money on my own and promising sex doesn’t sound like a good idea.

Thank you for your time, and for not noticing the bra lying behind me. Even if it sounds like something I would do, I swear I didn’t put it there on purpose… I noticed it when I was checking the pictures on my laptop; by then, I was too tired to repeat the whole thing without the bra… (Huh, there’s a sentence guys may not like).

The Thing with Kids is...

2010-07-01T08:01:00.004+02:00

As I said on my last entry, I fucking loved Toy Story 3. So much... I just watched it again. Yep, I allow myself to watch the same movie twice at the theatres. Who said recession?

Now, this is not a review… Especially since the only review I can come up with is… IT WAS LEGEN –wait for it- DARY! (“How I Met Your Mother” fans, I salute you)… So I’m not even going to pretend I’m a critic.

I’m also dropping the Hot Andy comments and the sex toy jokes (I just came up with 3…No, wait… 4! I just came up with 4 dirty jokes!)… It would just be way too weird to write about the sexual fantasies I have with an underage cartoon.

(Add another dirty joke to the list)

The real purpose of this entry was to admit… I cried, just not as hard as I would have liked. On the inside I was sobbing as if there was no tomorrow; but I went to the movies with a friend who knows way too many ways to make fun of the fact that I’m an emotional trainwreck. So I just shed a silent tear behind my 3D glasses (what an interesting sentence I just made).

For a second let’s all just imagine this is not about talking toys; think they are soldiers, cancer patients, sick puppies… Whatever the hell you find worthy of your tears. It was overall a beautiful concept for a movie, the fear most human beings have of moving on, or letting go.

I’m thankful for the perfect timing of the movie, just now I'm able to understand it. Like the characters from this movie, most of us try to hold on to the things we know; we fight so hard to keep everything just like it is until the point when we are forced to realize it’s just not our time or place anymore.

At the end of the movie (I’m not spoiling anything) when Andy is heading out to college, his mom tearfully says “I wish I could always be with you”; since I’m leaving Mexico in a month, saying goodbye to my family and friends…I know exactly what she means.

I'm Going Alone. So Shut Up.

2010-06-26T10:16:00.004+02:00

I normally enjoy going to the grocery store, it’s a weird statement coming from a 20-year-old, but I guess I just feed the I.<3.Shopping girly stereotype. It gives me an excuse to just drive around that calms my nerves (the young “OMG!!!111! It’s that a dog two blocks away? I’m so gonna kill him, I must crash against a tree instead” teenager I have inside can’t believe I just said that); I also like buying all the junk food I want, that my insanely nutritious mother never buys; and, I rarely get to do it, so I don’t get a chance to hate it.
I do manage to have fun while I’m there. For example, today, I was picking apples and while I was struggling to reach the shinny red ones at the top of the pyramid I decided to stand on the tip of my toes and stick out my butt. Of course, that didn’t make the job any easier, but I had a blast putting up a show for all the invisible people around me. I make the simplest day-to-day activities seem like fun, huh?
As I stand in line, I can’t help but look at what others are buying. It’s always interesting what you can learn about a person’s groceries, you can tell if they’re hosting a party, if they are a cat o a dog person, if they are cheap, if they have kids… You know, all that exciting stuff. But today, I looked at my shopping cart for a change, thinking what it said about me.
So, I stared at the Kotex pads, the three apples I carefully choose, 2 six-packs my mom asked me to buy, Nair wax, and a box of chocolate chip cookies that described me as an “alcoholic that wouldn’t want to walk around as if someone just shot at her vagina; likes to see herself as a healthy eater but she can’t fool herself for a long time… And who, under those jeans, doesn’t look so hot (but soon she will!)”; statement that, ignoring the alcoholic part, is completely true.
When I arrived at the register I was all excited to show off my ID. It’s not new or anything, but for so many years I promised myself that when I turned 18 (aka. Legal drinking *cough*sex*cough* age in Mexico) I would use any opportunity to show my ID followed by a “you think I’m underage? I’m so flattered”. Well, that day never came. I’m not much of a clubbing kind of girl (and in this day and age, in my town it’s a good thing); I thought I was an R-rated movie kind of girl, but these last two years I haven’t been, apparently, now that it’s legal for me to watch those moves, Pixar ones seem so much appealing (by the way, ToyStory3 fucking rocks… I laughed, cried, and got a bit horny by all grown up pixelated Andy); the only time I was asked for an ID was in a Sex Shop, and that time I forgot to bring it! But it was ok, my then boyfriend looked old enough for the both of us… Wait, did I just admit I went to a Sex Shop with a boyfriend? … I’m so so sorry, dad…
I lost my train of thought.
The point was that I was actually hopeful the woman at the cash register would ask for an ID but she didn’t. Could it be that I finally look my age…? Whatever, my mind is still thinking about hot Andy and all the new toys I could introduce him to (again, I’m so sorry, dad).
My exact change was the equivalent to 10 American cents; which led me to take the hard decision of not giving any tip to the bag boy. The old saying that goes “Little is better than nothing” is bullshit in this case. Those 10 cents were just an insult.

On the drive back I started thinking about all the things I rarely do… Cooking, cleaning the bathroom, ironing, grocery shopping. Activities that I try to have fun with, as I don’t do them very often. Activities that in a couple of months will be a big pain in the ass since I will be dealing with them on a daily basis. It won’t be long until I find myself yelling at pile of dirty laundry longing for the day those clothes cleaned themselves magically.
My only hope is that, when that day comes, I’ll find it in my heart to stick out my butt, giving my imaginary admirers a good show while I cry.

After a somehow deep and meaningful drive, I arrived home, just to find out the damn bag boy put all my stuff into the same heavy but frail bag. It ended up breaking, I kept the beers from falling out, but my pads didn’t run the same luck; and like an old cliché they landed in front of my neighbors’ house for a cute guy to see… Ok, it was actually and old woman, but it could have been a cute guy!
You may call it karma for not tipping the bag boy; I say you’re right… That fucker did deserve those insulting 10 cents.

Dying Nobly, for Some Highly Unworthy Cause

2010-06-21T06:40:00.002+02:00

This isn’t exactly a subject I would like to talk about, to be honest. I’m the kind of person who, in front of an unfair situation in which she feels completely useless will just turn the other way. Just call me the ‘if-you-can’t-find-an-answer-pretend-there-isn’t-a-problem-at-all’ girl. This philosophy has kept me, my family, friends and the rest of lucky bastards alive.
You see, every single Mexican citizen at this moment has a gun held to his/her head, while someone whispers in their ears “dare to make a sound and I’ll blow your brains in a heartbeat”. You won’t believe this, but you get used to it… What you don’t get used to is the fear of being too close to someone who dares to make a noise, because They will shoot you too, it’s not like They actually care, your life won’t make a difference in Theirs.
I guess I could write about who “They” are, why is this happening and what it’s been done to fight it; but I’m pretty sure you can read all about it with a few clicks on Google. There’s nothing about this subject that I can say that hasn’t been said before.
Maybe, if you don’t know a thing about it, reading it from someone who is living it or, in other words, from a fairly-ignorant-20-year-old-middle-class-Mexican-girl perspective will give it that sense of reality.
I can’t really say how and when it all started, but I do remember the moment I realized we were all fucked. About three years ago, one of my big brother’s best friends was kidnapped. It was an amateur job, They saw him on an expensive car and thought “if his parents have the money to give his darling son this kind of car, surely they will pay a fortune for his flesh and bones”, he and a bunch of other unlucky ones were kidnapped. The money was paid and he was released in a couple of days; best case scenario, the guy has a great sense of humor and he recovered quickly. Still, I remember this incident as the first time I saw my big brother cry.
These trends started happening. “Express kidnaps”, suddenly people hid away their pretty cars, stopped talking about finances and everybody looked over their shoulders. After that, some people decided to feed from this fear; prank calls informing the abduction of a son or daughter, it was so plausible that a lot of citizens fell for it, even if their children were safe and warm in a friend’s house.
After a season when we really thought “things are calming down, huh?” a wave of terror emerged as an awful reminder of what happens when you assume.
Before I tell you what happened next, you should know a thing or two about my city. This place reached economic stability thanks to the fact that it’s located where two important railroads meet. Well, what makes you can destroy you, I guess. Now the city is being fought by drug dealers for its great location. I could go on and on about gun fights in bars, where a bunch of innocent people (including underage teenagers) have died; but I really don’t see the point.
They don’t plan to kill the working class; They ‘respect’ the working class… But if the working class is in the wrong place at the wrong time, fuck ‘em.

I've Had a Rough Night

2010-06-17T09:08:00.012+02:00

I can't escape these friends
I've made since you left town.
They throw redundant parties
where I'm too often found.
And while I sit and watch girls and boys
trade views of new tattoos
I wonder if it's too late to call your mom
and catch up on some news.
She says you'll be home soon for me
And it'll be just like you were never gone.
I've got these "friends" in quotes
and ~~girls~~ boys* with asterisks.
I watch the time whither
and fall from my wrist.
Out on the porch Van Morrison
is bleeding through the walls.
I don't think your roommate
has been writing down my calls.
You said the distance
would make a difference,
But it didn't.
You and me,
we're both in love with you.

Dog-Eared Page
THE MATCHES

... Whatfuckingever, right?

Lovely my Ass

2010-06-15T09:14:00.002+02:00

“You always get what you give”.

There’s certain true in there, at least that’s what I thought. For my own good I should start re-evaluating my own beliefs.
If you read a couple of entries here you’ll know I love comparing every single thing to sex. It may be a gift or it may be proof of how immature I am, but I do it. I can’t explain it, sex is sexy. And I usually don’t have a lot of problems with it, since I (most of the times) know when and where is it appropriate to do so. The thing is, a lot of guys work like this: “She’s joking about sex, therefore, she totally wants to fuck me… DUDE, I’M SO IN!”
Don’t get me wrong, I’m flattered guys would “hit it” with me. But if someone jokes for the seventh time about how sexy would it be if I just take off my bra and start running around aimlessly I’ll start feeling a little bit like a slut. I don’t like feeling like a slut; unless, of course, we’ve discussed it previously (kudos to me for just ruining my credibility).
Every time I state this problem people’s advice it’s always the same “Tell him to go to hell”. *whimper* I can’t do that. I’m a wuss… And I blame my mom, she was way too nice to me; taught me all these nonsense about kindness, and to always say please and thanks.
I admire girls who can turn into bitches in 2.7 seconds. I have wet dreams about becoming this rude woman, who is able to improvise snarky comebacks and always dress fabulous… Whatever, I already accepted that it will never be me. There is, however, a nice way of dealing with annoying people; strategy I know well. In this new RealityTv world we are living, there’s something more hated than bitches and jerks: Boring people. I just completely shut off, I answer everything as if it was a “yes or no” question and I don’t even try to come up with a joke.
That always works…! Unless I’m dealing with horny boys. You see, these days, men can live without knock knock jokes while they’re having sex; shocking, right? That’s why, if they’re looking for a quick fuck they won’t give a damn if the girl is entertaining or not.

And there it is, proof. Neither my two word answers nor the big “I-Couldn’t-Care-Less-If-You-Live-Or-Die” tattoo on my forehead kept this dude from having a conversation with himself.
I guess I’ll just have to live with the fact that my sex jokes send a “I’ll sleep with anybody and include a set of ginsu knives for free!” vibe.

Now… Wait… I can’t stop staring at my creepy collar bone. It’s the position, I swear... I hope.

Here! … Suddenly I feel like me, my webcam pictures and my inconclusive rants belong on myspace.

I Didn't Exactly Flunk Out or Anything. I Just Quit.

2010-06-10T08:12:00.007+02:00

Today, at 5:30PM I got into my car, didn’t tell a soul about where I was going. Drove for about 10 minutes until I got there, wishing for a longer road. My palms were sweaty and my throat was dry, ironic; meanwhile my brain was replaying over and over the same made up conversation.
Today was, after all, the day I chose to tell the Head of the Architecture Department I’m leaving, for good.
My reaction is not overdramatic, I swear. This dude has been our teacher for a bunch of classes; he’s 34 and has an amazing relationship with his students. Also, I used to have this little crush on him, and since I’ve always got good grades in his classes, I joked about what a big crush he had on me too (never told him, of course!). I guess it’s safe to say we get along great.
When I arrived, his office was empty; but, no problem, his secretary offered to call him up, wherever he was. I don’t know who the hell she was talking to on the phone, but she asked me to repeat my last name about 6 times “so you are…? I’m sorry who? I forgot, what was your…? One last time, please…”this went on until a point where I really doubted that was my last name; suddenly it sounded funny and weird... Whatever, he was on his way “if I could only wait for him a while, please”.
I waited, but my anxiety wasn’t going away. Judging by the way I feared people could actually hear my heart beating you would think I was about to ask my teacher to prom, or something. I had this huge scenario going on in my mind, which included him on a fetal position yelling at the top of his lungs “WHY DON’T YOU LOVE ME? I GAVE YOU EVERYTHING!”.
I tried to keep myself entertained with anything while I was there; keeping my mind off the subject. I didn’t consider my cell phone as an option, in the Blackberry/iPhone era it’s not cute anymore when you start playing Snake on your old ass Tamagochi… My shirt was a great plan B, though, since I couldn’t decide how many buttons I should leave undone, I ended up going for two (but now that I think about it, I should’ve unbuttoned one more… I mean, if I was about to “break up” with him I could at least give him something nice to look at).
Here comes the anticlimactic part. He appeared and… Nothing happened. Right after I told him, he suggested me the University of La Coruña, claiming he knows the principle there and gave me a couple of good advices.
Basically, this entry is dedicated to all of those who always expect the worst (and to those who actually think the world revolves around them).
On my way out I decided to climb the tallest building on campus and take a picture from there, thinking it may be while until I step foot into that place again.

Here it is, folks, this is how my former college looks under this lovely 38°C (100°F) summer weather. Please excuse me while I burn in hell…

Try to Relax Occasionally

2010-06-07T06:47:00.000+02:00

The fact that I’m spending my summer days lying on my ass all day long is doing wonders for my back; however, some may think that not having a real life would leave me with not much to talk about on my blog… Well, I’m about to prove those non-believers wrong.

I finished filling out every single application form requested by the universities, along with my certificate of approved subjects, curriculum and a copy of my passport; all sealed up, waiting for those lovely people at UPS to send it to Spain. So…I’m being a productive lazy ass.

I just fell in love with Harry Potter books and movies all over again. Therefore, my sexual fantasies with Ron Weasley are back… My imaginary sex life is so great.

A few days ago I found the best blog in the freaking world: Confessions of a College Callgirl. I read the whole thing in two days; if you haven’t, I highly recommend it… A girl talking about how big her breasts are and blowjobs… I mean, what else could you really ask for?

You know what else is just awesome? Sims… So awesome, indeed, that last year I made two music videos using Sims3, and I just remember about them. Even though, now, I would change it completely (leave the song, erase everything else!) they’re still my babies, and since they aren’t major screw-ups, I have to be proud of them.

I’m ending this worthless entry the most logical way possible; stating that I just had a really amusing chat with a machine: (And yes, I did write “you’re are”, because I’m just that bright).

Optional Essay Question

2010-05-31T06:44:00.000+02:00

I’m not embarrassed to admit that watching a bunch of overpaid actors in “Valentine’s Day” got me in the mood. It may not be a porno or even an erotic movie, but it had me thinking how much I would like to have a hardcore make out session with Anne Hathaway *ahem* I meant Ashton Kutcher, of course… And, since I don’t have any kind of companionship lately and my vibrator just run out of batteries I have to focus that energy into something else. So, I’m switching to a nostalgic mood, just like that.

I’ve wanted to write about my college years here, for a while now. Somehow I couldn’t come up with something other than: Look how well I pull off the construction look!!

Now, I realize I shouldn’t focus on college itself, since it wasn’t the homework, projects or classes that made these years so amazing… It was the people (Big “aww!” please!)

I shouldn’t even bother writing a corny entry, since it isn’t a corny generation. I don’t know if it’s the time and age, but I would define my classmates as… Attention whores, each one in their own way.

(While I try to describe each kind, keep in mind I don’t have any plans to pursue the comedic path, I’m aware of my limitations)

Hippie Girl. If it was up to her, the whole career would be about explaining how she designed the building based on peaceful thoughts.

Inappropriate Guy. “Penis! Are you, people, listening to me? I said penis! Vagina! Now I said Vagina! Penis in Vagina! Sex! Sex! TWO GIRLS ONE CUP!”

AlwaysRight Girl. And if she isn’t, she’ll throw a fit so the universe change its course and she’ll be right again.

TooGoodForYouFuckers Guy. He likes to think of himself as an already graduated student who’s doing the rest of us a favor by showing up to classes. I see very kinky sex between him and AlwaysRight Girl.

IWillJustThrowRandomComments Girl. “Have I told you I’m going to marry a Colombian? I would but I hate being so fat! I’m a virgin, if you were wondering; and I’d kill for sushi right now… Aren't you worried about skin cancer?”.

Alternative Guy. I know this is a phase most teenagers go through… But he’s already 20, you’d think he’d be done with telling people how cool he is for liking Alice in Wonderland before it became mainstream.

TooGayToFunction Guy. If I said that I’d love him even more if he stopped complaining about how his Burberry wallet and Prada cell phone were so last season I’d be lying.

Perfect Guy. He’s hot and a gentleman, every girl in my class has a crush on him. I would too if I didn’t have the feeling he has a thing with the TooGaytoFunction Guy.

CompletePackage Girl. The female version of the guy above. Pretty, nice, smart, big boobs… What keeps her from being the Perfect Girl? Unlike her male version, she’s into the opposite sex.

HardWorker Guy. I have nothing but respect for a guy who is majoring in two things.

YoYoMothaFocka Guy. Oh man, this whitey sure loves actig like a nigga.

I’m missing a bunch others (who are equally fascinating… I’m just lazy), including me. I’m an attention whore, just like the others, I just don’t know which kind. I’m rooting for the:

LooksGreatWhenShePretendsToBeAConstructionWorker Girl.

(And if you turn your head a bit to the right you may get to meet the TooGoodForYouFuckers Guy).

I said it before, I can’t come up with something corny to say about these people. I will, however, say this: Just the way they are, each and every single one of them is fucking awesome. I just hope I have attention-whored myself enough so they’ll miss me as much as I’ll miss them.

The 'Chili with Rice' Project

Cool and Nonchalant

A Horse is At Least Human for God’s Sake

a.k.a British Man’s entry

Wide Awake

Fifty Million Dead Cigars; Part 2

You Said You Were Sagittarius

2 Atoms In A MoleculeNoah & The Whale

Fifty Million Dead Cigars; Part 1

Sexy Ones

My Irrelevant Life

Philosophy and Stuff

Stealing my Spotlight

Misconception of What a Question is

People Always Think Something’s All True

Be a Buddy

Truer Word Was Never Spoken

Are You Drunk?

Jesus As Our Buddy

When You’re Dead, They Really Fix You Up

Captain of the Debating Team

Wash Your Mouth Out with Soap

Guys that Never Read Books

Lousy Childhood

Flunking the Hell Out of Here

Always Kissing Each Other a Lot in Public

Nothing

Skinny Legs

Seductive As Hell

Make Her Suffocate

A Very Good Conversationalist

Perverts and Morons

Sticky and Sweaty

A Little Premature in my Calculations

Can’t Seem to Get Very Interested

Sore and Childish

In Love with Knowledge

Her Next Move in the Game

Girls Aren’t Too Much Help

No Kidding

My Mother Always Knows it's Me

She Marries Him Anyway

Mad with Desire

My Father was Catholic Once

I’m Sorry I Told So Many People About It

I, little miss “unfinished projects”, have achieved a hundredth blog entries, if I did my math right (nah, I have an entry counter; I’m too pretty to do math). I’m going to celebrate it in the most annoying way: doing a flashback episode.

I’m leaving all the grammar mistakes, because they are a big part of my awesomeness.

I have never used a washing machine, I don’t really know the value of money and… Have I mention I have terrible social skills? I mean, I’m truly awkward. I just stand there, make terrible jokes or just looking petrified.

FRIDAY, JANUARY 8, 2010More Places and More Names

SATURDAY, JANUARY 23, 2010A Little on the Young Side

SUNDAY, JANUARY 31, 2010What I don't Spend, I Lose

I’m actually voting for just one, but option number 2 doesn’t sound that bad after some research I made of other places, I’ll just say this: There’s a (just-girls) residency called “Slaves of Jesus Christ”.

MONDAY, MARCH 1, 2010Do you Feel Absolutely no Concern for your Future, boy?

FRIDAY, MARCH 12, 2010I Have a Splitting Headache

FRIDAY, APRIL 2, 2010Where the Hell is Everybody?

My imaginary sex life is so great.

MONDAY, JUNE 7, 2010Try to Relax Occasionally

We made out, and we made out hard. When I came out for air I noticed my brother wasn’t that far away from me; he looked right back, and with a very drunk smile on his face he offered my make-out partner a shot of tequila.

MONDAY, AUGUST 23, 2010Daddy’ll Kill You

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 2010In my Mind, I'm Probably the Biggest Sex Maniac You Ever Saw

Does anybody knows someone from Valladolid…? Because I don’t.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 29, 2010Very Phony, Ivy League Voices

There isn’t any other way of describing my current situation other than doing the polite thing: Inviting you all to my wedding with Rupert Grint. June, 3rd. Summer wedding, it’s going to be lovely.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 21, 2010He’s Out in Hollywood

In their sweet little minds, once the panties are off, dudes forget about everything else, including that those things they call girlfriends.

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 16, 2010Sensitive as a Goddam Toilet Seat

You will tell me if I’m blowing this out of proportions, but what kind of 16-year-old boy is not in the mood for sex? I’d have to be some kind of leper for that to happened… And that’s a very low blow to my self-esteem

MONDAY, JANUARY 3, 2011A Rude Bastard

Sex Rules for Myself

Actors Carrying Crucifixes

Don’t Touch Anything

Jesus Never Sent Old Judas to Hell

Go Home, Mac, Like a Good Guy

The Play Itself Was No Masterpiece

People Always Clap For the Wrong Things

The Thing About Girls

Goodnight, Handsome

Terrific to Hold Hands With

Watch Them Losing Their Brains

Getting Corny

2 Atoms In A Molecule
Noah & The Whale

FRIDAY, JANUARY 8, 2010
More Places and More Names

SATURDAY, JANUARY 23, 2010
A Little on the Young Side

SUNDAY, JANUARY 31, 2010
What I don't Spend, I Lose

MONDAY, MARCH 1, 2010
Do you Feel Absolutely no Concern for your Future, boy?

FRIDAY, MARCH 12, 2010
I Have a Splitting Headache

FRIDAY, APRIL 2, 2010
Where the Hell is Everybody?

MONDAY, JUNE 7, 2010
Try to Relax Occasionally

MONDAY, AUGUST 23, 2010
Daddy’ll Kill You

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 2010
In my Mind, I'm Probably the Biggest Sex Maniac You Ever Saw

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 29, 2010
Very Phony, Ivy League Voices

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 21, 2010
He’s Out in Hollywood

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 16, 2010
Sensitive as a Goddam Toilet Seat

MONDAY, JANUARY 3, 2011
A Rude Bastard