All the things that Tiger did wrong: A guide to pimping hoes and being a billionaire without getting caught up...

...And not ending up killed by a crazy bitch you gave the A++ Dick game too. Which is a no no. Why you giving A++ Dick away all willy nilly? That shit is reserved for Christmas, Anniversary, and Festivus boo boo.

We all know everyone has a freaky side. Of course it's usually the ones we least expect it from who have a whole closet full of freak ass freak in them. Although it’s still hard to imagine Tiger Woods (of all people) saying, "I want to f*ck the shyt out of you, you dirty whore nigga lovin bitch. You want this Tiger dack down your throat? A healthy dosage of Tiger uppercut?", he sort of did. Kinky.

All professional athletes have hoes. Even Kobe has bitches. He just has smarter ones (with ID) under contract to shut them the f*ck up. Marrying a million dollar man, extra pussy is definitely and more than likely included. Does Kool-Aid need sugar? Thought so.

A bitch on the side will get everything her heart desires. She just has to work on two things: A quick kneel and silence. It's all about balancing and stabilizing the pussy on the side so there isn't any confusion or swinging gold clubs.

First of all, call your hoes through a burner (temporary, pre-paid cell phone for the urban illiterate) and never leave voicemails. The whole voicemail situation is baffling anyway. Where in the game do you wait for your hoes to call back? Exactly.

Messing with white crazy women will always get you in trouble. Invariably use black or minoritybroke or bougie women and keep them on payroll in order to keep the peace. Don't forget to change your number every couple months and have a rotation of five hoes every two months, only keeping one as your bottom bitch. Never, ever say, "I love you." Bottom line, don't get attached or catch feelings playa.

Throw lavish parties and invite your hoes. This ensures they sleep with other men you know and takes the heat off of you. Know when to cut contact for a few months ignoring hoes and keep the wife satisfied. One major thing Tiger made the mistake of was lying. You can't lie to women. If Elin is that naive of a woman he should have told her from the jump.

And last but not least do not get killed by your side piece or main lady!!!! NO! DO NOT DO IT! IT MAKES NO SENSE FOR THESE WOMEN TO LEAVE YOU SLUMPED AND LUMPED IN A CORNER!!!

Chris Henry

“Fell” from the back of a pickup truck, killed by fiancé. Why did you jump in the Truck Chris? We know you got ups, but you argued with the WRONG one. Let her drive off, she’ll come back…you got money.

Steve McNair

Shot in the face by side piece. Why did you have a piece around your side piece Steve? Always strapped is a song, not a real lifestyle Steve. Plaxico went to jail. You got shot in the face. They getting rid of you nigras one by one in the NFL.

Arturo “Thunder” Gatti

“Hung himself” after an “altercation” with his wife. Police let her go. Why? Cause she was smarter than you Thunder. Shoulda used that thunder down under to subdue a bitch but noooooooooooooooooooo you snapped your own damn neck...

Playas, please have an entourage. I know pro ballers are dumb, but where are the nigra posses? Where is that illicit friend known for getting hoes in and out? See above all the advice given, get you some hanger-on’s that know how and when to do the things you should but can’t do because of endorsements and your squeaky clean image. Every good girl has a whore friend. Every nerd has a bad ass gangstalicious cousin. What happened to Tiger’s? Kobe’s? Shaq’s?

This is in no way advocating that people cheat or have extramarital affairs. Nope, not going down that road. You signed that dotted line, gave away your right to fuck random broads (except for Will and Jada. Weirdos, but smart.), tough it out anti-playa. But please be smart Mr. or Ms. pro athlete/rapper/local celebrity/lime-light. Because we will laugh at you. We’ll mourn you, but we’ll laugh. Trust.

In conclusion, there isn’t any true way to handle side pieces/jump offs/hoes/bitches/i.e. f*ck buddy. You can have an extra bff, string along Stedman, and let everyone believe that you’re bi. Or maybe, just maybe, be faithful to your wife/husband. Cuz Lord knows we need more of Ozzie Davis and Ruby Dee and less of Pamela Anderson and Tommy Lee.

This post was written by MsPuddin, inspired by the thoughts of Rob Holliday (B.K.A rmhoffa, but uses his legal name since he’s on a radio show and HAD to put his freakin link right here.) You can also find it here, along with some more ignant shyt.

A Good B Job

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Would you rather...

...be a single parent of 14...

...have eight kids and your partner cheats on you...

...or find out a child you've been parenting for years was never yours in the first place???

Would you still hit it, again?

Well I came over to my boyfriend’s house the other day, (yes I have a boyfriend) and he nonchalantly had a porno playing on the TV. It wasn’t a plastic titty DVD with bleach blondes, big fake boobies and airbrushed booty. It was one of those real raunchy pornos where the viewer can see the chick’s razor bumps on her cooch during the penetration close-ups.

“Why are you watching a porno right now,” I asked. “And why this nasty one?”

“Oh my boy let me borrow it, I was just checking it out,” he replied. “I’m not really paying attention.”

Oh.

I was silent for a moment as I checked out the porn. Some perverted looking white guy was eating out this fat black chick’s pussi.

At least it was embracing biracial relationships.

“I’m sorry, but that chick is gross,” I said.

“Why,” he asked.

I don’t know, she just is,” I said, making a face, before asking the inevitable, “Would you have sex with her?”

“Ummmm, yes,” he said turning his head from left to right looking at her intently. “You will be surprised to find out, my dear, who a man will have sex with.”

Then he went on to tell me that given the opportunity he would have sex with Omarosa, Whoopi Goldberg, Star Jones (before and after surgery) and Paris Hilton. Thus opening the door to one of my most infamous debates, would you still hit it???

Usually for the fellas, but ladies feel free to toss in your oh so necessary two cents, because you know we always do…

Fellas, would you have sex with Oprah if she was broke? Doesn’t matter bigger or smaller, without money is Oprah still f*ckable?

What about Octo-pussi Nadya Suleman? Sure she might have a gaping vagina, jumbo sized stretch marks, be able to make her nipples hard with her knees and even attempt to pull off the condom during sex, but she looks like she can give a mean blow job...

And if the rumors are true and Rihanna did give Chris Brown herpes or the clap, does her sex appeal override the possibility of attracting a life long std???

Suddenly, I was in the champagne room...

As I’ve mentioned before, I frequent strip clubs because they are the easiest place to get free drinks. See most guys in the joint think that if they liquor up the girls who don’t work there, they might get lucky and catch a last minute amateur show. It’s usually a hit or miss. You never know. I have seen it happen, but it’s never happened to me. Honest. (See my halo :0).

The last time I went to a strip joint, I bumped into a friend of a friend. I love the male reaction when I bump into them at strip clubs. First there is the initial reaction of, “oh sh*t, I’m caught.” Then second there is the, “wait, what are you doing in here, you’re a girl? And last but not least, they second guess, “you don’t work here, do you?”

No I don’t work here, just enjoying my tax-free beverage thank you very much.

Anyway, I bumped into this guy who is a friend of a friend and apparently he got into his head me watching ass and titties was some sort of pastime. So he went ahead and called me up Friday night inviting me to a “gentlemen’s party” at the Hilton.

“Oh is someone getting married or something,” I asked him.

“No,” he said. “I’m just throwing a party, invite only.”

Cool. I'm special. I'm V.I.P. Sounds good.

In my mind I was naïve enough to think that maybe he was just throwing one of those parties where it was a good place to network, but half dressed women were part of the mingling crowd. No worries, I can handle that.

Or so I thought…

I get up to the 18th floor where he had rented a Suite. When he pushed open the door, it was like the scene from The Players Club when Eboney got beat up and raped, except with a younger crowd. Intrigued, I decided to stay. What girl doesn’t want to put herself into that situation?

There was a portable stripper pole in the center of the room that three dudes were desperately trying to readjust. Unfortunately from the look of the thing, one swing and any lucky lady might learn how to fly that night.

There was a bar, but it was old school house party style. Audaciously drinks were $10. I was too anxious to see how the night was going to play out to even worry about getting a drink.

I was also a little embarrassed, because I had invited a new girlfriend of mine to go with me. I guess I felt guilty because I haven't really broken her into the situations I get myself into, yet. Although, she seemed just as eager as me to find out what was going to happen next.

Every ten minutes or so, a handful of guys would saunter through the door of the Suite eagerly awaiting the festivities.The girls were hidden in a room adjacent to the Suite, digging through suitcases full of plastic high heels, bikini tops and bottoms and other bright colored accessories.

Eventually, the girls started filing out into the Suite room. They looked nothing like the Rock of Love/Flavor of Love girls. It was more like Phat Booty Hoes meets BET Uncut. Soon that didn't even matter, because it all became a blur of ass, titties, dollar bills and private lap dances. Rap music blaring in the background.

Wait, what the...how the...hold it. Am I in the champagne room? Hmmm, it's different than I imagined. This was definitely not the same experience as a strip club.

Why in the hell would somebody think that I would enjoy a party like this? I go to strip clubs to get free drinks not lap dances. Even if I did get a lap dance, this seemed like the type of crowd that was paying for a boner. Praying for a blowjob.

Um, I don't have a penis. I might have been sold if it was open bar. Otherwise, I have ass and titties, why would I pay to see someone else’s that are not going to turn me on because, I, like, dick?

The icing on the cake was when one of the girls turned to me and informed me that some of the girls were in fact performing in front of family members. It was then that I decided to make my exit. Parties like that should only be seen on VH1...

Friends Without Benefits

I love my friends. I especially love my guy friends. I learn so much about men from them.

Like for example, I didn’t know that it was possible to have a brown ring around the inside of a toilet bowl for two months without catching hepatitis A,B, and C. I also didn’t know that it takes four 24-packs of empty Coors Light bottles to cover an entire coffee table. And who knew somehow in the midst of old fast food bags, dirty laundry and beard shavings my best guy friend could maintain a healthy relationship. Huh. They must spend more time at her house than his. I’m not sure.

Still, it’s just interesting to me how different guys think compared to women. This particular guy friend of mine not only has a messy abode, but he has some interesting convictions about me and another female friend of ours. You see, him, this other female friend and I all basically grew up together, so we’re all close. In fact, they're like brother and sister to me.

Anyway, he called me yesterday just to say, hi, and he got to talking about how the three of us should all get a hotel room and “get crazy”. Now from a female’s perspective, I took this notion as him suggestion a potential threesome? He immediately bursts out laughing and says no, he meant like just hang out, catch up, blah, blah, blah…

Then he pauses for a minute and says, “Wait, you two have never messed around?” (In reference to me and my girl).

“Um no”, I responded, “Are you fucking retarded?”

“No I’m serious,” he said. “Like you two have never gotten drunk, come home and bitched about how shitty guys are. Then got naked, kissed and one thing led to another?”

“NO!” I yelled (laughing at this point). “What made you think that!?”

“I don't know, but nothing,” he asked again. “Not even like a little kiss?”

Really??? Wait, so guys think that females who are really close have lesbian tendencies? Is that the fantasy?

Well, let me clear this up right now. When I come home with my friends drunk and bitch about a guy, we usually do it stuffing our faces with Jack-n-the-Box and then pass out in our heels and make-up. Waking up the next morning looking like a raccoon and wondering why our friend is face first in the toilet…imagine that.

Fresh Sealed Eye Candy To Go, Please

Ok kids, never eat candy and then masturbate. Side cramp. Ouch.
Wait, what? Yeah I said it.

You know I’m really trying hard not be one of those girls who had a bad break with the penis and becomes really bitter. And then today my coworker took his wedding ring off and asked me out to dinner. Really? I can still see your tan line homie. Do I look that stupid? Desperate? Maybe. I woke up this morning cuddling with my laptop. How romantic, I know, right?

It just sucks because before my ex I was a fucking pimp. A P-I-M-P. I’m serious. I had hooooosss. Same area codes, but they were there nonetheless. There was always a guy on call good for something. And now my status is so dried up it’s going to take a spatula and some baby oil to get this girl in gear again.

However, I did meet this guy out on the town with the girls over the summer. He gave me his card and I’ve been emailing him, to kind of show him I’m not that interested. The catch is that he is older, but he does own a casino, btw. Apparently, he came into my job the other day when I wasn’t there and was asking about me.

Hmmm, what say you????

Be Out!

I don’t know about you guys, but I sure am going to sleep better tonight knowing that Clay Aiken is out. I still don’t get the whole having a kid thing, but at least it explains why the sound of his music makes me want to go and buy shoes.

I like the gays.

Despite what some of you may think, I’m not gay. I prefer the churro to the taco. Although, I haven’t got laid since the Raiders made it to the Super Bowl, I am still a big fan of the shaboinka.

Gay marriage doesn’t bug me either. The idea of GOGA is kind of hot. Shit, Katy Perry kissed a girl, she liked it and she has a man.

Yes it grosses me out imagining a grown ass man with a dick in his booty looking back at his lover saying, “Gimme more, gimme.” However, gay sex can’t be any more disgusting than old people sex. Right?

So I don’t see why two people can’t be together just because their genitals are the same. Since the divorce rate is so high might as well give it a try.

I went crazy, but now I'm back.

A Picture of MsP the night she went crazy.

Are you there readers? It’s me, Ms Puddin’.

I had a Britney moment over the weekend. No I didn’t shave my head or give birth, but I did do some crazy shit. Too make a long story short I got into a fight with the ex in the club on Friday night. (Yeah I know, because I’m like so totally mature, right)?

Security literally lifted me out of my barstool and out of the club. On my way out, the ex had the nerve to take a Corona and dump it all on my clothes, my hair, my face, everything! I'm already getting kicked out, was that really necessary?

Ms Puddin’ was P-I-S-S-E-D.

However, by the time I got halfway down the block, I was over the argument and getting tossed out of the club, but the fact that he added that last little beer douche was what pushed me 51/50.

So I did the next logical thing that popped into my head. I went over to his house and I had a Kelis “I Hate You So Much Right Now!” moment. I fucked his shit up. Technically I didn’t really break or vandalize anything, I just made a mess he was going to have to clean up.

So now when I meet guys and they ask me that stupid question, “Why are you single? Is it because you’re crazy or something?” I can say, “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am a crazy fucking bitch.”

Ironically I was wearing a really pretty black and glittery cross around my neck that night. So the next day I told my friend in the midst of everything that it somehow got ripped from my neck and was going to ask her if she would help me look for it.

She replied with a, “No, I think God ripped that off of your neck that night.”

I think she is right too. God was like, “Time out, I’m going to need that back, thanks.”

When I sobered up the next day I felt like shit. I hate this situation I’m in with him right now. I hate that it still even exists. I know that in the end it is going to be me who is going to have to grow some and make sure nothing like that ever happens again.

So yeah anyway, that's why I'm crazy...

---------------------------------------------------------

Oh! I almost forgot, on a side-positive-whole-other note. I went to go see Janet Jackson bitches!

It. Was. Awesome. I feel complete.

And I was sitting next to one of the flaming of the flamingest couples ever and we took turns screaming like teenie boppers, “We love you Janet!”

Best part of the whole concert. Must see!

Holy Pop Culture!

Haha. Swipe!

Ok where was this party and why wasn’t I invited???!!! >:-/


I'm just saying, can a sista get a table dance?

Sooooo, I have a confession to make. I kissed girl and I liked it. Just kidding. No really, I liked it. Ok, ok for real, my confession is that I think Miley Cyrus is kind of badass. I just wish she were a little older so I wouldn’t feel so guilty about enjoying her not contributing to society.

Don’t tell anybody I just said that either…

Well, if it isn’t obvious enough, I watched the VMAs. This is exciting news guys! I don’t have cable, I just happened to be in the right place at the right time.

However, I watched it with a bunch of guys, which was a bad fuckin’ idea. All I heard the whole time was how thick Rhianna’s thighs are and how many Kama Sutra positions she is wanted in. It's bad enough the bitch already stole my man, now I got to hear about her sexy thighs? Ugh.

It’s cool though, because I have a new crush. Oh yeah, Christopher Mintz-Plasse, sexy nerd. You could be my McLovin anytme baby.

PS- I know I suck at blogging right now. Please feel free to give me a cyber slap in my comments.

MsP

My McDreamy

Speaking of men…

I tried to post this singles add on craigslist, but it got sent back to me. The email read something about inappropriate content. Humph. How can I put out there what I’m looking for in a man if the Internet won’t let me? Anyway, here is the ad, you be the judge…

I am looking for a man who is between 6’ and 6’2”and has a great sense of humor. He must be moderately good looking with excellent hygiene. I don’t like pretty boys. Preferably a Libra, but I will also take Gemini or an Aries.

Penis size should be not too big and not too small. If things aren't looking good in this department, compensate.

I want an educated man who is still street smart. I don’t care what business he’s in, just as long as it isn’t drug or ho related. MUST pay taxes.

Please no baby mama drama. If you do have A kid that is great, however, they must not be a whiny little brat. Preferably potty trained and if they act up I get the right to karate chop them in the side of the neck.

About me: I am a 24-yr-old bartender, who is educated, but hasn’t quite found her niche yet. I’m not desperate, just bored with it all and wanted to spice things up. If you are interested, please email me at (mspuddin [at] gmail [dot] com).

And may the best man win.

Chivalry Died, The Penis Killed It

Ok boys, I’m going to give each and every one of you a chance to defend yourself, but not before I pop you all upside the back of the head.

Honestly, I am disappointed in the men of my generation at the moment. I’m not just speaking from my own experience this time, because three, not one, not two, but three of my girls hit me up over this last week with some, “oh hell naw!” stories about the men in their lives. From infidelity to lying to saying some stupid shit like, “you’ll have to leave the bar right now you’re fucking up my game.”

????????????????

I’m sorry, the only girls I will condone that kind of behavior towards is maybe the ones who walk around with T-shirts that read, “save a virgin, do me instead,” or “cock-a-doodle-do-me.” And I blame them too, but other than that, unacceptable.

Focus boys, focus. If you can’t grasp the concept that girls in porn get paid good money to two-girls-one-cup-it, we got a problem. Please understand reality TV is far from reality and networks purposely cast those girls to walk around on camera in their booty shorts with their titties hanging out.

They get paid to get drunk and make out with half the cast and staff. In fact it's more than likely in their contracts right next to, "blow the director." Besides most of them probably also have the I.Q. of a grape. And since when is that sexy?

What is the deal yo?

Guys listen up—pull out a fucking chair, buy some freakin’ flowers and “you’re ass looks phat in those jeans” does not constitute as a compliment. Also, don’t tell a girl you want to be with her if you can’t back it up by your actions.

For the most part I’m just really disgusted. I know some of the guys that read my blog are married, faithful and all around good guys. Well can you leave some pointers to the rest of the dumbasses out there?

Right now I am opening up my comments for a session on the etiquette of how to treat a lady or at least how to weed the ladies out from the floozies. And for those of you fellas who feel the need to defend yourselves, please, be my guests, because I just don’t get it.

I Hit That

*disclaimer* - I have only done illegal and dirty things to Reggie Bush in my mind. Unfortunately, I have never physically had any real sexual encounters with him.

I wish that women could brag about their sexual encounters, without sounding like dirty whores who feel they have to run home to wash the stench of badussy out of their vagina's.

One of the guys I used to date back in college just recently got drafted into the NFL. I’m talking a multi-million dollar contract. He also just got married. I’m really happy for him and glad it wasn’t me he married. Honestly.

Although, whenever his name comes up, people always ask me if I knew him. Basically because we went to school together.

“Yeah I remember him,” is pretty much all the information I am willing to expose. I’ve learned to keep my sex life private.

Truth is, I hit that. Yes I said it. Actually, if I said it more like a man instead of a lady I’d say, “I made that man my little bitch. Had him screaming my name and everything.”

Ok I don’t know about that last part, but him and I used to GET IT ON.

Back in the day I was a football player magnet. I don’t know why either, because I kind of have a prejudice against them. When I think football player, I think Paco from Blazing Saddles meets Varsity Blues. Not all players, but most of them seem to use their football scholarships as a free ride from school and a tool to pick up women.

At first it was flattering and when I was younger I would take a hot body over brains any day. However, it got old quick and soon I started to feel like a groupie. I mean, pimpin' ain't easy for a lady. And since I’m not the girl he married and is sharing his contract with, people will just assume as much.

Anyway, for the record I am not a groupie and I still hit that. Jealous???

MsP

Silence Is My Aphrodisiac

Well I’m still doing this bartending thing until I can find a decent “grown up people’s” job. Like I, of all people, need to be any closer to alcohol or other people drinking alcohol. However, booze and money in the same spot is right up there with getting some head in heaven. And just for saying that I am probably going to take it up the ass in hell. :-(

Anyway, I was relocated through my company to a different restaurant. Nothing I did, just something to do with some remodeling. It’s the same business, but in a more snooty area and a little more fast paced. Basically this means I have to put up with more shit, but I’ll be making better money. So I guess it evens out.

Although, can I just say that if one more creepy old guy sits at my bar, I’m going to stab him in the balls with my wine key. And that might hurt a bit.

I’m serious. You over there, with the seven and seven, don’t think I can’t see you looking down my shirt as I bend over into the well. And you over there workin’ on your fifth pint, mentioning that oysters are your aphrodisiac before ordering half a dozen is unnecessary.

What do I recommend, you ask? I recommend that you quit staring at my ass, close out your tab and go home to your wife and kids!

Oh and this is for the rest of you know-it-alls, who sit at the bar with the only intention of trying to make a mockery of me. Do I look like I care that you know more about the wines here than I do, because I don’t.

At the end of the day, grape texture serves of no purpose to me but a big chunk of useless information. It reminds me of learning Pi (3.14) in high school. When have I used Pi? Never. Not once has it come in handy. Not at the grocery store, the gas station, during sex, in the shower, not even while surfing the internet has Pi come up as a solution.

I hate to be a bitch, but order a drink and shut the fuck up.

Can anyone pull any strings, because I WANT TO WORK FOR DIDDY!

Not really.

Backwards Love

I had an epiphany. I know, I know, me in deep thought may come as a shock, but humor me here. I could be onto something...

I was driving in my car the other day when that Mary J. Blidge song came on the radio, “Not Gon’ Cry.” Remember that song from Waiting to Exhale, outlining Angela Bassett’s character? The woman who was married to her man for 11 years, helped him build his company success, had two of his children, then he had an affair (with a white woman) and left her?

Well I was thinking, they’re relationship probably started out all honeymoon-like. They met, fell in love and things were great, long walks, long conversations, lots of sex and quality time. That was, until he started thinking with his dick, totally fucked her and tried to take everything she had worked so hard for.

I’m thinking that since people tend to get married to get divorced, this scenario is all too familiar for most.

Then there are other people, (like me), who meet their significant other and they start showin’ they ass within like the first few weeks. Not to be too specific, but a rude, lazy, selfish, player, with no intentions to commit, no direction and so not worth the time and effort, who one day realizes that he is a jerkface and the two of you were meant to be.

Basically what I’m saying is that maybe we should start dating backwards, ya know? Like get all of our flaws out of the way in the beginning of the relationship, so in the end we can live happily ever without divorce or compromising surprises.

Ok this could be a really lame justification for my personal dating situation or a brilliant revelation...

Being Super Cool

I like to consider myself as “cool”.

I mean I smoked weed in high school, I have tattoos, and piercings (my nose and my ears). I’ve dated hot guys. I think. Well I’ve had drunk sex with a couple of hot guys a couple of times. Ok one guy once and it was probably because I wore a really, really tight short skirt and he never called me after, but anyway, not my point.

Back to me being cool.

Not only am I cool, I’m a natural people person. I love people, they intrigue me and when I first meet someone I am always curious as to what their story is. Did she drop out of school and take up stripping to support herself and her baby? Did he end up on the corner because he got spit out of a war without health care and no family relations?

That crazy lady at the coffee shop, we go way back. And that old man in the wheel chair, always wearing his colorful socks and fanny pack is the homie, for real. I don’t know why, but people are attracted to me and me to them.

So it’s no surprise that when I got distracted in the mall the other day, this cutie came up to me and said, “You look lost.”

I normally don’t meet guys like this. And I’m not naïve. I really think that he just happened to see me at the mall all discombobulated and wanted to help out. He wasn’t just at the mall girl hunting.

“Oh no,” I said, kind of laughing. I explained to him that I was frustrated because both of the hair salons in the mall were over booked. I didn’t like the way my lady had cut my hair and wanted to get a quick style before work that night. No such luck.

“Your hair looks fine,” he complemented me.

“I don’t like it,” I said, “but thanks.”

After about ten or twenty minutes of small talk and walking together through the mall, I noticed that we had somehow connected. It was weird. What was even weirder is, at that same moment, he turned to me and said, “I feel like I’ve known you for a long time.”

I felt pretty cool. I gave him my number and forgot about my hair…

I’m Like Totally Not in High School Anymore

It has been sooooo freakin’ hot over here the last two days. And the f*cked up part is that it’s hotter inside my house than it is outside.

Also for the last week and a half I have been getting phone calls from an anonymous number in my area. They call and breathe a little bit into my ear, before I hang up.

I got excited at first. Yay, I have a stalker, maybe they will bring me some Starbucks or something. Then I got irritated as they continued to play on my phone. So I texted the number asking who it was. They texted back, “don’t worry about who I am, but I know who you are.”

I’m like, “that’s great that you know who I am. If you want to converse then speak up when you call me, otherwise stop calling my phone!”

Crazy anonymous stalker texted me back, “I wasn’t the one calling you, my boyfriend Mike Perkins is the one who has been calling you.”

At first I panicked. Oh sh*t, did I get drunk and leave my panties at some guy’s house? I racked my brain, Mike? Who the f*ck is Mike Perkins? Then I started laughing. He was the hot bartender at my old job. The one who I’ve flirted with, gave my number to, but never hung out with. Besides, he told me he didn’t have a girlfriend. Men. I think they are programmed to say, “I don’t have a girlfriend.” Right.

So anyway, I called him and I’m like, “Mike, is your last name Perkins?”

“Yeah”, he said, like he already knew what was up.

“Um can you tell your crazy girlfriend to stop calling my phone?” I asked.

“I know. I’m sorry, but it’s out of my hands. We haven’t been together in awhile. She’s trippin’,” he replied.

What do you mean it's out of your hands? You better handle that, homie.

Great. Just great. It’s cool. I think I could take her…

I Need A Stronger Martini

You know what is the worst? Seeing your ex in the club. No. Seeing your ex in the club, drunk, while he makes love to another girl on the dance floor. Bartender, seriously there isn’t enough vodka in my martini. Matter of fact, do you serve drugs? I need an order of lots of mind numbing, memory forgetting drugs, please. Yeah, just put it on my tab. Thanks.

I know I have been MIA lately, but I had a really long week, which rolled over into a really long weekend. It wasn’t all boy drama, but I figure that part was the most interesting…

Remember the guy who kept flaking on me? The one who tried to say that he called five times and left a voicemail, but my phone never rang? Well, I gave him a second chance. In my defense there is a difference between desperate and horny. There is! I figured maybe if I get to know him a little better I might be able to handle some much-needed business.

It was his dad’s birthday on Saturday and so he invited me to come hangout, which was interesting since it’s a little early to be meeting the family. But whatever, I was game. His dad was cool, but totally busted him out for only being 21! WTF! Yeah, he lied to me about his age. I wasn’t so much mad about him lying about his age. Ok yes I was.

21 is too old for me anyway. If I’m going to have a boy toy he should only be 19 or 20. That way he can drop me off at the bar, pick me up and I don’t have to worry about him drinking and driving.

So anyway, I left that mini fiasco and my girl hit me up about going out since it was Cinco de Mayo weekend. Ok, sounds good, maybe it will help take my mind off of things. And after that episode, I could really use a drink.

We get downtown, which is out of control. I wasn’t the only one out on the prowl that night. I see my girl’s baby daddy outside of the club. Go figure he was throwing a party there? We end up getting inside of the club no sweat. But, not even 20 minutes after I open a bar tab, the ex walks in the door. Boo.

I spent the rest of the night spying at him from the bar. Just kidding, no I didn’t. Ok yeah I did.

Don’t judge me.

MsP

Single and Sober

I went to my friend’s engagement dinner/congratulatory party/death sentence on Friday and there wasn’t a bar. We toasted the soon to be bride and groom with sparkling apple cider. Boo.

Yes folks it’s gotten to the point in my life where if someone tells me their pregnant I can say, “congratulations!” instead of, “Oh sh*t, what are you going to do?” And when someone announces an engagement I have to show up and pretend to care. Well, deep down I do care. I’m really happy for my friend, but engagement parties and baby showers are not really my forte. I prefer something a little more erotic and captivating, with a bar.

There is nothing like a Friday night, mingling sober with other singles who ask you stupid questions like, “when are you getting married?” Well, you have to have something called a man to get married to first, genius.

Then I started to panic. Why am I single? Should I go to the Humane Society to start picking out my 20 cats now? (Naw, f*ck that, I hate cats). Could it be that I’m greedy klutz who has no idea what she wants? Eek! My disastrous dating past started flashing through my mind…

I remember this one time, when I used to date this one guy, (and this one time, at band camp) I was over at his house waiting for him to get off of work. On the coffee table there was a giant glass bowl of M&Ms. Instead of reaching and grabbing just a few M&Ms, my greedy ass went and grabbed the whole bowl. The glass crushed in my hand. (Stupid cheap bowl, grrr). M&Ms flew everywhere and my hand started squirting blood.

I called 911, but they wouldn’t give me any medical advice over the phone and it wasn’t serious enough to call an ambulance. So with blood running down my arm, I quickly picked up all the M&Ms and glass. When he came home about ten minutes later he had to help me get the circulation back into my hand, which had turned a nice shade of blue.

Another time I was dating this other guy (not at band camp) and right before he came over, fatty ate a whole package of red licorice. When he got there we got into this discussion of things we liked and disliked in the opposite sex. One of his vices was when girls threw up, it was a turn off to him. Needless to say, not too soon after that conversation, all that red licorice kicked in and I started projectile vomiting (uncontrollably) a funky red liquid all over him.

Oops my bad. :(

The first time I had sex with my ex, I had stuffed my bra with socks. Usually when I (would *ahem*) stuff my bra I’d do the quick pull out when nobody’s looking. Unfortunately that night I wasn’t quick enough and when he felt me up, he found my thick ass socks. (On the plus side he did end up wearing them to work the next day).

Dating sucks. So do engagement parties without alcohol. I don’t see what the big deal is about being single. I’m enjoying this thing called life people!

MsP

Women are complicated and men are horny 101

Some more information passed onto me from g-sweet. Thanks homie. ;p

WOMEN'S ENGLISH

1. Yes = No
2. No = Yes
3. Maybe = No
4. We need = I want
5. I am sorry = you'll be sorry
6. We need to talk = you're in trouble
7. Sure, go ahead = you better not
8. Do what you want = you will pay for this later
9. I am not upset = of course I am upset, you moron!
10. You're very attentive tonight = is sex all you ever think about?

MEN'S ENGLISH

1. I am hungry = I am hungry
2. I am sleepy = I am sleepy
3. I am tired = I am tired
4. Nice dress = Nice cleavage!
5. I love you = let's have sex now
6. I am bored = Do you want to have sex?
7. May I have this dance? = I'd like to have sex with you
8. Can I call you sometime? = I'd like to have sex with you
9. Do you want to go to a movie? = I'd like to have sex with you
10. Can I take you out to dinner? = I'd like to have sex with you
11. Those shoes don't go with that outfit = I'm gay

.....

*A recent scientific study found that women find different male faces attractive depending on where they are in their menstrual cycle. For example, when a woman is ovulating she will prefer a man with rugged, masculine features.

However when she is menstruating, she prefers a man doused in petrol and set on fire, with scissors stuck in his eye and a cricket stump shoved up his backside.