Posts tagged ‘herpes’
Olympics Or Special Olympics: Is Ryan Lochte Retarded?
Exhibit A: Cock-eyed nipples. In the middle ages, people with wandering nipples were burnt at the stake for being tardsy.
Exhibit B: He posted for this picture, so he is either retarded, or a colossal douche.
Let me preface this by saying that I love retarded people. A lot of the guys I have dated have had a touch of the Downs’, and I enjoy it because they are physically attractive, but not smart enough to catch onto the fact that I am totally manipulating them. I am not calling Ryan Lochte unattractive, in fact out of all the Olympic Athletes who I would cock hardcore, he is definitely in the top 100. I am saying that his eyes are a little sloped, and he says some pretty stupid things. I will also say (and maybe this makes me a skinty bitch) that he is a little thick. Yes, he is an Olympic Athlete, but does anyone else think he is built like a brownstone? I recognize that tiny little belly button pooch like its my mother’s bush. It comes from excessive alcohol use. Here is my evidence that Ryan Lochte belongs in the Special Olympics:
He told Women’s Health Magazine that the best way to pick up women is to wink at them. He said “[I] make eye contact. Some guys keep staring, but I’ll give a wink and come back later, because it keeps her thinking,”
Yes, it keeps her thinking that maybe you have Tourette’s.
He told ESPN that women are “Evil”. He said: “Is there decent girl out there who doesn’t lie?” he asked. “They all lie. They’re all evil. I just want to meet someone who is real, who is honest … who wants to love me as a person.”
What poon-respecting straight man would ever publicly call women evil? If he keeps this up, he will be a on a one-way train to dick-town. On second thought, this doesn’t make him retarded it makes him smart. Keep it up!
He allowed his mom to tell the world Read more…
WTF Quote: Pimps And Hoes
“Don’t hate the player, hate the Herpes medication you have to take monthly ever since you let him just stick the head in.”
-Gloganvlog
Dating In New York: A Diatribe
Dating in the city is hard. Between guys that live so far uptown that you get a nosebleed just thinking about a booty call, to guys with boyfriends who hit on you while they are supposed to be grocery shopping (but are really shopping for cock in Hells Kitchen) to guys that view New York as a candy store full of new and interesting things to try. (try the Herpes lollipop–I hear it tastes like regret.)
Dating in New York whether you are straight or gay is no picnic. So I have decided to give it a rest.
Things are different in the South. When two people like each other it is almost guaranteed that their relationship will eventually evolve into something more substantial than a casual fuck. Up here there is a river of shit between those two people: trains, strenuous work schedules, exhaustion, and a sea of other choices when it comes to fuckles. I recently dated a guy and then just decided to stop because I didn’t think it was worth a 20 minute train ride. He wasn’t the guy. Read more…
Lets face it. Sometimes we don’t remember what happened to us. Here is a list of surefire ways to tell if you had a good night.
1. Your asshole is bleeding. You obviously slept with someone or ate something that doesn’t agree with you. If you slept with someone he probably had a big dick, so good job. If you ate something that doesn’t agree with you, most likely there was vomiting involved. So you probably feel thin. Good job.
2. You are walking home wearing pumps, hoop earrings, and sweatpants at 9 AM. You may not know exactly what you did, but every single person around you does. It may be your walk of shame, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be proud of it.
3. You are only now waking up, and it is 4 pm. It doesn’t matter what you did but it was obviously awesome. Check facebook for pics, your garbage can for used condoms, your mouth for herpes, and your bathroom for vomit. In that order. It is entirely possible with a little sleuthing to figure out exactly what happened to you. Read more…
WWYF (Who Would You Fuck) Hair Band Edition
Yes, you have to choose one. Forget about the fact that you would undoubtedly choke on the smell of hairspray, asphyxiate on the pungent aroma of black leather and body odor, or explode when one of them lit a cigarette too close to their wig. I am not 100 % sure if any of these guys are still alive ( I imagine they died of hepatitis or alopecia long ago) but I am 100% sure that one of them is about to stick his thumb up his bandmate’s pooper. I am also pretty sure the one on the far left is Julia’s biological mother. So while I am never one to condone assless chaps I have to choose Tommy Lee. His hair looks the most natural and hopefully this is before his Herpes developed AIDS and then gave it to his Chlamydia.
But I would have chosen Vince Neil if his hair didn’t look like my dad’s ex girlfriend’s.
*Today’s submission is another from JMO–someone steadfastedly on this way to becoming a regular around here. All I have to say is this (in the words of Roger, from American Dad: “Heres a condom. Don’t use it. Just do what I do. Pretend to put it on, then hide it up your poop cannon.”
Friends Should Tell Friends When They Get Fat
So at a party last night, two of my friends cornered me (after I ate about 350,000 salt and vinegar chips and licked the bowl) and informed me that in my last relationship, I gained a little weight.
Come again? Aren’t you about 6 months too late? It got me to thinking that if your friends don’t tell you that you are getting fat, who will? Read more…
