your breath after corn nuts

and also mine. ye gods.

i’m actually eating pringles (mcdonalds breakfast is over, it’s technically lunch time for us stoners) but i did have the nuts of corn on wednesday. who else says wed-nez-day every time you spell it out? i know i do.

DISCLAIMER: THIS ENTRY WILL BE EXPLICIT IN CONTENT AND IS INTENDED FOR A MATURE AUDIENCE ONLY. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED IF YOU’RE A VIRGIN OR A COMPLETE PUSSY.

anyway. BLOW JOBS

got your ears pricked up didn’t i? now you’ll actually read all the way through this blog instead of stopping somewhere between “i hate everything” and “no idea where this is going.” 

I ACTUALLY HAVE A TOPIC TODAY, ALERT THE MASSES AND DON’T SHAVE YOUR BEARDS. 

so a few of us consumers of the spirits (name changes aren’t really necessary but i want to see how far i can stretch this and still have everyone know who they are) jonesy and candle, were discussing the art of having a mound of flesh and cartilage (right?) shoved down your throat and how it makes us feel. don’t ask me how we got onto this, but i’ll have you know that one of them was wearing a short dress whilst sitting on a glass table and decided to take a picture of her side table flattened rear end to send to us all as a token of our dear friendship. i fucking love her. anyway, we all came to a mutual consensus that samantha had it right on sex and the city: they don’t call it a job for nothing. let me just reenact this for you real quick like.

step one: get into a semi comfortable postion and immediately wish you weren’t wearing shorts. no one believes your back up story for rug burn on the knees, ever. 

step two: either take off your shirt or trousers, this helps them visualize and also finish faster (sometimes) so your jaw doesn’t permanently stay in that awkward predicament. side note: feel uncomfortable about the way your body looks hunched over and all spread out. confidence level plummets here. 

step three: this is optional, depending on how much you like your hair tickling his ball sack or simply giving your split ends a run for their money (in your mouth). tie that shit back with a ponytail. p.s. gentleman, we actually like it when you hold our hair back FOR US. it’s quite endearing. i’ve had one person do this, and the ratio is not winning against my sexual tally.

step four: foreplay. because this is a task you must approach with the absolute will to conquer. and also to not get it in your hair. use your hands, i know you’re shot down already because you’re worried about your love handles and celulite, and staring at him while you try to master what he’s been doing since he was a child is a bit disconcerting. but we try our best.

step five: while you’re mechanically figuring out what makes his feet twitch, let all the spit you can possibly muster pool in your mouth and simultaneously lick your lips (sometimes this isn’t attractive and you wish your hair was in your face, just this once).

step six: prepare your jaw with a few warm up exercises. this should actually come before the puddle forming in your mouth, but i’ve come too far now to copy and paste. so theoretically, this is really step five. stay with me.

step seven: here goes nothing.

step eight: go balls deep. not literally, unless that’s what you’re in to, then god speed to you sister. i know they feel weird in your hand, but this helps shorten the time that you’ve reserved for lockjaw. 

step nine: make strange movements with your tongue and hand. because focusing on not scraping him with your teeth and not squeezing his jewels too tightly wasn’t bad enough. 

step ten: we’re almost done here. fight through the pain in your jaw and take one for the team, because we have sheer power over them right now. one wrong move on his part, and we accidentally bite down. excuse: it’s an involuntary reaction on your jaw’s part. give us a break.

step eleven: it’s coming, you know it is. you have a few options here depending on the determined locale in his trajectory: 1.)for those of you who have assholes for partners, back away! better on your humble breasts then wadded up (it does this when it dries) in your beautiful hair (unless you’s a nasty bitch and it needs to be washed, in which case who the fuck cares). 2.) swallow. we’re proud and envious. 3.) for those of you who have predetermined where he wants to spread his seed: try really hard to either lay down or prop your feet up in the most graceful manner you can manage. if you try to crab walk this shit out, you just risked prolonging the experience. win this for mother russia.

step twelve: lay there and hope he has the decency to clean you up instead of chucking a musty towel over the crime scene with which you must utilize yourself.

there you have it, the secrets of the blow job. it’s not pretty is it?? here are some quotes from this discussion that accurately describe our thoughts during step 7-12.

“i don’t really care for 69. especially when he’s on top because then you have a face full of balls. and he’s all spread out too. it really doesn’t smell good.”

“even when i’m on top, my face is still right in his buttcrack, and it always smells.”

“i hate it when his balls hit me in the face.”

“why does it always smell? don’t they know about cottonelle wipes?”

enjoy your day. savour this information.

 

being sore. fuck this shit

for the few of you who may or may not read every post, you know i haven’t seen a leotard or tights since february. maybe even january. i had my first class on monday, and one again yesterday. and tomorrow. how i made it through those sweat and fire in the ankles/all muscles filled hours remains a mystery only to be solved by nancy drew herself.

that’s what i’ll do with my life. i’ll start a whole new series: book one = the case of stephanie’s missing muscle strength and endurance. sounds like a rousing tale of body odor and aching feet to me. i want coffee. shall return.

you know what doesn’t make sense to me? besides people who don’t like white wine and cats?

coffee stirrers. how in the actual FUCK do you expect me to properly distribute the powdered creamy goodness into my coffee made wrong by coworker with this minuscule barbie pole vault? yes i use powdered creamer, cause it’s way better than liquid. it’s also room temperature and doesn’t take away the slight burning sensation on the roof of your mouth that you savour later when you eat a chip and it practically slices open your entire face. do you see what i mean? stupid. stupid invention.

i really have no sense of literary (?) direction here.

where to now stephanie, oh grand poobah of pointless ramblings?

not pointless. must remind self that people find me amusing.

PLEASE LIKE MY SHITTTTTTT

forgetting your book on a long ass day

i’ve actually been having dreams about it, not that i’ve read it 3 times through or anything. i don’t have a problem starting a new series or venturing outside of 3 authors. no. no you can’t make me!

 we have a bondd 

why can’t i think coherently when i’m tired? honestly, i’m awake and shit so my neurons should be firing and having a tiny drug induced dance carnival inside my skull. that’d be nice right about now. 

it was suggested by a certain someone who i shall tell you all about later when the timing is right (because you really won’t be rational with me if i do it now and, quite frankly, i don’t want to hear your shit this early in the morning) that i make a hate list. seeing as i already have 300 things that suck, i figured a hate list would be redundant (sorry man) and completely the same thing. HA redundancy

besides, out of all the things that suck, i pretty much already hate them.

soooo without further ado, because i just know that you’ve all been checking your shit every day to see the next 100 things that truly, truly ruin my life, here you go. 

 

1.) coffee that goes room temperature immediately

2.) thermostats that run a year after your desired temperature has been reached

3.) quiet phone people

4.) dirty hair that you can literally smell

5.) cigarettes in the dead of winter

6.) that ominous “i just farted and i’m not sure that was all that happened” moment

7.) morning cigarettes and coffee combined

8.) having to pee so bad that you’re afraid to even fart

9.) streaky glass

10.) people who don’t wave back on the freeway

11.) people who don’t laugh when you cut a little rug in your car

12.) headaches from headbanging

13.) cracks in your nostrils for no apparent reason

14.) the tweaker itch you get when your vicodin wears off

15.) the fact that the shading on my 800 dollar tattoo isn’t entirely consistent

16.) knowing that no one else sees it

17.) crows

18.) any bird that makes any noise

19.) roadkill that’s placed just right so it’s impossible not to hit it again

20.) paper cuts

21.) hidden injuries that don’t hurt until you discover them

22.) pimples that simply can’t be bothered to pop

23.) pedestrians that feel the need to turn the crosswalk into a runway

24.) bitches who walk their tiny dogs in high heels

25.) high buns

26.) leggings masquerading as a proper pair of trousers

27.) chatty people who don’t register that you don’t want to talk

28.) guys who lick your chin because they think it’s sexy 

29.) being so irritated you’d rather be literally anywhere else

30.) people who offer you food when you’re clearly chewing gum

31.) gum that gets all tiny and hard when you chew it

32.) bad sunflower seeds

33.) knowing your lips will swell like they’ve had botox when you can’t stop eating sunflower seeds

34.) forgetting what you were just going to put for 34

35.) people who call everyone in their contact list when they’re in the waiting room

36.) men when they’re sick

37.) old men who try to follow in the hefner’s footsteps

38.) people who have blatantly nasty discussions within earshot

39.) people who thought 50 shades of grey was sexy

40.) the fact that i read all 3 books -______-

41.) fat people who park in handicapped spots

42.) fat people on scooters in the store

43.) fat people who breed fat children

44.) fat children

45.) fat children eating in the store

46.) the parents who let them do it

47.) trying to communicate with a hysterical child

48.) math

49.) having a license/degree that you possibly don’t want to use 

50.) people who drive at varying speeds

51.) people who come to a near stop for a curve in the road

52.) guys who don’t properly know how to drive a manual

53.) 1st gear. fuck that shit

54.) people who don’t like to read

55.) lotion that makes you smell weird

56.) the ladies who mace you with sample perfume

57.) makeup counter makeovers

58.) girls with expensive makeup that don’t know how to use it

59.) girls with a whole tube of mascara on their lashes

60.) a smoky eye gone hooker

61.) bars that employ tubby girls to wear their skimpy outfits

62.) when there’s a game at the bar, and the guy next to you yells and claps so loudly you just might spill your 8 dollar drink on his crotch 

63.) bitches who spill your drink and don’t even offer to buy you another one

64.) drunk girls who try to still be sexy even though it was over when they walked in 

65.) paper towels that leave fuzzies on your clean glass

66.) when a cat or dog goes to sit on you and they lift up their tail so that you’re in direct contact with their butthole

67.) dog farts

68.) people who bring their little dogs into the big dog area at the park

69.) dane cook

70.) when comedians talk about serious things

71.) your favourite band only ever seems to play in europe

72.) when the shower curtain molests you

73.) soap that always falls down and scares the living shit out of you

74.) when the last bit of your soap is stuck and you just wind up getting little chunks under your fingernails

75.) bubbles in your screen protector

76.) people who don’t catch on to sarcasm

77.) people who can’t believe you’ve never seen: breaking bad, game of thrones, 30 rock

78.) democrats

79.) the fact that you assumed i’m a republican

80.) extremists

81.) hoarders

82.) people that have themselves as their background

83.) tyra banks

84.) how bad america’s next top model got

85.) the accessory version of project runway

86.) when you thought tim gunn wasn’t going to be on project runway anymore

87.) people who don’t like tim gunn

88.) people that claim they practically discovered that indy band

89.) people who get butthurt when you start to like the same things

90.) people who use the word “mainstream” like it’s a dirty verb

91.) people that follow you

92.) people who don’t speak english because they choose not to. get the fuck out

93.) slow drivers that speed up only when they realize they’ve been passed

94.) long drives without your ipod

95.) slim jims with what appears to be frostbite

96.) slim jims that aren’t greasy

97.) too much sauce on your pizza

98.) giant chunks of tomato meant to be the sauce on your pizza

99.) the fact that i still love twilight even though it’s basically a dumbed down version of the sookie stackhouse novels

100.) annoying facebook pages that always post links that will most likely give you a virus

 

 

 

stupid people

tell me you don’t think i’m a thousand percent right on this one.

how many of you have ever wanted to tear open someone’s skull and shove webster’s dictionary along with a few key literary marvels in there? or simply strike your own dome on the nearest hard surface until you forget the fact that you were so annoyed by the simplicity of others?

every day. every fucking day. 

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this is me. also a shout out to english majour slash metal connoisseur brian for carrying on shakespearean conversations with me…..without ever slipping up on the grammar. lest i have to cut out your tongue and use it as a bookmark. 

have you ever taken notice to the fact that the books with the absolute shittiest cover art are the ones with the most epic story lines? you’re slightly embarrassed to hold the book at full mast when in public. sookie stackhouse anyone? come on, that has got to be the most juvenile excuse for cover art that i have ever seen in my 22 years of life. i’ve seen adolescent books with better imagery. by the way, the drawings are so heinous that it makes you wonder how the “artist” in question even got a job in the first place. the fuck kind of universe are we living in? i’ll tell you: one where jamba juice is a meal, where small dogs take up residence in two thousand dollar purses, where nipple rings on guys are sexy, where selena gomez is starring in an action film and the other main character refuses to kill her to save his wife. WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK. 

i obviously missed a key memo here that read: “you don’t actually need to be intelligent and eat real food. this is all fake.”

i need a redbull STAT minions. this watered down excuse for a cup of coffee only made me have to pee. 

must eat more cheez its.

have coffee tummy.

will travel, but not long distances without cigarettes and candy.

 

 

having to hold in a fart around a date

am i right? i mean, come on. i’ve had guys fart in front of me within a week of knowing each other.

i dated someone for FOUR YEARS and never once did i fail to unclench my cheeks and let loose with wind. mind you, i made excuses to go into another room where i knew they wouldn’t be for a while so i could mull around and turn on the crop duster. side note, nothing brightens my day more than when my dear sweet, deaf in one ear when she says “coloured people” grandmother gets up to scoot down the hall, and she farts the whole length. can she not feel it, or does she just not give a fuck in her old age? man i can’t wait to be a senior citizen, that means i can fart whenever the moment strikes me. since i won’t be attractive (physically or emotionally: i suspect my general malice towards the human race will only fester and increase with the years) i won’t have to worry about giving anyone the impression that i’m still a lady.

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have you ever carried on an entire conversation with just the rage faces? i’ll have you know it’s quite stimulating to whatever part of the brain controls the funny shit. that part of my brain is constantly in overdrive. there must be some scientifical thing where the part that’s supposed to give a shit about how other people are feeling and generally be sympathetic to the masses has actually given all it’s energy to the part that makes me love whiskey, cigarettes, and talking shit about anyone i see with a high bun and leggings for pants.

ladies, please stop it. you look absolutely ridiculous.

asinine.

love that word.

dear minions, i love you so and i wish to share that i am feeling much more emotionally stable. i thank you for reading my depressing, and let’s face it, nowhere near funny blogs for the past i don’t knowwwwwww

i really don’t know how long it’s been and how many entries righteously sucked with non funniness. but there you have it.

p.s. i just went through this entry as a sort of proof reading adventure, and i found one sentence so badly worded that i laughed heartily at my own misfortune. i decided to keep the sentence and see who actually catches on to my folly.

i quote: “i dated someone for FOUR YEARS and never once did i fail to unclench my cheeks and let loose with wind.”

ladies and gentleman, this sentence would quite literally imply that i farted in front of him. so stupid. but it’s the merriment that counts here. enjoy your day, and imagine me farting like a man.

FLIES

sweet baby jesus this little bastard is going to be bouncing off all the glass surfaces and stalking my treats ALL DAY now. 

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i think the fly is dead now. or someone has released it from captivity back into its natural habitat, where i hope all the carbon monoxide shortens its already outlived existence. 

enjoy yourselves. i’m probably dying of food poisoning right now. i want to go home and vomit. 

using reality to gain attention

i joined the instagram family recently. sure it’s been nice to have a new outlet. but tonight i saw something so sickening it really made me question where in the fuck our world is going.

being a cutter myself, you’d think her page would be more or less a means to communicate and share with others about my experiences. this fucking moron glorifies her self mutilation as something to be worshipped, or pitied even. i hate to be the one to say this, because this is how it all started for me: but her little kitten scratches don’t come close to depicting what it’s actually like to rip open your own flesh as a means to grab some sort of leash on your own course. there is no point in posting pictures of your cuts, i learned the hard way that the only type of attention you’ll attract is positively negative. it is completely absurd to assume that you’re helping anyone by posting that.
you absolutely disgust me.

i was in her shoes, pleading for someone to recognize my pain. but the only gain i received from those 7 years was my own. when you stop cutting for others and start for yourself, your new life begins. and you better hope you’re prepared or else you’ll wither under the pressure and crumble beneath the staggering weight of that blade.

customers who complain about your magazine collection

really dude? like anyone looks at that shit anyway. this may not be a doctor’s office but you have to know that any room deemed “the waiting room” is bound to be filled to the brim with outdated articles and 10 ways to lose your belly fat. besides the point, you can’t target one area of your body and expect it to surrender all those little fatty cells that are hoarding all the carbs and sugars you insist on consuming. another word for over consumption: MURICA.

now i’m just getting distracted. but that’s ok because i really have no idea what kind of a tirade i plan (?) to go on today. not that i ever do, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

the tiniest person just walked into the office. i’m not sure how old this kid is, but he’s been bringing in that bonneville for a couple years now, and lord knows he resembles an old lady driving from behind. DUDE’S LITTLE. another thing, when he told me it was getting the freon recharged, it came out more like “retard.” and i haven’t even had my redbull yet. 

is it tomorrow yet? cause guess what minions: i’ll be drinking wine on a roof whilst wearing my red bottom badass bitches. i know what you’re thinking: these white bitches just loveee to wear they high heels and try to get hammered on rooftops. they fall off erry time. you’re wrong, it’s actually a fancy (as fancy as lancaster blvd gets) place. 

i’ll probably still fall off.

it’s josie’s birthday, maybeee i should stick to 2 glasses. 

i won’t.

who are we kidding?

need new topic. HALP.

my sleeve is almost finished. hopefully monday i get my much needed therapy. you know what gets me? it’s obviously a fucking peacock, but people still feel the need to ask what it is. my last response was ” a dodo bird” because i feel bad about them going extinct and shit. also, i follow the shop i got to on facebook. i saw a cover up to end all cover ups, and i sincerely don’t mean this in a good way. the original piece was some dude’s name with a little clover next to it. the cover up, and get this ladies and honkies, was a giant clover with some other dudes name right underneath it. the redundancy level is TOO DAMN HIGH. this bitch is stupid as fuckkkk.

my coffee’s gone room temperature on me, i suppose that makes it iced coffee now because my nipples are falling off it’s so cold in this office. but the minute i step outside my fortress of paper work and social media, my figurative balls are sticking to my leg like an annoying child that trails around your ankles at an amusement park all day. don’t you love my specifics? there’s no happy medium here.