As of 4pm today, I've chosen my Halloween costume. Actually, I didn't come up with it, so I guess I should say that I went along with the idea given to me. A few of my friends wanted me to come with them to the bars tonight, but I said I didn't really have a costume and that I wasn't going to spend an obscene amount of money on one. A few hours later, my friend called me and told me, "I have the best idea for your costume....a slutty ski instructor!" Perrrrrrfect. I looked in my closet and was convinced that I could pull this off. I'm going to wear my Uggs, a black mini skirt, a thermal long-sleeved tshirt and a insulated vest...as well as sunglasses that look similar to goggles, a hat that looks like it came straight from Mikhail Gorbachev's private selection, and a badge that says "sex (with a line through it to signify the mistake) ski instructor. My pick up line for hte night will be something along the lines of "Yeah, I'm a ski instructor...do you want me to show you how to work that pole?" As I become more drunk, it might change. Something closer to, "Hey. I..Wow you're cute.....umm, wanna fuck?" There may or may not be a crotch grab along with that.
One of my best friends here at school just broke up with her boyfriend of a few years and wants to get obscenely drunk, so I promised her that we'd get so drunk that we'd forget our cup sizes tonight. I'm really just being a good friend...
Friday, October 31, 2008
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Halloweiner.
When a college student decides to dress up and participate in the festivities of Halloween, there are only two options for costumes: bare it all or make sure your costume is damn funny. For girls, it leans towards the bare it all option. Halloween is said to be the only time when a girl can dress like a slut and not be called on it however, I disagree. If you dress like a slut on Halloween, it's because you want attention and figure that other girls are going to be skanking it up just as much, so why wouldn't you? Dignity and birthmark that nobody knows about be damned. Wear a corset and a witch's hat and voila! You're a sexy wench. Congratulations.
So, when I googled Halloween costumes, you can only imagine the results that turned up. Lover's Lane, Frederick's of Hollywood, Chelsea's of New York, all places known for their lingerie are in the business of selling Halloween costumes. In reality, you pay $80+ for a camisole, a skirt, and some lace. You can be the slut nurse, the slut teacher, the slut cop, the slut stewardess, the slut librarian, the slut vampire, the slut coroner (necrophilia anyone?), and even the slut mental patient, see "Ella Mental". What a fantastic variety of options, isn't it? Just make sure you have at least a C cup to fill out the bustier and a plump ass to round out the skirt. Porn makeup is optional.
For girls like me, who are very sexual and sensual, but don't feel the need to expose their ass cheeks at any given opportunity, Halloween becomes kind of awkward. Do we dress up as Little Bo Peep-my-double D-titties, or do we try and do something creative like attaching rocks to yourself and tell everyone that you're "Stoned." Do we sprinkle glitter on our cleavage to look like we just had a quickie with Tinker Belle or do we apply fake blood and brain matter on our bodies? See, it's a tough call. Either you're going to send the message of being "that girl" or you're going to get odd glances and "So, what are you supposed to be" questions all night and end up back in your bed alone at the end of the night.
As for me, I think I might wear my Brian Urlacher jersey, my Bears' witches hat.....and a miniskirt with stiletto pumps. I guess I could say I'm his future ex-wife (the witch hat would mean ex-wife?) or I could just laugh that question off and walk my miniskirt-clad ass off.
So, when I googled Halloween costumes, you can only imagine the results that turned up. Lover's Lane, Frederick's of Hollywood, Chelsea's of New York, all places known for their lingerie are in the business of selling Halloween costumes. In reality, you pay $80+ for a camisole, a skirt, and some lace. You can be the slut nurse, the slut teacher, the slut cop, the slut stewardess, the slut librarian, the slut vampire, the slut coroner (necrophilia anyone?), and even the slut mental patient, see "Ella Mental". What a fantastic variety of options, isn't it? Just make sure you have at least a C cup to fill out the bustier and a plump ass to round out the skirt. Porn makeup is optional.
For girls like me, who are very sexual and sensual, but don't feel the need to expose their ass cheeks at any given opportunity, Halloween becomes kind of awkward. Do we dress up as Little Bo Peep-my-double D-titties, or do we try and do something creative like attaching rocks to yourself and tell everyone that you're "Stoned." Do we sprinkle glitter on our cleavage to look like we just had a quickie with Tinker Belle or do we apply fake blood and brain matter on our bodies? See, it's a tough call. Either you're going to send the message of being "that girl" or you're going to get odd glances and "So, what are you supposed to be" questions all night and end up back in your bed alone at the end of the night.
As for me, I think I might wear my Brian Urlacher jersey, my Bears' witches hat.....and a miniskirt with stiletto pumps. I guess I could say I'm his future ex-wife (the witch hat would mean ex-wife?) or I could just laugh that question off and walk my miniskirt-clad ass off.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Let the countdown begin
I'll be 21 in a little under 3 weeks. It's hard to believe that I'm in my third year of college. It seems like a year ago that I got my driver's license and it seems like three months ago that I was first able to legally purchase my first pack of cigarettes (Parliaments). Now I'll soon be able to purchase my own booze without having to expose some cleavage or drop a $10 for someone to run and get me some alcohol. Now, of course the only thing I'll have to look forward to in correlation with age is lower car insurance at 25. How exciting.
Since I'm home for fall break and because I probably won't be home again until Thanksgiving, my older sister is taking me shopping tomorrow for my birthday present. She's a very good gift giver, mostly because she's a terrible bitch most of the time, so when she has the opportunity to make up for it in materialistic ways, she jumps at it. She called me over the weekend and asked me what I wanted. I really hadn't thought about it. I like receiving gifts and all, but by and large, it just escapes my mind. I knew she'd be willing to spend a significant amount of money because that's just the way she is, regardless of her moving out soon (but that's another post entirely, remind me about it sometime and I'll write about it). I thought about what she could get me that I needed. Being a poor college student has provided me with a certain level of frugality, especially in terms of getting essentials from family members when they offer. I looked around my dorm room, feeling satisfied as I cataloged my belongings. I could ask for anti-virus software, but that's so mundane even if it is essential. I could ask for a black ink cartridge since mine is out, but again, very mundane, plus my professors seem to like getting my essays in greens and purples.
Then, I looked through my make-up bag. That could definitely use some upgrading. I usually don't buy make-up too often because when I do purchase make-up, I buy quality products. I prefer MAC cosmetics for my eyes and Bare Minerals for my face because it's so light and doesn't give a girl that caked on clown make-up look. I was first allowed to wear make-up when I was 13, and then it was only neutral eyeshadows and some lip gloss that was really just colored chapstick. By freshman year, I experimented with a few of my older sister's discarded CoverGirl products that she had replaced with pricier and more "sophisticated" name brand products. Soon, I received quite a few compliments at my newfound hobby. One compliment, well I assume it was a compliment, came from this shy, quirky girl in my honors lit class. "You look like a mermaid with your eyeshadow! It's really pretty," she stated quickly and then looked down at her desk. I stuck to this look for awhile, but then after I got sick, I stopped caring about make-up for obvious reasons.
I didn't get back into make-up until right before freshman year of college when my older sister took me to the newly opened MAC store in the local mall. We both got our make-up done by MAC make-up artists and my sister bought me two shades that the artist had used for my eyeshadow. I still have those eyeshadows and they still are in great condition and apply just as good as before, leading me to my love for MAC products. Since then, I've bought several MAC products and I'm going to let my sister purchase me a few more. I think I'll get my make-up done again by a MAC artist and then buy whatever she uses. I'm thinking a Kim Kardashian smokey eye look. We'll see what the artist recommends, though. I'm tempted to get all dolled up and then get my make-up professionally done and then hookup with Douchebag. I mean, smokey eyes can do a lot for a woman, and add in my excellent oral skills, I think he just might cream his pants if I combine the two for him.
I was talking to one of my best friends about the the second hookup with Douchebag and I could feel him shaking his head as I told him through AIM. I didn't mention this in my other post, but after about five minutes of making out, Douchebag's nose started bleeding a little bit. Not profusely or anything, just a little bit. I got kind of freaked out and tried to get up to grab a kleenex, but he insisted it was fine and that it was because he recently rebroke his nose. Apparently he's broken his nose a lot, I know he used to box, but I don't think he's done that in awhile. Anyways, after a few minutes the slight bleeding stopped and we went on our way. I should say that I went on my way, but whatever. When I told my friend this, he said, "That's a sign from every god ever created telling you to stay the fuck away from him." I laughed as I read that, but I mean it could be true. Do things like that happen? I believe that everything happens for a reason, but really? A nose bleed, God? You're going to have to be a little less subtle than that.
Only time will tell, I suppose. As for now, I'm just going to let my philosophical thoughts simmer as I countdown to the possible blackout of my 21st birthday and the many praises my older sister will get after buying me expensive makeup.
Since I'm home for fall break and because I probably won't be home again until Thanksgiving, my older sister is taking me shopping tomorrow for my birthday present. She's a very good gift giver, mostly because she's a terrible bitch most of the time, so when she has the opportunity to make up for it in materialistic ways, she jumps at it. She called me over the weekend and asked me what I wanted. I really hadn't thought about it. I like receiving gifts and all, but by and large, it just escapes my mind. I knew she'd be willing to spend a significant amount of money because that's just the way she is, regardless of her moving out soon (but that's another post entirely, remind me about it sometime and I'll write about it). I thought about what she could get me that I needed. Being a poor college student has provided me with a certain level of frugality, especially in terms of getting essentials from family members when they offer. I looked around my dorm room, feeling satisfied as I cataloged my belongings. I could ask for anti-virus software, but that's so mundane even if it is essential. I could ask for a black ink cartridge since mine is out, but again, very mundane, plus my professors seem to like getting my essays in greens and purples.
Then, I looked through my make-up bag. That could definitely use some upgrading. I usually don't buy make-up too often because when I do purchase make-up, I buy quality products. I prefer MAC cosmetics for my eyes and Bare Minerals for my face because it's so light and doesn't give a girl that caked on clown make-up look. I was first allowed to wear make-up when I was 13, and then it was only neutral eyeshadows and some lip gloss that was really just colored chapstick. By freshman year, I experimented with a few of my older sister's discarded CoverGirl products that she had replaced with pricier and more "sophisticated" name brand products. Soon, I received quite a few compliments at my newfound hobby. One compliment, well I assume it was a compliment, came from this shy, quirky girl in my honors lit class. "You look like a mermaid with your eyeshadow! It's really pretty," she stated quickly and then looked down at her desk. I stuck to this look for awhile, but then after I got sick, I stopped caring about make-up for obvious reasons.
I didn't get back into make-up until right before freshman year of college when my older sister took me to the newly opened MAC store in the local mall. We both got our make-up done by MAC make-up artists and my sister bought me two shades that the artist had used for my eyeshadow. I still have those eyeshadows and they still are in great condition and apply just as good as before, leading me to my love for MAC products. Since then, I've bought several MAC products and I'm going to let my sister purchase me a few more. I think I'll get my make-up done again by a MAC artist and then buy whatever she uses. I'm thinking a Kim Kardashian smokey eye look. We'll see what the artist recommends, though. I'm tempted to get all dolled up and then get my make-up professionally done and then hookup with Douchebag. I mean, smokey eyes can do a lot for a woman, and add in my excellent oral skills, I think he just might cream his pants if I combine the two for him.
I was talking to one of my best friends about the the second hookup with Douchebag and I could feel him shaking his head as I told him through AIM. I didn't mention this in my other post, but after about five minutes of making out, Douchebag's nose started bleeding a little bit. Not profusely or anything, just a little bit. I got kind of freaked out and tried to get up to grab a kleenex, but he insisted it was fine and that it was because he recently rebroke his nose. Apparently he's broken his nose a lot, I know he used to box, but I don't think he's done that in awhile. Anyways, after a few minutes the slight bleeding stopped and we went on our way. I should say that I went on my way, but whatever. When I told my friend this, he said, "That's a sign from every god ever created telling you to stay the fuck away from him." I laughed as I read that, but I mean it could be true. Do things like that happen? I believe that everything happens for a reason, but really? A nose bleed, God? You're going to have to be a little less subtle than that.
Only time will tell, I suppose. As for now, I'm just going to let my philosophical thoughts simmer as I countdown to the possible blackout of my 21st birthday and the many praises my older sister will get after buying me expensive makeup.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
There's semen on my favorite sweatshirt
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Thursday, October 16, 2008
I didn't see this coming.
Douchebag texted me tonight. I heard the little musical tone as I was reading through Hegelian philosophy at noticed the 9-digit number signifying that this person wasn't in my phone's SIM card. I knew when I opened the message that it was him. The text "I really want you" confirmed my thoughts. I laughed and shook my head as I read it. Really? Really? I debated how much of a bitch I should be back to him, but I ended up just being cold. So, I texted him back. "Hm. So what's with the games then?"
"What games? I haven't done anything," he replied. Yeah, well that's kind of the problem, isn't it?
"You tell me you're going to come over then don't show. I'm done with trying and not receiving."
"Alright...I can see your point," he said. What? I don't even know what that is supposed to fucking mean. I see your point? Really, well I'm glad that's cleared up, fuckface.
"Um, alright..."I didn't know what he wanted me to say, and more importantly I didn't give a fuck.
"I don't feel that way, I'd like to come see you or you can come over here if you want."
Did he really just invite me over? After fucking ditching me for the upteenth time, he's under the impression that I'll allow something to happen with him? I think this is one of the many reasons that boys my age complain about not getting any action. They try to play a smooth game so that they can keep several girls on stand by, sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. I'm not going to lie, I've played the same game because I'm admittedly a selfish cunt who only cares about what makes me happy. But I don't feel that way anymore. Yes I want to have fun and be happy, but true happiness can't possibly come from the selfishness of adolescence.
"I really don't care. I'm coming home for Fall break on Sunday," I told him. I wanted to make him wonder if that was an affirmation or if it was a rejection.
"Well...I mean you can come over to my place." Yeah. Yeah, I bet I could, couldn't I? And then suck your cock, perhaps have sex, or perhaps get eaten out for a whole of three minutes. Sounds so exciting.
The only problem that I see happening is my hormones interfering. I'm on my period and for the week after my period, I am always at my horniest. My period ends tomorrow. Gods of fucking, have mercy on my soul.
"What games? I haven't done anything," he replied. Yeah, well that's kind of the problem, isn't it?
"You tell me you're going to come over then don't show. I'm done with trying and not receiving."
"Alright...I can see your point," he said. What? I don't even know what that is supposed to fucking mean. I see your point? Really, well I'm glad that's cleared up, fuckface.
"Um, alright..."I didn't know what he wanted me to say, and more importantly I didn't give a fuck.
"I don't feel that way, I'd like to come see you or you can come over here if you want."
Did he really just invite me over? After fucking ditching me for the upteenth time, he's under the impression that I'll allow something to happen with him? I think this is one of the many reasons that boys my age complain about not getting any action. They try to play a smooth game so that they can keep several girls on stand by, sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. I'm not going to lie, I've played the same game because I'm admittedly a selfish cunt who only cares about what makes me happy. But I don't feel that way anymore. Yes I want to have fun and be happy, but true happiness can't possibly come from the selfishness of adolescence.
"I really don't care. I'm coming home for Fall break on Sunday," I told him. I wanted to make him wonder if that was an affirmation or if it was a rejection.
"Well...I mean you can come over to my place." Yeah. Yeah, I bet I could, couldn't I? And then suck your cock, perhaps have sex, or perhaps get eaten out for a whole of three minutes. Sounds so exciting.
The only problem that I see happening is my hormones interfering. I'm on my period and for the week after my period, I am always at my horniest. My period ends tomorrow. Gods of fucking, have mercy on my soul.
Monday, October 13, 2008
"She sounds hot!"
Can you tell by a person's voice how physically attractive they are? Is it some kind of subliminal connection that one makes to a voice they already know when they are talking on the phone to a person they have never seen before? Maybe it's similar to how pheromones work, maybe a voice can trigger a behavioral response to the stimuli.
A few close friends and I had a girls' night this past weekend. We kicked our male friends out of the room and pulled out the booze. It was a night filled with Southern Comfort and limeade and pictures and prank phone calls. We acted like 15 year old girls on a sugar high during a sleepover. After calling many ex-boyfriends and fucktards that we have met over the years, we decided to call people that we actually liked. My one friend from out of state called a friend from back home. After saying hello quickly, she handed me the phone. I began a soco and lime saturated conversation with a guy whose name I couldn't pronounce and who was getting ready to host a party. My friend pulled up his pictures on Facebook and my drunken horny self was intrigued enough to make a jackass out of myself. "Wow, why didn't you tell me you had a hot fucking body, dude?" I said.
"Are you Facebook stalking me?"
"Ummm....yeah, I am. Sorry."
At that point I heard someone in the background say "Who are you talking to?" over the dunking sound of a ping pong ball being sunk into a cup of beer.
"K's friend from Chicago. She sounds fucking hot!" he replied.
Huh? I mean, thanks for the compliment and all, but you have no idea what I look like. I didn't acknowledge the statement, I just rambled on about shit that I really can't remember. Then, he asked me if I had brown curly hair, which I affirmed kind of creeped out.
"How did you know that??"
"Oh, I just know. I get along great with girls with brown curly hair."
Oh. Uh-huh...I actually wasn't too shocked by this, maybe because of the booze. We chatted for awhile and got each other's numbers since I was talking on my friend's phone.
Isn't it weird how people can have a feeling about how a person looks based on their voice? For instance, sometimes it's easy to tell that you're talking to a black male or an asian woman on the phone. But, what I really mean is beyond this generic labeling. Before I saw a picture of this guy, I thought he had a hot voice, but he sounded kind of southern to me, which might have reminded me of my ex-boyfriend who was from Kentucky (and he was a fucking stud). Then, when I did see his picture, I really did think he was hot. Was I previously influenced by my connection to my hot ex? Maybe. I'm feeling very philosophical today I guess. Taking a few courses at a liberal arts school will do that to a person, I suppose.
Oh, and the next day, mr. "She sounds hot" friended me on Facebook. I guess he wanted to find out if I was what he imagined me to be.
A few close friends and I had a girls' night this past weekend. We kicked our male friends out of the room and pulled out the booze. It was a night filled with Southern Comfort and limeade and pictures and prank phone calls. We acted like 15 year old girls on a sugar high during a sleepover. After calling many ex-boyfriends and fucktards that we have met over the years, we decided to call people that we actually liked. My one friend from out of state called a friend from back home. After saying hello quickly, she handed me the phone. I began a soco and lime saturated conversation with a guy whose name I couldn't pronounce and who was getting ready to host a party. My friend pulled up his pictures on Facebook and my drunken horny self was intrigued enough to make a jackass out of myself. "Wow, why didn't you tell me you had a hot fucking body, dude?" I said.
"Are you Facebook stalking me?"
"Ummm....yeah, I am. Sorry."
At that point I heard someone in the background say "Who are you talking to?" over the dunking sound of a ping pong ball being sunk into a cup of beer.
"K's friend from Chicago. She sounds fucking hot!" he replied.
Huh? I mean, thanks for the compliment and all, but you have no idea what I look like. I didn't acknowledge the statement, I just rambled on about shit that I really can't remember. Then, he asked me if I had brown curly hair, which I affirmed kind of creeped out.
"How did you know that??"
"Oh, I just know. I get along great with girls with brown curly hair."
Oh. Uh-huh...I actually wasn't too shocked by this, maybe because of the booze. We chatted for awhile and got each other's numbers since I was talking on my friend's phone.
Isn't it weird how people can have a feeling about how a person looks based on their voice? For instance, sometimes it's easy to tell that you're talking to a black male or an asian woman on the phone. But, what I really mean is beyond this generic labeling. Before I saw a picture of this guy, I thought he had a hot voice, but he sounded kind of southern to me, which might have reminded me of my ex-boyfriend who was from Kentucky (and he was a fucking stud). Then, when I did see his picture, I really did think he was hot. Was I previously influenced by my connection to my hot ex? Maybe. I'm feeling very philosophical today I guess. Taking a few courses at a liberal arts school will do that to a person, I suppose.
Oh, and the next day, mr. "She sounds hot" friended me on Facebook. I guess he wanted to find out if I was what he imagined me to be.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Can I Count This as a Program?
As I was putting up mandated fliers on my floor for part of my RA duties, I stopped by a few of my residents' dorms. Some were sleeping, others were looking for an excuse to stop their homework, so I happily obliged. Two of my girls were having a good chat with me when another stopped in to join the fun. That's when it happened. I noticed a condom taped to the back of their door. I laughed and asked the girls if there was a story behind this or if they were just keeping it there in case of a protection emergency. This, right here, is how RAs get fired.
I grabbed the condom off the door and ripped it open, finding it super lubed. I instructed my girls, now 4 of them in the hallway, that you must make sure the tip is outward. I proceeded to blow it up into a balloon but had a hell of a rough time tying the knot because of the lube. We bounced it around playing keep it up (no pun intended) when one of my boy residents stepped out of his room. He took one look at us, smiled, and walked right back into his room. I don't blame him.
After a few minutes of talking about condoms, I asked if any of the girls had lotion. Of course, they're chicks, they have some lotion. We squirted some lotion into the condom to make it look sufficiently used. Believable at a quick glance or distance to say the least. We continued our talk as two of my RA colleagues walked into the hall on rounds. I shhhed my residents as I greeted my colleagues with my hands behind my back. Then, I did it. I did what no RA should do in front of their residents. I threw the condom on my male colleagues face. A look of horror crossed his face as the lubed and lotioned condom slid down his cheek and neck. His Irish face turned bright red as he watched it fall to the floor. "What......the...fucking shit?!" he exclaimed, outraged.
Ohh, Paddy, don't worry, it's not used. I assured him that it was just a joke and he wouldn't be getting an STD from it and he and the other RA went on with their business. This is one of the reasons that I'm the best fucking RA ever. I mean, besides my general coolness. I broke some sad news to my girls after having buttered them up with a good time on a Wacky Wednesday. The sad news is that my boss shot down my idea of having a toy party for my residents. I mean, there wouldn't just be toys, there would be accessories and stuff, too, but I guess a Catholic school like mine couldn't give me a yes on this one. Even though there have been issues already this year with people fucking in the communal showers. Shudder. If I step in semen, I'm going to be pretty upset, I'm forewarning every male that lives in my building of this. I will DNA test that spunk and hunt you down. Punishment may include being tied up...just saying...
I grabbed the condom off the door and ripped it open, finding it super lubed. I instructed my girls, now 4 of them in the hallway, that you must make sure the tip is outward. I proceeded to blow it up into a balloon but had a hell of a rough time tying the knot because of the lube. We bounced it around playing keep it up (no pun intended) when one of my boy residents stepped out of his room. He took one look at us, smiled, and walked right back into his room. I don't blame him.
After a few minutes of talking about condoms, I asked if any of the girls had lotion. Of course, they're chicks, they have some lotion. We squirted some lotion into the condom to make it look sufficiently used. Believable at a quick glance or distance to say the least. We continued our talk as two of my RA colleagues walked into the hall on rounds. I shhhed my residents as I greeted my colleagues with my hands behind my back. Then, I did it. I did what no RA should do in front of their residents. I threw the condom on my male colleagues face. A look of horror crossed his face as the lubed and lotioned condom slid down his cheek and neck. His Irish face turned bright red as he watched it fall to the floor. "What......the...fucking shit?!" he exclaimed, outraged.
Ohh, Paddy, don't worry, it's not used. I assured him that it was just a joke and he wouldn't be getting an STD from it and he and the other RA went on with their business. This is one of the reasons that I'm the best fucking RA ever. I mean, besides my general coolness. I broke some sad news to my girls after having buttered them up with a good time on a Wacky Wednesday. The sad news is that my boss shot down my idea of having a toy party for my residents. I mean, there wouldn't just be toys, there would be accessories and stuff, too, but I guess a Catholic school like mine couldn't give me a yes on this one. Even though there have been issues already this year with people fucking in the communal showers. Shudder. If I step in semen, I'm going to be pretty upset, I'm forewarning every male that lives in my building of this. I will DNA test that spunk and hunt you down. Punishment may include being tied up...just saying...
Monday, October 6, 2008
Ramble on
School and work interrupted my online life. Papers about modern technology and earth sciences and the Savanna biome and the Golden Age of the United Dutch Republic have consumed me the past week or so. Remind me why I'm in college again. As I saved what seemed like the 97th historiographical (it's a word, I promise) essay on themes of European history, I let out a sigh of relief. Then I walked outside with my cigarettes and lighter to sit in the quad and have a lovely night smoke.
Right, I started smoking again. I buy a few packs a year, just every now and then when I get the urge. I stopped at the 7-11 near my house to buy some chocolate milk when I saw the cigarette selection behind the counter just asking for me to buy a pack. "Umm..Can I get a pack of Camel no. 9s?" I asked the emo girl behind the counter. "Sure...wait, you know they came out with something new. Have you tried the Camel Crush ones?" She had my attention. Why, no, I haven't tried them. But I will.
Camel is making a lot of money from college kids right about now. Everyone I see smoking at the designated smoking spots on campus are smoking Camel Crushes. The have a nifty little spot on the filter where you squeeze the cigarette and hear this satisfying snap sound to signify the menthol being released. It's like two cigarettes in one: regular camel, or menthols. The menthol is actually very different from any I've had. It tastes almost minty and is quite refreshing, and actually limits the terrible smoker's breath that one usually gets after enjoying a nice tobacco product. They are very rejuvenating as far as cigarettes go and I feel that I have done my smoker duty of informing other potential smokers of this find. Camel, feel free to pay me in a box of your delicious Crushes.
In other news, I've been obsessed with finding new music. Speficically songs to fuck to. I do not mean songs to make love to your husband/wife of 35 years with. I mean nasty, dirty, I-can't-really-hear-the-music-because-all-the-blood-in-my-body-is-in-my-genitals, music. My computer's recent search history is filled with variations of "Songs to fuck to," "Sex songs," "Fucking songs," "Fucking sex songs," and even, "Songs for whores." Laugh if you want, I did at some of the entries. Yes, yes, we're all aware that Marvin Gaye's "Let's Get it on" is a classic, but that doesn't really make me want to fuck so hard that I'll have an aneurysm. Most lists that I found were quite pathetic. Someone actually listed Hall & Oates on their getting laid playlist. Really? Hall & Oates? For shame, for shame.
This led me to compile my own list of music that I like/would like to fuck to. Here goes, ladies and gents:
"She Rides"-Danzig
"Closer"-NIN (duh, this song's lyrics do go "I want to fuck you like an animal")
"Stranglehold"-Ted Nugent. Very sexy beat. And it's over 8 minutes. Long strip-tease, anyone?
"Doin' it"-LL Cool J. Makes me think of his tongue action.....
"Crazy Bitch"-Buckcherry ("You're crazy, but I like the way you fuck me")
"Nasty, Naughty Boy"- Christina Aguilerra. Ms. Dirty herself.
"Whatta Man"-En Vogue.
"Slow Motion"-Juvenile
"Blindfold Me"- Kelis ("When he wants it, he blindfolds me, then I get sexy on")
"Flex"-Mad Cobra. Has a funky, reggae type of feel. It's hot.
"One"-Metallica. It's edgy, long, and has James Hetfield's voice. Need I say more?
"Fuel"-Metallica. If a guy can keep up with the pace of this song, I will marry him.
"Enter Sandman"-Metallica. It's fucking Metallica, who doesn't want to fuck to their music?
"Shout at the Devil"-Motley Crue
"Pimp Juice"-Nelly.
"Maneater"-Nelly Furtado
"Dragula"-Rob Zombie
"Booty Meat"-Soulja Boy
"Oops (Oh my)"-Tweet
"Touch it"-Monifah
"Mother Russia"-Iron Maiden
Well, there is my list. Diverse, hard, and sexy. I'd be interested in some suggestions, so suggest away.
Right, I started smoking again. I buy a few packs a year, just every now and then when I get the urge. I stopped at the 7-11 near my house to buy some chocolate milk when I saw the cigarette selection behind the counter just asking for me to buy a pack. "Umm..Can I get a pack of Camel no. 9s?" I asked the emo girl behind the counter. "Sure...wait, you know they came out with something new. Have you tried the Camel Crush ones?" She had my attention. Why, no, I haven't tried them. But I will.
Camel is making a lot of money from college kids right about now. Everyone I see smoking at the designated smoking spots on campus are smoking Camel Crushes. The have a nifty little spot on the filter where you squeeze the cigarette and hear this satisfying snap sound to signify the menthol being released. It's like two cigarettes in one: regular camel, or menthols. The menthol is actually very different from any I've had. It tastes almost minty and is quite refreshing, and actually limits the terrible smoker's breath that one usually gets after enjoying a nice tobacco product. They are very rejuvenating as far as cigarettes go and I feel that I have done my smoker duty of informing other potential smokers of this find. Camel, feel free to pay me in a box of your delicious Crushes.
In other news, I've been obsessed with finding new music. Speficically songs to fuck to. I do not mean songs to make love to your husband/wife of 35 years with. I mean nasty, dirty, I-can't-really-hear-the-music-because-all-the-blood-in-my-body-is-in-my-genitals, music. My computer's recent search history is filled with variations of "Songs to fuck to," "Sex songs," "Fucking songs," "Fucking sex songs," and even, "Songs for whores." Laugh if you want, I did at some of the entries. Yes, yes, we're all aware that Marvin Gaye's "Let's Get it on" is a classic, but that doesn't really make me want to fuck so hard that I'll have an aneurysm. Most lists that I found were quite pathetic. Someone actually listed Hall & Oates on their getting laid playlist. Really? Hall & Oates? For shame, for shame.
This led me to compile my own list of music that I like/would like to fuck to. Here goes, ladies and gents:
"She Rides"-Danzig
"Closer"-NIN (duh, this song's lyrics do go "I want to fuck you like an animal")
"Stranglehold"-Ted Nugent. Very sexy beat. And it's over 8 minutes. Long strip-tease, anyone?
"Doin' it"-LL Cool J. Makes me think of his tongue action.....
"Crazy Bitch"-Buckcherry ("You're crazy, but I like the way you fuck me")
"Nasty, Naughty Boy"- Christina Aguilerra. Ms. Dirty herself.
"Whatta Man"-En Vogue.
"Slow Motion"-Juvenile
"Blindfold Me"- Kelis ("When he wants it, he blindfolds me, then I get sexy on")
"Flex"-Mad Cobra. Has a funky, reggae type of feel. It's hot.
"One"-Metallica. It's edgy, long, and has James Hetfield's voice. Need I say more?
"Fuel"-Metallica. If a guy can keep up with the pace of this song, I will marry him.
"Enter Sandman"-Metallica. It's fucking Metallica, who doesn't want to fuck to their music?
"Shout at the Devil"-Motley Crue
"Pimp Juice"-Nelly.
"Maneater"-Nelly Furtado
"Dragula"-Rob Zombie
"Booty Meat"-Soulja Boy
"Oops (Oh my)"-Tweet
"Touch it"-Monifah
"Mother Russia"-Iron Maiden
Well, there is my list. Diverse, hard, and sexy. I'd be interested in some suggestions, so suggest away.
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