Sunday, September 21, 2008

Douches and alcohol are never a good mix

Men, just because you buy a drink for a chick doesn't mean she's going to take you home and hop on your bologna pony. True, There are some girls that are skanky, desperate and didn't bring their wallets and they are more than happy to trade coochie for free drinks all night. I'm not one of those special ladies. And really, who wants to fuck some gutterwhore that's willing to dish it out to any guy that hands her a free cranberry and vodka? You're just asking for peepee warts. This is how epidemics start.

I love how there are the guys that feel they are owed something if they open up their wallets and shell out those $6 for beer and then act genuinely moronic and downright prick-y when they don't get that "something" they feel is coming to them. Seriously, since when does $6 buy you a handjob? This isn't Mexico and there you're probably running the risk of that hot senorita who only charges a 5 spot not being ALL senorita.

Thursday night I went out with a few of my girls for our new tradition; Thirsty Thursdays. We figure if you slap a cute name on a drinking event it sounds a little less like we're borderline alcoholics getting plastered on a week night. We ran into plenty potential drink buyers, however because I don't like to hear grown men whine I have recently decided to stop accepting free drinks. I love nothing more to take advantage of a walking hard-on, however having to clean up his broken soul when he learns he's not penetrating my panties is a task I don't enjoy undertaking when I'm 6 beers in. However, there was a particularly cute guy who kept insisting on buying me a shot. At first I said no, but after he sat and actually talked with my group for a good while I decided to take him up on his offer thinking it couldn't end badly. Oh no, turns out he was just putting in some serious time and logging the man hours for what he was sure was going to be an easy score.

We decided to hit up another bar and he asked for my number. I gave it to him, whatever. Then he asked if I wanted to maybe meet up later. I told him I would have to see if the girls wanted to journey to another bar or if we would soon be calling it a night. Then he said, "No, just me and you. I can give you directions to my place and you can come over when you're finished with your friends." At this point Kiki starts laughing because she knows what's about to happen and she is always amused by my bar antics.

I snatched my phone number out of his hand and said "you're not getting laid tonight, at least not by me." and I started to walk off. He yelled after me "You're probably a lousy lay anyway. Thanks for saving me the trouble of having to embarrass you." Can you point out where this douche made a terrible error in judgement?

I immediately turned around, threw the nearest drink in his crotch and said "The only person here who should be embarrassed is the dude that came in his pants just THINKING about having sex with me. Try a new pick up strategy dude, you're a little weak. That shit only works on underage girls and bitches who are so drunk they're puking in the parking lot." What a fucker!

Dan didn't come out this weekend. He kind of almost stood me up. I was literally in the car on the way to the airport to pick him up when he called me to say "something came up" and he wasn't on the flight. Uh...ok. I really don't care that he didn't come out to see me. I do care that I wasted 20 minutes of my life driving to the airport right after I got off work. Seriously, he couldn't call, I don't know, a few HOURS earlier to let a sista know he isn't coming. Unless he's Superman and some kid was stuck in a well I'm pissed.

Monday, September 15, 2008

We're not swapping Hello Kitty BFF bracelets

Last night one of my newer friends called me crying to the point where it sounded like she was starring in some gang bang porno and had at least 3 dicks in her mouth. Couldn't understand a damn word she said. And I really don't enjoy the noise of someone sobbing uncontrollably, especially a grown ass woman. So I immediately thought someone had died. Trying to get any information out of her that made the least bit of sense was like trying to decipher Lassie's barks and grumbles; "What's that girl? Little Timmy's in trouble?"

Finally I just had to ask "Lisa, did someone die?". "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" she squealed.

Between her weeping and the occasional sound of her sucking snot back up into her nose she managed to ask if she could just come over. "I need a friend to talk to" she explained to me.

Um.....yeah......I am not the friend to come to if you are having problems with your boyfriend, or you think your haircut makes you look fat, or if you just need a shoulder to cry on and someone to smile, nod and agree with you while you whine on and on about how bad you have it. I'm the friend you should probably avoid at all costs when you're feeling bad about yourself because I won't tell you what you want to hear. In fact, I might make you want to kill yourself. But I let her come over anyway.

I'm not a comforting person. If you tell me you feel like a loser because you just got fired and your boyfriend is cheating on you, I'm probably going to agree. When all you want is someone to tell you how amazing you are and how everything will turn around, call someone else. Because not only will I harp on how hard it is to find a job in this city and how expensive rent is, but I'll probably mention that if you have to move back in with your parents, that boyfriend that is most likely banging strange pussy on the side will absolutely leave you for good. I state the truth and point out the obvious. I don't do a happy dance and sprinkle fairy dust on your problems.

Optimism is fine, but if you come to me saying you want advice, I'm going to give it to you Steph style and I promise you'll wish you'd called your fat friend you've been avoiding for months.

So while Lisa thought she was coming over for some generic "everything will be ok" bullshit she got a hard dose of reality and didn't like it all too well. I shocked her into straight up silence. I'll be surprised if she's still alive today.

I truly am incapable of sugar coating. If you want the truth and more, I'll gladly let you use up all my toilet paper to wipe your nose and tell you all the truth you can handle.

I don't believe in the pat on the back and the nod of reassurance. Because sometimes everything isn't going to be alright. Sometimes life won't work itself out. Sometimes you're not "better off". Sometimes you really fucked yourself over this time and you're going to have to bust your ass and stop wasting time crying to fix it.

Dan is coming out this weekend. See, this arrangement is perfect because I can allow myself to get a little giddy with excitement knowing he'll be here. I'm not dreading his mere presence in this city. I have something to look forward to and when we're done and he packs his bag and goes back home I'll also be excited to have my life back.

Sunday, September 14, 2008


I don't know a lot about politics and am that typical young punk kid who doesn't really have an interest in politics either. According to a crabby old bitch I work with, I am the reason this country is on the decline. She likes to remind me on a weekly basis how much my generation sucks and how we're all a bunch of slackers.

I have no excuse for my lack of political interest or knowledge. It just doesn't appeal to me. I think I started really getting turned off by the process when those stupid political commercials became such a huge part of the campaign process. They throw a bunch of useless facts at us in a quick, flashy way. Honestly, they could make up any statistic, put it in a commercial with some doom and gloom music behind it and make it sound true. The only way to figure out if said stats are accurate is to actually do some research and let's face it, we're America. We're lazy. And they know it. Those ads are patronizing and continue to get worse. At some point we're going to turn on the tv and hear about how one presidential candidate slaps hookers, kicks puppies into mud puddles, rapes babies and then dick slaps their foreheads AND they don't believe in offshore drilling!!!!!

Having said all that, I think John McCain is really old and he creeps me out. He looks like he'd be someone's questionable neighbor who stares out his window a little too long watching kids play in the streets. And I really think he picked that woman as his vice prez candidate because she has a vagina and he wants to get the vagina vote. I don't like that. Pick someone because they're capable, not because they pee sitting down. Sadly, there are a lot of pissed off, stupid women in this country who will vote that way simply because they want to be a part of female history. Palin doesn't have to say anything at this point. All she has to do is show up to rallies, prove she has tits and call it a day. The she-sheep of this country will do the rest.

I probably won't vote. Not because I'm too lazy to wake up early and go to the polls before work (which of course I am), but because haven't taken an interest in this election and am not one of those people that just shows up and votes for whoever they think might fuck shit up the least. I would rather people not vote than vote out of ignorance.

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

No one should be up this early unless they're getting laid...and I'm not

It is obnoxiously early. I feel like I'm on meth. I really should not be awake this early in the god damn morning. I feel a great amount of pity for whatever poor asshole so much as looks at me the wrong way today because a sleepy Steph is a grumpy Steph and a grumpy Steph might kill people.

I'm annoyed by Lindsay Lohan and I wouldn't feel bad, or even be surprised, if she ended up coked up and dead with her head in the toilet in the bathroom of some dirty, trendy L.A club. Why is she allowed to live? Who really cares if she's licking the carpet of the bull dyke d.j that I'm still not entirely convinced is even a real woman? She drives me utterly insane and having to hear the constant blathering from her Long Island trash mother and her jailbird dad is making me homicidal.

What I can't stand about any celebrity is when they refuse to confirm whether or not they're dating someone. I don't particularly care who's banging who, but it seems so unproductive to make a big deal out of denying it. Sure, everyone has a right to privacy but don't you kind of give up a good portion of that when you CHOOSE to be in the entertainment industry? It's not like anyone gets into acting thinking it's a lowkey profession. No one is oblivious to the prying eyes of the press and drama-hungry super fans who want to know everything from who their favorite celeb is deep throating these days to what kind of toilet paper they use to wipe their ass. And I think they garnish way more attention by denying who they're dating than they would if they just said "yeah, I'm having hot monkey sex with him". No one can stalk you and try to get your secrets out if you've already told them all.

Wow, just spent a lot of time ranting about celebrity life. Do you see what being up this early has done to me?

Last night I went to Target to mindlessly walk around and spend too much money on a bunch of shit I didn't need because that's what Target does to everyone. You go in for tampons and shampoo and come out with camping equipment, a dozen eggs, a training bra and 16 packs of gum. There I was reacquainted with a huge pet peeve of mine; fat ass people using the god damn electric scooter cart.

Just because you're a lard ass and can't put down that 18th cupcake doesn't mean you get to shovel your enormous ass into an electric cart and roll around a store like you own the fucking place. You're not handicapped, you're just huge. And the walk around the store might actually do you a little good.

These people are always assholes too and never know how to properly work the damn thing. The take up the entire aisle and give you attitude when you try to squeeze past them. They'll back up without bothering to see if they are about to run over a small child and if they do happen to hit something or someone it's obviously not their fault. I mean, they're fat. We should feel sorry for them because they have no self control or willpower.

I really hate fat people.

Sunday, September 7, 2008

The artist formerly known as stephdoesblogger

Did you think I had left you for good? Were you afraid I had been killed in some tragic kinky sex accident? Death by sex swing? Whipped to death by an overzealous gimp perhaps?

Truth is, I had every intention of keeping up with my blog once again. And then...I just got bored. I thought my boredom would be temporary. But after a few weeks of not blogging I just didn't have the urge to come back and eventually forgot my passwords and then REALLY didn't want to make the effort.

So here we are, almost 2 years later and I'm back like an outbreak of herpes. You can go months, years without one of those nasty sex bumps. You think you're safe. And then BAM! You get a wicked case right before your big date with Susie Bigtits. And let's face it, no one likes a bumpy peepee.

So what have I been doing with myself for the last year and a half? much. Too much for me to properly recap. There has been a lot of drama, a new direction in my med school education, a bitch beatdown with my brother's now EX wife, new friends, a new home, some traveling, and of course a healthy dose of slapping hips with guys who wish they could be Mr. Steph.

My latest hunk of man-meat is Dan and we have the best relationship...the long distance kind. And this time I'm smarter about it. Obviously messing around with someone who is only a few short hours away didn't cut it so now I have gone out of state. So much better this way.

I met him while doing some traveling with the girls about 4 months ago. We met. We got along. He didn't annoy the shit out of me. We made out and ended up spending about my last few days in his city hanging out. And as a sure sign of personal growth I didn't even sleep with him until I saw him again a few weeks later. That's right kids, mama's all grown up.

So now we see eachother about once a month. We spend a few days together. We have a good time and then we get to hop on a plane and go back to real life without worrying about all of the girlfriend/boyfriend bullshit.

I did a bit of a friend house cleaning, telling off and kicking to the curb some friends I had forever. I'm the only one allowed to have an insane amout of drama in my life and some people were giving me a run for my money in that department. The true friends are still around. Some new ones have come to play and are proving to be even more fun than the oldies.

I've changed careers, bought a new house and am about to have a roommate which doesn't exactly tickle my clit, but I'm trying to be nice for a change and help someone out. I think I'm getting soft in my old age.

There is no cure for herpes

Nearly 2 years later....I'm BACK BITCHES!

Explanations and catch-up to come soon.