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Archive for October, 2007

abs_bucharest_traffic_police.jpgI went back to NY last week and I gotta say that after eight months of rubbing my clit into oblivion trying to convince my vagine that it was as good as my boyfriend’s peen, getting the real deal was fucking awesome. I loved it. Brilliant. Best dicking in a long time (obvs). Wow, that was really personal and little ick. Sorry for the TMI. I’ll blame jetlag for my lack self censorship when I give a shit, or I find out my mother has read this post.

Anyway, I had a lovely time with him. We fought like crazy, but I think that was more out of relief of seeing each other, desire for everything to be just like it was, desire, and being terrified of impending separation again. In the last eight months we’ve broken up more times than I can come in one day (and that’s a lot, I experimented when I moved to HK and had no friends) although the break-ups usually lasted about an hour on average, 12 hours at the most. We’ve had weeks of nonchalance and distance, others where we were pathologically obsessed with detailing our every movement on blackberry messenger. He sent me pictures of his shit. No joke. It’s fucking gross. I sent him pictures of, well, nevermind. We tried Skype and iChat video and it sucked. I was always home and naked when he was at work and for him working with a boner while trying to cover up my boobs every time someone walked past his computer wasn’t particularly conducive to his productivity. I could have been nice and put clothes on but then I wouldn’t be me and I wouldn’t have giggled nearly as much. (more…)

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As much as I would love to, I can’t kick all the dimwitted fuckfaces off the edge of the flat earth. Neither can I wrap up all the women in the world in a haze of alcohol and cigarette smoke and keep them safe (and buzzed). Or I could use a blanket, but that’s so cliché. So to all my counterparts in the vaginal kingdom (is that politically correct? should I be calling it queendom? that sounds fucking retarded though), I salute you with my very large vodka bottle and pack o’smokes. It isn’t easy committing the heinous crime of being born female and being reminded constantly of this one great big fat freakin mistake we made in smashing our feeble x chromosome zygotes into jackpot first. Some of this guilt could be assuaged if we didn’t have so much damn fun with our oestrogen. But I’m not feeling particularly repentant, and I don’t see it happening any time soon. Please, for those of you out there who insist on judging me for my happy woman face, don’t be expecting any apologies from my mammaries any time soon – for one very simple reason: IT’S NOT MY FAULT. (more…)

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