BLOG.HOLYHELLS.COM

Checking in!

2009-09-22T00:20:00Z

Hey guys!

Just checking in after a 60 day hiatus... just wanted to let you all know, all the magic is happening over at the new blog..

http://nicoleramer.blogspot.com/

come on over.. check it out.. leave comments!

Still Alive!

2009-07-27T00:12:00Z

Yes, I'm still alive. Special thanks to everyone who emailed me, and checked up on me. I love all my readers with a firey passion, from the lurkers to the ones who wish to remain anonymous. I heart you all!!

I've been pretty busy, work.. then typically go straight to Mrs. Military's house for some jogging. (My new job has me snacking all the time, and i swear I can feel my ass getting fatter!) By the time i get home, I'm usually so tired, i shower and fall into bed. I can't even count the times in the past couple of weeks that I was in bed before 9 p.m. Sue me.. I'm getting old.

Other than that, I've been thinking a lot about my writing, and if I want my rants to be taken seriously. It's always been my dream to be a published author, so I had to sit down and figure out if I had the ovaries to come out of the closet. As many of you have noticed from my tweets, I have opened a new blog, under my real name. My ovaries are some bold bitches!

I have linked a couple of people who have asked for the new site.. if you would like it, feel free to drop me an email, but all i ask is to please go easy on me. This is my real name, and I also have a picture posted.

So, I'm just giving this project a couple of months, to see how it evolves. So I would appreciate all the support I can get! Again, I love you bitches!

yeah.... uhm... sorry about that..

2009-06-29T11:41:00Z

So, this is my formal apology for the post that I wrote last night...How rude! How vague! How fucked up! Sorry, but it's really hard to write when you can't see thru the tears. It's hard to make sense of the emotions raining hell all over your body, when they are vast, and expanding in your esophagus to the point of oxygen deprived sobs.

I do feel a little silly about last night... but my puffy eyes and this gaping hole in my stomach are remnants of the very real, very raw, breakdown I experienced last night.

Normally, when the tears finally stop, I can see more clearly... but not today. It was a struggle to get out of bed... hells i feel like I'm fighting for my next breath...

You're probably wondering what the hell is wrong with me... trust me, if I knew, you'd be the first to know.. Everything in my life is fine right now. I have nothing to be moping over.... yet, I hurt. So emotionally, its physical. Pain sitting in my chest.. and ache that ebbs thru my muscles, down to the bone marrow. Is bone marrow supposed to hurt? Well, mine does.

Now, I have to go paint a pretty smile on my face, and pretend like this girl has her shit together, so nobody can see all the cracks that even super glue won't hold together.

Once again, I'm the only thing standing in my way..

2009-06-29T05:22:00Z

I went out tonight with a specific goal. Orgasms.. lots of them. Well, I didn't even go out, just to see a "friend". There's a long history there, that I don't even feel like writing about. Well, that's not even entirely true either. I did try to write about it... for the past hour and a half. No words came.

Needless to say, I couldn't do it... do anything.. the only thing I got was a face full of self realization.

So anyways.. I'm peacing out for a while... don't know when, or if I'll be back. Seems Ryleigh Thorne is dead and gone.. and the only thing left standing is this plain, rather boring girl named Nicole.

You can't have classy without assy.

2009-06-28T15:23:00Z

Obviously I was still drunk yesterday morning, when the stellar idea of posting a picture of my chest sounded like a excellent way to make up for me running into the cripple...errr handicapped individual. And for the record, I wasn't laughing at him. I was laughing at myself, because only I, Ryleigh Thorne, could manage to walk right into dysfunctional legs strapped into a wheel chair. Then, be laughing so hard at myself that it completely takes the sentiment out of my apology. Yep, I'm straight up assy.

Mr. Not-so-anonymous-commenter-A is correct in saying, I woke up yesterday and my little round, three legged, cheap ass piece of shit table that sits next to my bed was destroyed. Since alcohol decided to kick some holes in my memory, I can only guess that I was tossing and turning in my sleep, and managed to knock it over. And yes, I did wake up naked. What can I say?! Happy Naked Fun Time, is still fun even when I'm by myself.

While I've never dressed like a skank, or been employed as a prostitute, classy is probably something I'll never be. I cuss worse than a sailor, and you never really know what I'm going to do next.... hells, I never know what I'm going to do next. As I sit right now, I have on my ghetto orange shorts and a t-shirt that's three sizes to big for me, which came into my possession three years ago when I got smacked up side the head with it. Damn t-shirt launcher.. did you have to pick my head.. in the middle of a convention? My face is dirty with last nights make-up, and the strong oder of stale beer, and bar is seeping from my pores. Sounds sexy right? But come tomorrow, I'll be dressed to the nines, in freshly pressed clothing, ready to face another day of corporate America. Will I be classy? No, not at all. Tomorrow will be just another day in my very real game of pretend.

This is what friends are for

2009-06-27T17:04:00Z

Friends (BabyCakes) shouldn't let extremely drunk friends (me) get into cars (white(pimp as shit) Mercedes SUV) with two (not just one... two!!) men (strangers). No, I didn't get laid (can't rape the willing!) blah blah blah.. (don't think there is anything else important to add here.)

Since I completely ran into a handicapped man's dysfunctional legs (then laughed about it), here's a picture. (Yes, these are mine (as in, attached to my body)

Photo by BabyCakes... taken on her phone... don't ask for a better one

Why oh why does this shit happen to me??: Ex-Encounters

2009-06-24T00:33:00Z

So, after my awesome day at work today, (in which I impressed both of my supervisors. I know this because they pulled me into a meeting at the end of the day to tell me exactly how awesome I truly am) I journeyed to the gym. Since Rukie has been home for the past month, I've been really slacking. While I haven't gained any weight, I'm starting to feel flabby. The only time I should jiggle this much, is when being pounded.... from behind. (I would say "properly pounded", but you really can't go wrong with doggy style.. I can rock my hips into the guy as hard as I need it.. the only encouragement I usually offer is to say, "PULL MY HAIR!!" tmi? perhaps.. but then again, you wouldn't be reading this blog if you didn't want some TMI.) (For all you acronym illiterates. TMI= too much information)

In St. Louis, its fucking hot. Like "heat advisory" hot. Like when you walk outside, you are slammed with a wall of heat so heavy, you have to learn how to breath again. Like sweat forms instantly under your boobs and you get an immediate case of swamp ass vagina. Like I did multiple pip-sniff checks today to check my freshness level. (okay, I'll admit to one crotch sniff) Oh and lets not forget to mention the 100% humidity. So, keeping that in mind, guess what running on a treadmill in the gym felt like? hhhhhoooooottttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt.

When I got to the gym, I tried to remove most of my make-up.. but there is that last lingering bit that refuses to come off without a proper exfoliation. Like that last little bit of mascara that gives you raccoon eye. Sleep deprived.. over stressed dark circles. Yep, I had that. You're probably asking how all of this is relevant to my story. When I packed my after-gym-clothes this morning, I had no intentions of going anywhere but home. So I packed a wife beater, and an orange pair of shorts, that should only be worn to one place. Bed. (Kinda funny side note here... Mrs. Military was sporting these same shorts the other day.. and I was like "Omg, I have those same shorts!" and she was all like,"Omg!" and we were all like "O-m-f'ing-g.")

and I'm totally getting off topic again.. let's see.. I was at the gym.. dripping in sweat... put on my white trash clothing... runny make-up... Oh! Okay.. so on the way home I discovered that I needed this super emergency item from the store. An item that I'm not going to divulge, just know that it's important. The only store between where I was at.. and my home was a gas station, and I wasn't about to drive across town to pick up my special item. Nor was I going to drive home to change my clothing for an errand that was going to take all of 10 seconds to complete. (Sue me, I'm lazy)

So, blah blah blah, I get in the gas station, get my shit, turn to leave and run smack fucking dab into my ex. Not my ex husband. This was my first love. The guy that I'll never really be over, and still stops my heart every time i see him. Yep, that's the one. There I stand looking like I'm the next star in an episode of Cops with my highly important, unrevealable purchase in hand.

The world did that whole stopping thing.. like where you're stuck in that moment of time... yep a never ending moment of sheer humiliation. Then, I actually dropped my item. He bent to pick it up. If i thought that moment before was bad, this one was even worse. I was still standing there with my mouth gaping open, and my and still in the position where I dropped my thingy. I closed my mouth before drool started seeping down my chin... then i tried to talk.. I was going to explain my item and my appearance.. but realized I didn't owe him any explanation, so I snapped my mouth closed again. I tried to say hello, but that didn't work either. I just stood there opening and closing my mouth like a little pac-man. How big of an idiot am I?!?!? Oh a fucking huge one!! Especially when the only speech I managed to speak was "I gotta go," and ran out of there with my tail tucked between my legs.

Why oh why does this shit happen to me? Why couldn't I have ran into him hours earlier when I had on my pressed linen pants, fitted button down shirt, and shoes that are soo cute I don't care they kill my feet? Thank you fate... thank you for reminding me I'm your bitch.

(Special thanks to The Stylist for introduction to the theory of Swamp Ass Vagina.)

Someone else pick the topic!

2009-06-23T10:52:00Z

Turns out, i kinda like it when someone else gives me something to write about.. it gives me a sense of direction.. and purpose! ha..

So, if there is something that you feel i've missed, or something that I said I was going to write about, but never did, please feel free to point me in that direction!

Now I'm off to go piddle around the house.. or maybe get an orgasm in before work..

Per request from BabyCakes... The Vending Machine Story.

2009-06-21T00:11:00Z

It's Wednesday afternoon, and my yawns are right on top of each other. What the hell is wrong with me? I'm at my new job that I'm totally stoked about, I should shooting around the room with fireworks emitting from my ass. And it wasn't that I was tired, I just couldn't stop yawning.

I told the girl I was training with I was going to run for a chocolaty treat. Maybe escaping the cube will work out whatever is screwing with my biochemistry. I'm passing thru all the god forsaken security to get to the vending machine. (My building being something like Fort Knox.) My brain is on overdrive trying to figure out what's wrong with me. Yawning that much, there must be something wrong. I'm not tired. I'm not bored. God, what if it's my ADD? What if my brain is looking for distraction.. hence me walking to get chocolate. Bah! I'm not going to let this happen! My ADD was a major problem for me in my last job.. I'm determined this won't happen again here... as I drop quarters in the machine.

I spot the M&M's ... oh yeah baby.. come to momma. I punch D5, and watch as the little coil dispenses my chocolate savior....the coil stops spinning, and my M&M's are left hanging in limbo. Are you fucking serious?!?! I pat my pockets for more change.. nothing.. and I'm sure the hell not walking back thru three security check points to get more.. and this damn machine is not going to stand in my way of chocolate!

Grabbing the top the the machine, I use all my newly defined muscles (going to the gym is really paying off) to shake the machine. Artfully crafted strings of profanities slipping from my lips. *Shake*.. *bang*..motherfucker...

"Ma'am did you know that breaking and entering is illegal in all 50 states?"

I glance over my shoulder, and there stands a security guard looking at my like I should be locked away in a mental prison... (perhaps he's not wrong.)

"It took my money." I said, still rattling the machine.

"That's what they are supposed to do." says the guard.

Ohhh buddy ol' pal.. aren't you just a wise ass, right now is NOT the time to fuck with me. "Yeah, but it didn't give me.. " grunting and resorting to hip checking the machine..."my M&M's."

"Ma'am I'm gonna have to ask you stop assaulting the machine."

I look at him unbelievably, "Seriously?!? All I want are my M&freakingM's.. not to mention.. The M&freakingM's that I PAID FOR!"

He holds his hands out in front of him, in what I'm assuming is a soothing gesture, the one that says calm-the-fuck-down. "Whoa calm down ma'am. Let's not escalate the violence of this incident."

I decide i was never one for "authority" and go back to my "violent" act against the machine. Then I hear the distinctive sound of two way radio static. "I've got a hostile employee in the south corridor.. requesting back up."

Let's recap. I'm standing in a hallway. A hallway at my brand new, high security job. I'm pissed right the fuck off because my M&M's are stuck. Oh, and lets not forget the security guard who just "requested back up" because I'm "hostile".

Rage is just bubbling in my system. Doesn't this crack pot know that you should never.. never ever.. in any circumstance stand between a woman and her chocolate? At this point, I'm thinking I have one of two options. 1. I take this guy out. He's a balding, middle aged, rent-a-cop. Oh yeah, I could definitely beat him unconscious, then use his body as a battering ram to free my M&M's. 2. I could egg him.

Seeing as I didn't have any eggs readily available and my quest for chocolate was too significant, option 1 was my only option. He was a little guy, small bones, beer belly, and a nightstick. I didn't care much about his weapon, I was looking to incapacitate him. Oh yeah, you lil pip squeak, you done fucked with me at the wrong time. I started setting my body up to deliver a round house kick that Chuck Norris would be proud of when a laughter floats from behind me.

And this is were my talent as a writer goes completely down the drain. I would love to spin you some action packed story about how I ninja'ed him into submission, and dragged his body into a dark closet, then I had to mission impossible it back to my cube... but my story is not that entertaining...

Turns out the guards saw me having a hissy all over the candy machine.. and decided to have a little fun. While I'm dying to see the recorded security footage, I was pissed right the fuck off at the time..

Never-ever come between me chocolate, and orgasms.

Working hard or hardly working?

2009-06-19T01:57:00Z

Monday morning. 8:30. I'm sitting in my car trying to disarm the ticking time bomb in my stomach. Resting my forehead on the steering wheel, I let out a long sigh. You can do this Ryleigh. First days are always the roughest. Take slow breaths, and think soothing thoughts. It's only an office full of people you've never met. This is where you shine. Meeting new people with graceful ease is your strong point. Slow breaths, and soothing thoughts.

I knock back the rest of my green tea in one swallow, and start my journey to the front door. Head up, check. Shoulders back, check. Playful, all knowing smile, check. Confidence or some fake semblance of, check. Long, powerful, deliberate stride, check. Clickity-clack of pretentious bitch boots, check.

I made it to meet The Boss and all my new co-workers without any serious mishaps, like tripping over shit, not keeping my potty mouth in check, or just making an ass out of myself in general.

8 hours, 529 yawns and 5 attention grabbing-shiny-things later, it was time to go home. I survived the first day, what the hell was I so nervous about?

Tuesday. 7:30. Equipped with one gifuckingnormous mug of green tea. I will not, NOT be tired today! *yawn*

Wednesday.*yawn* Purple Victoria Secret pant worn. Purple pants! Purple pants! Purple Pants! I totally rocked the purple pants.
New pet peeves discovered: *yawn*
1. I do NOT appreciate a warm toilet seat.
2. When someone says "It's very case sensitive." Seriously? How is something very case sensitive? That's like saying, "Water is very wet."
purplepantspurplepantspurplepantspurplepants!!!!!

Oh and... margaritas weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

Thursday. 5:30 a.m. The discovery that my little trendy oriental market sold me caffeine free green tea. Choked down three cups of extremely sweet coffee, and.... zooooooooooooooooooooom.
Three things that my computer says to make me cringe:
1. User name/password incorrect (that caps lock key is a sneaky little booger)
2. This web page cannot be displayed
3. ..... and something else equally as aggravating.

Friday. Eavesdropped on my supervisors phone conversation where she proceeded to rave about how "impressed" she is with me.
Figured out I do not like any sort of "chain of command." If there's a problem, I want to fix it.. not tell my supervisor, then she alerts her supervisor, who contacts the IT department, and then they contact someone else who can provide a solution. Yes, I totally have the "I'll do it myself" mentality.

Overall the week went well. I spent a good portion of time unraveling the twisted web of office dynamics. There's so much estrogen brewing in that place, I think my boobs got bigger. Everyone is extremely sweet, cheerful, and generally fun loving ladies. (There is not one man in my office) One role does seem to be missing, a role that was made for me, and a role that I know I can fill with out a shadow of a doubt... The role of the office bitch.

Updates.. gotta love them

2009-06-15T01:41:00Z

So, I know I've been horrible at posting... here are some quick updates.

Operation Get-My-Shit-Together is in full swing (the hard truth post coming soon.) I've got my list of goals, and checking them off as I complete them. My list does NOT contain anything about boys or relationships... how many times do I have to tell you people?!? It's all about me bitches!!!!!

Anyhow, I start a new job in the morning. Yay me!! Mrs. Military and I went shopping all day Saturday for a basic wardrobe that screams, "I"m professional, damnit!" and not my usual style of jeans, t-shirts, and flippy flops. After all the money we spent and grueling hours of walking around a mall... I still have nothing to wear... I know.. I'm a girl.. fucking sue me.

I've finally toned back my alcohol intake... hmmm I don't think I ever wrote that post either. Long story short... I felt i was drinking entirely to much, so I stopped.

So now I have to go iron the clothing that's going to magically jump out of my closet and sing "Wear me!"

Peace

How not to get a job.

2009-06-09T19:50:00Z

1. Excessive flirting with the interviewer
2. Throwing the interviewer down on his desk and making raunchy, porn star sex.
3. Organizing the extreme messy nature of interviewers desk
3. Saying things like... douche bag... fuckwit... and twat swatter.
4. Picking your nose
5. Flipping your booger on the floor while answering the "What's your best quality?" question.
6. Farting in interviewers office when he steps out.. when he gets back... he'll know it was you!
7. Saying, "OMG whose ugly baby is that?" to the picture on their desk.
8. Adding a little bit of personality to your interview by telling them about how you discovered a black man's penis, is in fact, black... and not pink like the bottoms of their feet and hands.
9. Backing into your interviewers car, and waving at him as you drive away.

anddddddddd.......

10. Telling your interviewer that you really don't want the job, the only reason why your there is to make the unemployment office happy.

FYI.. NO! I didn't do any of these things.. but all things i thought about while interviewing.

Finally time to pick up the pieces.

2009-06-05T06:26:00Z

I had a plan once. A plan on how my life would go. Then, I had a kid and got married. So, I made a new plan. A new plan that factored in my unplanned variables. Then, I left my husband. Once again, I made a new plan. I was bound and determined this would be the final one. I knew where i wanted to go, and I believed in myself enough to see me thru it. Then, I made a series of the ultimate bad decisions. And instead of making a new plan, I just sat down and stared and analyzed the random mosaic at my feet. Shattered glass, in a pattern with no rhyme or reason, yet each piece had its place. Each piece held yet another story. I was in this strange limbo between the past, and three months from now. My present was put on hold.

For the past months, I've been analyzing myself and trying to sort out this great conspiracy churning around me. When did I become this person? The person whose mistakes out weigh the few good qualities i have? When did my common sense fly the coop and leave me with no direction to walk in? When did my integrity become compromised? Most of all... why... why did all of this happen? or why did i allow it to happen?

Do I have an answer. No, I don't. And I realize now, I probably never will.

The time has come for me to pick up the pieces. Toss out the ones that i don't need, and make something beautiful out of the ones I want to keep. I know I'm capable of it, I've done it time and time before. Rebuild... it's what survivors do.

The truth is, I'm not this girl. A girl who just gives up, to weak to carry on. I'm a fighter and I have the courage to continue. Strong willed, and to thick headed for my own good. Nevertheless, I know who I am, I know where I want to go and I know I have the ability to get there.

Why buy synthetic, when I have the real fucking deal.. right between my legs?

2009-06-05T02:54:00Z

Seriously, you have to check this out. Vulva Original.

They fucking bottled pussy. Did some broad squirt continuously into multiple bottles? And I love how their site is all classy and sophisticated.. bitches you made a product that smells like twat!

Now, if I didn't have my very own vagina between my legs, this might entice me. Seeing as I love pussy. I love everything about pussy... the taste, the smell....mmmmmmm (it's really a wonder than I've never had a lesbian experience.)

(blood rushing to the pussy... give me a minute)

So, it smells like pussy... how the hell are we supposed to test it out? What if you get it, and it smells like the dirty side of ass? Is there a money back guarantee? Full coverage [health] insurance is a must before purchasing pussy! Who knows what your going to get!

And from the looks of this, it's European pussy. What if it smells different? God knows European cock looks a helluva lot different (uncircumcised).

Now i really want to smell it. Wonder if they will mail me a tester.

Tweet me baby.... oh yeah...

2009-06-05T02:24:00Z

Yes, I'm on Twitter... Name Ryleigh_Thorne. You should follow me.. like now

So here is a sample of some fuckerlyism from Twitter. Shit doesn't get greener than this.

IsabellaSnow- Why do so many men state how many kids they have in their Twitter bio? And why are so many women willing to have 6 or 7 kids?!?!?

Ryleigh_Thorne @isabellasnow at 6 or 7 kids, you are a new classification of mother.. called sheep herder

avidcuriosity @Ryleigh_Thorne hell, why close your fucking legs...leave'em open and lubed so you can spit'em out faster..baby rocket launcher!

Ryleigh_Thorne @avidcuriosity It's all fun and games until someone loses an eye from a projectile silver bullet! Eye protection.. be prepared

Ryleigh_Thorne @avidcuriosity.. ohhh were you talking about babies? I was thinking sex toys... imagine that

avidcuriosity @Ryleigh_Thorne um...what would happen if the projectile toy was a butt plug...

Ryleigh_Thorne @avidcuriosity butt plug... hmmmmm awkward case of pink eye?

Ryleigh_Thorne Thinking about projectile sex toys now... wonder what a suicide bomber would do if you threw a dildo at him

avidcuriosity @Ryleigh_Thorne he'd say..."i'm cumming! i'm cumming!"

Ryleigh_Thorne @avidcuriosity.. i thought he'd be saying.. "i'm blowing! I'm blowing!"

Ryleigh_Thorne Projectile sex toys a new XXXtreme sport?

avidcuriosity @Ryleigh_Thorne lmao...this conversation is in serious need of a drink or two...

Ryleigh_Thorne @avidcuriosity... a drink..coochie pop? or cum honey?

avidcuriosity @Ryleigh_Thorne a jizz spritzer...or perhaps some pussy punch

Ryleigh_Thorne Note to self.... need to create an alcoholic beverage that tastes like pussy.

avidcuriosity @Ryleigh_Thorne oh, they have something like that out already...non-alcoholic...smells like pussy...vulva...go to smellmeand.com

Tweet that bitches!

You searched for what?!? and ended up at Holy Hells?

2009-06-04T02:07:00Z

I recently found out that one of my blog lurkers has a very own blog of her own! I would like to introduce CG over at Avid Curiosity.

While stalking her blog, she had posted some of the search terms people used and they lead those people to her blog. I thought ha well that's neat-o! So, after realizing my very own statistics tool does the same for me, I'm totally stealing her idea. (Hope you don't mind, love!)

Lets see here, people searched for..

holyhells.com
Ryleigh Thorne
Jake and Colin (wonder whatever happened to Jake.. awesome dude, that Jakey.. note to self.. call Jake)

blah blah blah, this is all boring shit.

Oh wait! Here's the goods

shelf boobies (Aha! I'm not the only one who's seen a set of those babies! wonder if it was the same chick.)
why is it named the taint balls (Ohhh The Taint! God love that man. Dude where you be at?)
naked crotch flossing
nipple flicker
mom give asstube (Seriously? Someone actually typed that into google?)
dildo conquistador
dream tinkle
bore my ass shole (No, I didn't typo, this is what it says)
crotch covers
cum shooting out your nose
"first uncircumcised" pussy

Well that was fun.. now what?

I might go type all of these into Google, and see where Holy Hells ranks for these search terms.

He' not that into you. Part 2

2009-06-03T17:59:00Z

12. He's just not that into you if he's not having sex with you. When men like you, they want to touch you, always.

13. Cheating is bad. Not knowing why you cheated is even worse. If one red flag isn't enough for you, how about two? Don't date any man who doesn't know why he does things.

14. One hundred percent of guys polled said they have never accidentally slept with anyone. (But many of them wanted to know how this accident could occur, and how they can get involved in such an accident.)

15.It doesn't' count unless he says it when he's sober. An "I Love You" (or any semblance thereof) while under the influence of anything stronger than grape juice won't hold up in court or in life.

16. Everyone wants to be loved and needed, particularly by the person who just broke up with us.

Ryleigh- This is fucking true.

17. It's still called breakup sex. No one has yet to rename it oh-my-god-the-sex-was-so-good-we-got-back-together-again-and-lived-happily-ever-after sex.

18. You can't talk your way out of a break-up. It is not up for discussion. A breakup is a definitive action, not a democratic one.

19. He's gone. Poof. Vanished into thin air. Well, there's no mixed message here. He's made it clear that he's so not into you that he couldn't even bother to leave you a Post-it.

20. If you want to write him and ask him again to close the door in your face, for the .001% chance his phone died, his email crashed, and he lost all of your contact information, be my guest. Just don't say I didn't warn you.

21. There's nothing worse than having no answer, in business, friendships, and especially romantic relationships. but the bad new is, no answer is your answer. He may not have written you a good-bye note, but his silence is a deafening "see you later."

Ryleigh---

Overall, what I gathered from these little insightful passages, is that.. relationships and the person you are dating are supposed to make you feel better, not worse. Just think about how you feel when you like someone. You want to talk to them, you want to see them and you make an effort to do so. Why do people continue to chase after people who can't even return that favor?

I saw this blurb on Facebook the other day, it said "This generation sucks at relationships, we are great at getting laid." I couldn't help but think how true that was. I see so many people spending entirely to much time and energy suppressing their feelings, so they can appear "uninvolved." Hell, I'll admit it, I do the same thing! I want to know why we do this. Are we skirting responsibility? Are we scared? or are we just that selfish? We can all get laid. Very easily, in fact. But relationships... they are like nailing jell-o to a tree.

I don't even know where I was going with all this, or the motivation behind this. I see so many stupid girls, and too many douchey guys and can't help but think, so many of these situations could have been completely avoided if everyone was absolutely honest with each other. But in hearing honesty, you also need the strength to believe that honesty.

He's just not that into you. Part 1

2009-06-03T17:48:00Z

All of the following exceprts are from "He's Just Not That Into You" by Greg Behrendt and Liz Tuccillo. These are just some of my favorite tid bits from the book and really eye opening thoughts into dating. I've broken this up into two posts, it got rather long, and also I included some of my own thoughts.

1. If a dude isn't calling you when he says he will, or making sure you know that he's dating you, then you already have your answer. Stop making excuses for him; his actions are screaming the truth: He's just not that into you.

2. I know that guy you're dating. He is a man made up entirely of your excuses. And the minute you stop making excuses for him, he will completely disappear from your life.

3. A man would rather be trampled by elephants that are on fire than tell you that he's just not into you.

4. He's just not that into you if he's not asking you out. Because if he likes you, trust me, he will ask you out.

5. If a guy wants you, they will find you. If you don't think you gave him enough time to notice you, take the time it took you to notice him and divide it by half.

6. I hate to tell you, but the whole, "I don't want to ruin the friendship" excuse is racket. It works so well because it seems so wise. Sex could mess up a friendship. Unfortunately, in the entire history of mankind, that excuse has never been made by someone whole actually means it.--- I find this directly related to number 7.

7.The "maybe he wants to take things slow" excuse.-- If a guy TRULY likes you, but for personal reasons he needs to take things slow, he will let you know immediately. He won't keep you guessing, because he'll want to make sure you don't get frustrated and go away.

8. The "maybe he forgot to remember me" excuse-- Have faith. You made an impression. Leave it at that. If he likes you, he'll still remember you after the tsunami, flood, or the Red Sox loss. If he doesn't, then he's not worth your time.

9. Oh sure, they say they're busy. They say that they didn't have even one moment in their insanely busy day to pick up a phone. It was just that crazy! Bullshit. With the advent of cell phones, text messaging, and email its almost impossible to not contact you.

10. "Busy" is another word for "asshole." "Asshole" is another word for the guy you're dating.

Ryleigh-- Don't worry, I've dated this guy too, and honestly, I've also been this girl. Where I said I was "busy" but it was really a case of... i really don't like you, and felt no reason to contact you.

11. Guys tell you how they feel even if you refuse to listen or believe them. "I don't want to be in a serious relationship" truly means, "I don't want to be in a serious relationship with you" or "I'm not sure that you're the one." (sorry)

Return of The Pussy

2009-06-01T05:31:00Z

"On the fifth day of Twatmas my G-spot gave to me... five flaming homos, four ribbed condoms, three silver bullets, two nipple clamps, and an everlasting hand job," my pussy bellowed completely off key. I don't know if the song was worse, or the fact that she was wearing a blazing red devil's costume with one long ass, double ended dildo for a tail.

I haven't heard from my pussy in almost two months.. and this is how she makes her return? "Oh. My. God. You've finally lost your damn uterus."

She queefed and waved me off with a flick of a lip. "Plug your blood dispenser. It's Twatmas."

"It's been two months! Twofuckingmonths! The last time I heard anything from you, you were complaining of a clitache and telling me to stop poking you. Where the fuck have you been?! And why the hell are you wearing that?" I snapped.

"Stop interrofucking me, and proceed to fingerfucking me!!!" Puckering her lips, I guess that's the pussy's version on puppy dog eyes..

"Again, i repeat, why are you dressed like that?"

"You are worse than The Drama Queen. I'm Snatchtan... for Twatmas...get it? No? uhmm.. Puscifer? Analadon? A serpentine dickster?" Her voice progressively losing hope to the blank look on my face.

"FUCK YOU!! WHILE YOU'VE BEEN GOD-KNOWS-WHERE, I'VE BEEN HERE! RIGHT FUCKING HERE GETTTING KUNG-FUCKING-FU'ed BY THE STUPID STICK! AND!!!!! I'VE GOT A BADDDDDDDD CASE OF DID-I-REALLY-JUST-SAY-THAT!! SO YEAH! FUCK YOU!" I shouted in a murderous rage.

"Yesssssss fuckmefuckmefuckmefuckme... fuckmeeeeee!" she practically sang.

"No, no and no. You're not getting a lick from me."

"I didn't want a lick, I want a finger. Or two. ohhhh and some clit action, can't forget the clit action." She continued to beg and beg, but she didn't get anything from me. Two months? Whose pussy leaves for two months? I guess i better raise my hand, because mine sure did. Probation is a word that suits The Pussy's current punishment.

Thank god no one in the Verizon store heard my war with The Pussy. Just goes to show.. you never really know what a person is thinking about.

Can you write that out in Ebonoglyphs, because I can't understand a fucking thing you are saying.

2009-05-31T18:58:00Z

Ok, so we were out last night.

There was this guy of the dark skin pigmentation spectrum, and I couldn't understand a damn thing he was saying. It took me almost 10 minutes, and an earful of his spittle before I figured out his name. Which it was "Lord."(I shit you not, this was his actual name) And that conclusion was reached with the air drawing of letters. I wonder if American Sign Language is the same for Ebonics.

So we were chatting, well I wouldn't even call it chatting. I was blatantly lying to him. I stuttered over my fake name, and it took me forever to decided on my profession, and I was making no attempts at covering my falsifications.

At one point Babycakes got up and walked away because she was laughing so hard. I couldn't understand anything this guy was saying. I stuck with the standard, smile, nod, and occasional smart ass comment.

Where did you pick up your accent?
Oh, I thought you were foreign.
What did you say?
Say that again..
I still can't understand you.
Are you speaking English?
Are you kidding me? That's your intro for asking for a threesome?
You have no game.
Sorry, I don't date outside my hair color.

(I swear on everything fuckerly, if receive any hate mail for whatever you may think my beliefs are, I will drop kick a bitch. On second thought, go on send the hate mail! Stupidity in print is my favorite flavor.)