Monday, July 25, 2011

Future Cat Lady Meets Future Sponge Lady

I'm not really sure what to say about this. Other than... Huh.

I'm a few months away from 30, single, no children, not even a cat. I have been doing the online dating thingfor a few months now and had certain standards regarding looks, job, education, talents and interests, family, future goals. Honestly, it was mostly looks. I figured, hey I can hold my own in all those categories, why compromise when it comes to my mate? I was having a bit of a hard time and figured I had time to find and keep what I wanted, maybe even make a real connection with someone one day. No rush.

Then I saw a very scary video of an older woman that made me rethink all that. I can't post the url here, but if you look up "sponge lady" on you tube, you will see what I mean.

Please. Help me not become this woman. I am certain that she has no husband nor children. I am ready to compromise.

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Dear Future Sponge Lady,

I'm not quite sure if I should call you that, I haven't looked up the URL yet. I happen to be at work, and while I might look at boobs and DYAC all day on my computer, I'm not quite sure what to expect from that particular YouTube (tm) video and don't want to risk it. But, as you're worried about turning into her, I'm going to have to assume that you are showing patterns of "sponge lady" behavior already... at the ripe old age of 29.

Speaking of your age, WOW. You're practically at death's door there! You spent a few months online dating and haven't found anyone that meets your standards yet?! I would definitely lower mine too! You're practically asking to die alone if you take any longer finding your mate. I know one thing, I'm glad I have my cats; otherwise, I might be in danger of Sponge-Lady-ness. Phew. I mean, I'm not that far off from your age, have no children, I have no husband, and worst of all, I have STANDARDS!!! I know! What the eff am I thinking?

Since I still have a couple years before I'm going to be "a few months shy of 30," I'm not as worried about this whole "need a man now" thing that's got you in a tizzy. I can definitely relate to how you must be feeling though and, since you're not quite competition yet, I thought I'd offer a few suggestions to help you get out there, get hitched, and pop out a few babies to validate yourself as a woman!

#1: You're on the right track posting desperate advertisements on free dating forums! But, you should step it up a little bit and be more aggressive in your advertising. Try putting up fliers on telephone poles and in laundromats. Include your phone number on little tear-off taggies to allow more people to get your number. Perhaps you should also have a picture. Topless would probably get the most call-backs. Try a bold font as well, I hear the catchier the lettering, the more people notice the ad.

#2: Perhaps you should start posting on some of the international websites. I'm sure there are many men that would like to get citizenship, and as you are not attached that makes you a perfect candidate. They even pay for that sort of thing (so I hear). I mean, you don't even have pets! That opens you up to an even wider dating population as you don't have to worry about pet allergies. (My precious kitties are the only reason why I wasn't able to marry Igor and live out my happily ever after).

#3: San Francisco is a big place, with lots of people! Just get out there and start offering yourself to people. Wear something tight and/or revealing. Try very high heels as well. There are a lot of men on the street just dying for someone to pay attention to them. You said you have no standards now... go for it! You could achieve marriage and babies in no time. For instance: the other day I saw a homeless man jerking it under a cardboard box at 7:25 in the morning. Just think, if you'd been there you probably could've gotten him to marry you right then and there based solely on the option of assistance with masturbation! You are completely overlooking several avenues of snagging yourself a man!

#4: If none of my previous suggestions work for you, I might have a solution after all. I wanted to keep him for myself, but I really do feel for your plight. If you visit The man I want to marry you'll find the contact information for a man that I think is perfect for you!

Good luck out there Future Sponge Lady! Hopefully it's not too late!

Sincerely,

Future Cat Lady

P.S. Perhaps you could try Bingo night. They probably have one in the rec room of the retirement facility I'm sure someone of your age would reside in.

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Sleepy Fantasies

So I found this a few weeks ago, but I was too busy to get around to finishing my response. The whole ad had me scratching my head for a few days...

When I look at this ad, all I'm seeing is, "I get aroused by the idea of giving girls rohypnol (I mean a "massage") and groping them while they lay there drooling on themselves. I promise there won't be any sex because this is all for your enjoyment. You know, with you being asleep, or too tired to notice, or passed out drunk."

But, I feel even closet date-rapists deserve love, so I wanted to write him back.

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Hey there.

 So I am writing this looking to see if there might be a lady (or ladies) who have a sleepy fantasy? No sex... just want to play with you while you are out or in a very deep relax state, whether from you enjoying drinking too much, coming home and be really tired from a long day at work...or just enjoy to go in a relax state by a massage.

Feel free to let me know for any questions. Single ladies preferred and appreciated.


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Dear Sir,

I almost had to excuse myself to the ladies' room to clean up the puddle that was threatening to form in my shapeless, cotton briefs when I read your ad. As I have two jobs and an incredibly long commute, I tend to fantasize about sleep quite a bit. With two cats that wake me up at the crack of dawn to demand food (generally with a foot in a foot-free zone, like my mouth) added to my extended work life, I can't say I get much shut-eye. Your ad is the blessing I've been waiting for.

I am glad to know there's someone out there who can appreciate how much I fantasize about being pawed at while passed out and completely unable to prevent said pawing? (I do commend you on being sure to advise me there will be no sex, you are quite the gentleman). Even though I haven't met any other women who have spoken of this fantasy, I'm sure I can't be alone in this desire to fall asleep, or enter a "relax state" as you put it (I dig your use of tenses by the way), and have some man grope on me while I lay there completely oblivious to the whole deal. That is hawt!

In the past, the only way I was able to sate my sleep lust was to invite myself to frat parties or go to college-town bars in the hopes I would be offered a Ruffie-Colada by some obliging boy. I can't tell you how many times I've had to take a taxi home by myself as I wasn't alluring enough to bother trying to take advantage of. (I even got an e-mail a few  years ago from a 19 year old telling me he thought I was really hot but he couldn't believe how old I was). Damned college boys are so underwhelmed by women over the ripe old age of 21. I can't even lure them in with my offers of Mad Dog 20/20 or Arbor Mist anymore. But that's all behind me now that I've found you! Now I too will have the chance to wake up in an alley wondering why it feels like someone hit me in the back of the head with a frying pan and why my pants are around my ankles.

I can't wait to meet you so we can recreate my date rape... er... sleep fantasies. I can't think of anything hotter than not being able to remember what you did to me when I wake up.

Looking forward to trying to find my panties in the morning,

Future Cat Lady

P.S. Please bring nighttime eye cream. I hate waking up from a blackout with puffy eyes

Monday, July 18, 2011

I Need Me a Rich Man!

I don't know if I've ever mentioned this, but I really don't like women as a group. (Well, I don't really like anyone... but a pack of women is the pits). On an individual basis I have some A-MAZING female friends, but as an overall group... well... we kind of suck. We're mean to each other, we steal each other's boyfriends, we look for the most convenient relationship out there, and for some odd reason many women I know think their vaginae are plated in gold because if you go by their opinion all they need to do is have sex with a guy and he owes her all sorts of stuff. You know, dinner, movies, expensive jewelry, the usual. This ad demonstrates a prime example of women I try to avoid.

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I am looking for a man to enjoy a fun relationship with.. You are fit, tall, handsome 40ish professional and enjoy spoiling a very feminine girl... I want to please myself and you. You must send me a picture. I want to have a lot of fun and enjoy this, you as well... If you understand life is to be enjoyed, celebrated and are the type who actually loves to spoil in a big way... please send me something and let's go!! You can get to know me and I will send pics after your response.. I am a real person. My ideal is a high end professional man looking for a relationship where we meet each others needs ...
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I really don't want to interact with this *ahem* gold digger, so I instead have decided to take this letter, that was obviously written in G.I.R.L. (Greedy Immature Rotten Leech), and translate it into layman's terms for those who aren't proficient in G.I.R.L.
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I am looking for a man to take care of every aspect of my financial life. You are far more attractive and successful than me, but for some reason are looking for a relationship on a free dating forum. You would like to support a girl who doesn't work but instead sits at home and paints her toenails. I want to see what you look like before I bother writing back. I want to get as much as possible out of you while you're still trying to get into my pants. You are the type who would like to buy me a sports car. I will send you a picture after you already send me something as I am probably not up to your standards and I'm hoping to get something before you dump me. I am looking for a man that makes a shit-ton of money and is looking for a relationship where I give him mediocre sex and he pays my bills.
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"But, Cat Lady," you might say, "how do you know she's such a gold-digging snatch?"
Allow me to break it down for you.

I am looking for a man to enjoy a fun relationship with.. I am looking for someone who wants/is desperate for sex
You are fit, tall, handsome 40ish professional and enjoy spoiling a very feminine girl... I don't mind if you're married because it's highly unlikely that you're not if you are everything I just listed off. You would like to pay a girl for sex because your wife is somewhat frigid. I wear a lot of make-up and dye my hair constantly.
 I want to please myself and you. I will give you fellatio and get myself off because I don't think you're going to be able to.
You must send me a picture. I want to be able to reject you based soley on your male-pattern baldness
I want to have a lot of fun and enjoy this, you as well... I want to get a lot of jewelry and/or stocks out of this
If you understand life is to be enjoyed buy me stuff, celebrated buy me stuff and are the type who actually loves to spoil in a big way pay my rent... please send me something like diamonds and let's go!! You can get to know me I will tell you anything to get into your wallet and I will send pics of myself taken on my camera phone from a sideways, downward angle after your response.. I am a real person they wouldn't hire me to work the sex web cams. My ideal is a high end rich professional RICH man looking for a relationship where we meet each others needs I put out, you give me money ...

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Trying to Split the Girliness and the Funny

Good Morning! Don't get excited, I don't have my post done yet, I'm just sending a small update out at y'all.

I just realized you can follow my blog by e-mail now! Isn't that exciting? No? You're right, I'm easily amused. I'm also ridiculously girly (I believe I've mentioned my deviation from traditional Cat Lady-ness), and it was recently brought to my attention that my post about what I do on Saturday nights was a little too girly for the boys (and some of the girls...) so I've decided on a couple things.

(In list form, I do love the lists)

1: I absolutely have to talk about the girliness of my life or I'm going to drive my Awesome Roommate of Awesomeness and my Evil Bookend absolutely fucking crazy with my yakking. I'm one of those "talk about it to process" kind of people, and if I only feel like talking to a couple people they get tired of it real quick.

2: My girly-attacks don't really belong on Ramblings of a Future Cat Lady as they're quite a bit different.

Sooo....

Since I'm embarking on a few different things in the future, I'm splitting my other rambling off of this one to Future Cat Lady Confessions. I'll put a link to it up on the corner, or you can get to it through my profile. For all my old LJ buddies, it'll be more like that.

Sunday, July 10, 2011

So, What Do Cat Ladies Do When Not Reading Personal Ads Anyway?

Most of you enjoy reading my ramblings because of the strange things I find floating around on the internet, but I often get the question of, "What exactly do you do when you're not scouring dating sites for poor schmucks to make fun of?" I think that's a reasonable question to ask. I am positive that I do other things than lurk on the internet waiting for some socially awkward individual to post a plea for passion. But, the more I thought about it, the less I could come up with for my "wild personal life." But, you deserve an answer, so here you go. Last night was a prime example of my night life.
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Yesterday, I decided to do what any girl would dream of doing on a Saturday night; I organized my shoes. In order for this story to make sense, I will have to come clean and tell you all that I deviate from the standard "cat lady" in a few ways; one of the ways happens to be my deep lust for shoes. I yearn for them in a way that is almost creepy. Normally, the shoes I desire have four inch heels or higher, which causes me to be even more disinterested in dating (if that's possible) due to the fact that Cat Lady + HIGH heels = 6'2"+. And, while that is hawt on some of the women of my acquaintance, I don't really have an urge to see over the head of every single person in SF.

Anyway, back to my story. Last night I finished organizing my shoe collection in the bookcase I just put together to store them in. Yes, I had to put my shoes in a bookcase to store them. I also have a slide-under-the-bed organizer for my flats, and I'm trying to figure out what to do with my boot collection. "What's wrong with a standard shoe-rack?" you  might ask. Let me tell you...

My darling baby cat thinks he's a dog. He plays fetch, follows you around the house, and... he chews on shoes! Yes, you heard it. In less than a month he went through my entire shoe collection. He chewed the heels off the high heels, he chewed the straps off the sandals, he chewed the SHIT out of my flip flops. My gym shower sandals have tooth marks all over them and a big chunk missing out of the right one's toe. Now, most shoe lovers in my position would be forced to skin the cat for such a malicious attack, but I am particularly fond of him. And, it gave me a reason to do what pleases me most... buy more shoes. But this time I had to keep them in their boxes, and the Leaning Tower of Stilettos that was forming in my bedroom was becoming somewhat dangerous to the health of small creatures that like to climb on things. Something had to be done. *ominous, yet exciting  music*

When I embarked on my quest to put my shoes out of harms way I had only planned on putting together my cheap, press-board bookcase, and loading it up with the multitude of shoes I will never have an occasion to wear. Halfway through this project I realized that I needed to put my new sheets on my bed. I ordered a new comforter set (yay Amazon shopping) because my current set looks like the cats have been cutting out strips to slowly build a little satin ladder to use in their daring window escape. (They're still working on how to get past the screen). My new set should be here next week, but it was time to change the sheets anyway (the cat litter was building up) so I stripped my bed down and prepared to change the bedding.

I'm going to have to back up a little bit to have any of this make sense. About a month ago, the far corner of my box spring slipped off the frame and started pointing down. Last night, I decided that I might as well fix that while I had the bed stripped down. (I wanted everything to be perfect for my new comforter set. I would hate for it to feel unwelcome). I remembered being able to maneuver a queen size bed around without much difficulty back when I lived in a quad, but that was before I had the metal headboard and footboard and the whole shebang. And... my bed is HEAVY!!!

No one else was home last night so I figured it would be an excellent idea to do some heavy lifting. First, I dragged the mattress off the bed and with the help of my shoulder, my head, and a conveniently open door I managed to prop it up against the wall. (Please bear in mind that my room isn't exactly what I would term as "spacious"). Then, I pulled the futon that I keep between the mattress and the box spring off. I think whoever made that thing lined it with lead; I think the damned thing weighs more than I do. I was out of room at this point with the mattress and the pile of discarded bedding taking up all available floor space, so I folded the futon up into a cylindrical sack of rocks and pushed it onto the floor at the edge of the bed where I could stand on it. Now I could finally see my saggy box spring and the corner that had slipped off the frame.

There was absolutely no place in my room to put the box spring if I removed it from the frame so I could tighten the screws holding the frame together. So, I did what any normal person would do.... I tucked the Allen Wrench and the pair of pliers I needed to tighten the bolts into my bra and lifted the box spring up so it was supported by my shoulder and the other end on the frame. It was at this point that Mischka couldn't watch his mommy do this alone. So he climbed up the box spring to peer over the top to see what was going on. (Effing cat). Once I finally jostled the thing around enough to get him off the damned thing, I worked my way over to the corner, retrieved my tools and crouched down (box spring still supported on head and shoulder) to tighten the bolts and relocate the slats to where they needed to be to support the box spring.

As I heaved my way back to the edge of the bed where I could military press the box spring off my shoulders/head and start to lower it, Mischka decided to climb across the slats on the frame to inspect what Mom is doing. Did I mention how freaking heavy this thing is??? At this time I was holding the box spring a foot or so above the frame and trying not to drop it on my (retarded) cat. Merely hissing "shoo" at him wasn't registering that he was in the way. In fact, he seemed to be attracted to the "get the eff out of here" noises. I couldn't let go of the box spring with one of my hands to move him because it was too heavy and he was just out of reach. I then decided the best possible action was to nudge him with my foot. (Remember I'm standing on a rolled up futon at this point). So, with all the grace and dignity of a newborn colt I lifted my right leg off of the futon and stretched it to the full extent I could reach to shove the cat in the ass and hopefully inspire his moving off of the slats I wanted to drop this metric ton of box spring onto. Mischka looked indignantly at me and stepped off the slat to drop down to where just his head was poking up above the slats. (Giving me the stink eye the whole time, mind you). That was good enough for me, as I lost my balance and fell on my ass on the futon, dropping the box spring on the frame and gaining victory over the downward-sloping bed. Mischka merely stepped out from under the bed and proceeded to jump on top of the newly situated box frame to look at me face to face. Then he rolled onto his back to demand belly rubs.

That was about how the rebuilding of the bed went after I collected myself from the pile of knees and elbows my graceful futon dismount had turned me into. I would do something, Mischka would inspect and mess it up. Rinse and repeat.
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So there you have it. The exciting life of a cat lady when not playing on the internet. Try not to be too jealous. I also have the joys of scooping cat litter, brushing unappreciative cats to help them deal with the heat, and vacuuming up the drifts of cat fur that summer causes to be left around the house.

Envy me.

Saturday, July 9, 2011

Really Amazon? Really???

So, as many of you know, I am an avid Amazon shopper. I love it! It appeals to my inner cat ladyness of not wanting to go anywhere. Especially the store. I HATE the store. In fact, I ordered toothbrush heads the other day because I was that against going to Target. I'm a Prime member, I'll get them in two days... it's perfect. Forget that store-going bull shit!

In addition to loving Amazon, I also love smoothies. They help curb my deep need for sweets by convincing me I'm getting dessert and dinner at the same time. This deception helps quite a bit, as my sweet tooth is more demanding than Chrissy at 5am begging for gooshy food. The unfortunate part of this story is that smoothies require blenders. 

You see, I have a normal blender that happens to be the size of Lebron James' ego (and just as loud). In order for me to have my evening smoothy I have to unplug all other electrical appliances in the house and pass out earplugs to my roommates. The joy of a morning smoothie has never been experienced by me. I deeply desire one of those single-girl sized smoothie makers. I was flipping through one of my Fitness Magazines the other day and saw one that was a blender and a smoothie cup in one! It was amazing; Angels sang and a spotlight shone down from the heavens onto the page that displayed that beautiful piece of equipment. I had to have one.

In a manner completely unlike my normal M.O. I researched many blenders looking for the right one. I rarely read user reviews (because, really, who goes online to say something nice anyway?) but I scoured every user rating available. I needed a specific type. Every blender I looked at on Amazon was a single-serving, blender/mug in one blender. I finallly decided on one and sent away for it. I am quite excited to try it out.

This morning I had to work at the car dealer's. No biggie, I enjoy it here. So, I came to work and settled into my normal, hard-working routine of playing on the internet and sewing. After an hour or two of mindlessly perusing Facebook I decided to see what was going on with my Amazon account. So I logged on, went to my little homepage, and this was the first recommendation for me (and it stated right on the front that it was recommended to me because of my blender):

Because this is exactly what I should have based on my purchase history

Really Amazon? This makes me sad. Although, a friend of mine in Portland, OR did suggest that I just remove one of the seats and replace it with a basket and then I can have my cats ride with me. I'm considering it.

Why I Can Never Sleep With Clint Eastwood

Dear Mr. Eastwood,

May I call you Clint? I do hope so, I am such a huge fan of yours. In fact, you come up in conversation among my friends and I quite frequently. Alright, I admit it it, I bring you up; my friends laugh and agree what a stud you are. I just thought that I should write to you to discuss a few key points that were decided on during a very serious discussion over pomegranate cider at the tasting room we visited.

I'm sure you hear from women all the time about how amazing you are. I've seen many, many, MANY of your movies, and I am quite a fan. In fact, if you were pictured on the front of romance novels I would probably give up reading books with substance and taste altogether. I might even consider sex!

In order to consider all angles on the discussion that we were having I had to do extensive research on you. On GOOGLE!!! Reading your Wiki page was quite enlightening for me. You have had some exploits haven't you, you naughty man?! How many children do you have? With how many women? You give Flavor Flav a run for his money! Well, except for the fact that you're not broke, have talent, and are by far one of the most beautiful men in the history of the entertainment industry. You're 80 years old and are still damned sexy! (In my own humble opinion that is). Although, who knows what you've come in contact with since you became sexually active; you've been having sex with women since the time when Syphilis was common. I can only imagine what kind of crotch rot you could have been exposed to. (And I have a very good imagination, by the way).

The original consensus of our "Phoebe sleeping with Clint Eastwood" discussion was that it could not happen because I would never want to be responsible for the death of an icon. I mean, you are 80 years old, and I am an energetic, physically active, feisty, blonde in her mid 20's. Can you imagine the death threats and hate mail I would get for that? Not to mention the awkward discussion with the press about how I was with you during your final moments. Sure, I would probably get a book deal and an interview with Barbara Walters, but it just wouldn't be worth it. Or would it? It almost sounds like a movie; we could write a documentary and call it "The Woman Who Brought Down an Icon". *insert dark, ominous tones here*

After quite a bit of thought into the matter (several months in fact) I have finally come to a conclusion on why I cannot ever join you between the sheets. Unless it's to spoon. If it's to spoon I will climb right in there, but I get to be little spoon! I refuse to be your human backpack!

Anyway, back to the subject at hand, I have come up with five solid reasons on why we can't have sex...

Top 5 Reasons I Can Never Sleep With Clint Eastwood:
  • If I gave you a heart attack I would never be able to forgive myself. You mean that much to me.
  • I'm afraid you would give me some sort of disease that doctors don't even remember anymore and I would be stuck with some sort of weird growth on my girlie-bits.
  • You are obviously incredibly fertile, and the idea of bearing your illigitimate offspring is somewhat terrifying to me. Although, the child support might be quite lucrative.
  • After the list of women you've been with, I'm afraid I have a little bit of stage-fright and I'm afraid of being somewhat inadequate in the bedroom department.
  • Last, but not least, I would have to have sex in order to have sex with you. I hate to say this because I love you, but I'm a cat lady! We don't have sex!

So, Clint, I am going to have to tell you that we will just never engage in sexual activity. I hope we can still be friends.

All my love,

The Future Cat Lady

P.S. We really can still spoon if you want to!

Friday, July 8, 2011

Just a Quickie

And people wonder why I would rather allow spiderwebs to form in my sexy underwear drawer than deal with most carriers of an XY chromosome...

This was in the "I saw you" section:
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You and that ass of yours are my fantasy. I know if I ever had a shot with you I would pound that tender pussy so good you would be wet for days. But no you had to go and get a boyfriend. I hope he gives It to you good. Slut.
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Seriously Dude?? That's your romantic letter?

"I know I don't have a shot with you, so I'm going to write about fucking you (whether you want it or not, mind you) and then call you a slut. Did it work? Will you have sex with me now? Please oh please oh please???" 

I'll bet her "tender pussy" is all quivery with anticipation after that kind of pick up line. I know mine would be. There is nothing that gets my junk aflutter like some douchebag I've never met telling me that he wants to pound my box so "good" that I would be wet for days. I can't imagine how she could've gone and got herself a boyfriend instead of letting you at it. I would love to be wet for days! All women love to be moist down under for extended periods of time. That's why we're all so damned excited about our rags. Well, that and the back-breaking cramps and insane mood fluxes. Who wouldn't want that?!

I would be careful about promising to make a woman damp for a long period of time though. There are a few things that generally cause that to happen, and none of them are good.
For instance, what you stated could be interpretted as:
"I'll give you a nasty case of Chlamydia that'll cause you to have an unusual discharge for several days until you have it checked out by your lady doctor and then given 1g of azithromycin to clear it up." That is HAWT. I, personally, would have merely said that thinking about it would make a girl wet for days. But whatever, maybe that's what you were going for.

I do like how you were the better man by wishing her a happy and healthy sex life with her current boyfriend. That was very big of you. It totally negated the whole "slut" thing that happened right afterwards. You charmer.

If you ever get tired of stalking her and her ass you should give me a call. I am dying to be wet for days. As I mentioned before in http://phoame.blogspot.com/2010/12/oh-hes-wild-one.html I am a huge fan of "water play." Maybe we could get together and talk about how you could keep me wet for days sometime. I know a great water park near here.

Anyway, good luck out there!

Your friend,

The Future Cat Lady

P.S. Condoms are your friend

Friday, July 1, 2011

Fantasy vs Reality Part one

Well howdy y'all!

When I first started writing these things I had a much bigger reading population. It was on Livejournal with all my girlfriends connected together and giggling together. I got tired of all the ads that they started putting up and switched over here so people wouldn't have to watch a 60 second commercial on a crappy shampoo that I wouldn't use on a dog, let alone my hair. Right before I switched over, I started writing about my life seen through the eyes of a romance novel. But I noticed a problem when I realized that a large chunk of people that think I am funny are men. Men don't think like romance novels have them think. Men think like porn. But most porn is an odd fantasy that couldn't possibly be recreated.

Growing up, I hung out with almost all guys (big surprise there, huh?). As a girl with 95% of my friend population being older guys I was exposed to things that most girls wouldn't watch if you paid them. Like B-rated porn. I don't know what A-rated porn would be, but this definitely wasn't it. Porn is really the only place where men looking like Ron Jeremy can have sex with women that look like Jenna Jameson. He looks like a fatter version of Jon Lovitz in the cartoon The Critic, who would fuck that???

Anyway, there's been this one episode that has stuck in my mind for the last 10 years or so since I saw it, and it always confounds me when I think about it. I decided I would use that for my first edition of.... *drum roll*

FANTASY VS REALITY!!!

Okay, I tried to make it exciting, I think I failed. Just pretend to be excited and we'll get through this just fine.


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Fantasy: (I'm sure some of you might have actually seen this particular film)

Gorgeous blonde comes running out the door and accidentally slams the doorknob into the junk of an innocent man walking by. He yelps in pain and massages his beloved jewels in his hand as he stands in front of her. Gorgeous blonde in short dress starts apologizing profusely and begging for forgiveness. In the most seductive voice known to man, she asks him how she can make it up to him. The Adonis-like man unbuttons pants and she proceeds to enthusiastically give him a blow-job before the camera pans out and he drags her into the empty classroom to ravage her over a desk. At this point the two of them engage in 45 minutes of the most acrobatic sex known to man. The man flips her through ten different positions as she screams in the ecstasy of a non-stop orgasm from the moment of penetration on. She, of course, has no body hair whatsoever and has the most miraculous breasts that stay round and point up no matter what angle she gets put in. The man is in possession of a 14" penis that stays rock-hard the entire 45 minutes of their wild tryst. The whole scene ends as he covers her face with semen while she moans in pleasure and rubs it in her hair and  down her chest while whimpering how hot he is.

Reality: (I am fairly certain that this is how the whole situation would have actually panned out)

Bleached-blonde chick with brown roots comes running out of classroom and smashes the doorknob into some guy's groin as he's walking by. The guy gasps as all the air exits his lungs and falls to the ground clutching his scrotum and squealing in pain. The girl apologizes profusely and attempts to help him, only making it worse with her efforts. When the man is finally able to speak in a voice not resembling that of a 12 year old boy, he asks her to kiss it better. The girl, who is obviously not right in the head, acquiesces and settles onto her knees, preparing to perform fellatio on him.  After she wrestles his stained tighty-whities out of the way and pushes back the rats nest of hair he's been cultivating for the last 14 years, she commences her efforts to convince his battered penis to show some semblance of the mighty soldier he desperately wants her to think of it as. Three or four minutes later they stumble into the empty classroom where they both awkwardly start to pull their clothes off. Her hair gets stuck to the zipper of her dress and she flails around trying to pull it over her head. He has his pants half down when he realizes his shoes are still on and he hops around on one foot trying to pull his shoe off. When they're finally in some semblance of undress (he is, of course, still wearing his tube socks) they engage in approximately 12 minutes of the most awkward and comical sex imaginable. The man has to pause at least four times to give his little guy a pep-talk about why it would be a great idea to stay hard for just a few more minutes. Then the guy grunts as he finishes on her chest and she screams in rage that he got it in her hair. That shriek was the first noise she'd made the entire time. They then both awkwardly get dressed while avoiding eye-contact and scurry out of the room.

Now, I'm sure most of you know I'm not really the type to sit around watching porn. There's not much I can get out of it (other than a good laugh). I am definitely more partial to girl porn, aka Romance Novels. When I was going to school they were the only books I could process other than my textbooks due to the fact that there was no substance whatsoever and they all follow the same basic model:

#1: Strong-willed girl with amazing body gets introduced to some sort of drama that causes her to need money/be wed/sell her body/stow away on a ship/be disguised as boy

#2: Strong-willed girl meets 6'5" tall man, with enormous muscles, a great tan, LOTS of money, and is probably a duke/earl/viscount/lord/ranch owner/ship captain/cowboy and has amazing hair. And manly stubble, lots of manly stubble. And chest hair. Ooh... and strong hands, can't forget the strong hands.

#3: Girl is secretly fascinated with tall man but holds herself aloof because she's not that kind of girl and is trying to find some way to save her family/survive/marry off her sister/find her long lost father

#4: Tall man makes bet with his friends/needs a wife so he doesn't lose his fortune/is trying to save her from an evil villain but compromises her in his efforts. Tall man then can't stop thinking about girl and she becomes his every thought 24/7.

#5: Tall man marries girl/forces girl into bed with him/works out some sort of mistress agreement and is blissfully content in his life while she stews angrily (yet is deeply in love with him, but he doesn't do what she wants so she has to punish him).

#6: Girl runs away from tall man and secretly has baby that he doesn't know about. Tall man finally finds girl and baby and is overjoyed to be a father.

And they all live happily ever after.

The Reality:

#1: Average-looking girl gets herself into some sort of trouble because she opens her big mouth and causes problems

#2: Girl meets 5'9" guy with beer gut, lots of debt, and doughy hands.

#3: Girl starts plotting on how to get Guy to notice her and starts wearing incredibly revealing clothing and plying him with alcohol.

#4: Guy is desperately trying to escape the attention of Girl but ends up being backed into a corner and forced to marry her due to society's expectations/family/shotgun/drunk in Vegas.

#5: Guy tries to make the best of marriage that he's been forced into while Girl sulks that he has not instantly changed into what she wanted him to be. She finds herself upset that he hasn't started hanging on her every word, obsessing over her, or buying her flowers. Girl starts being snarky and passive aggressive to Guy.

#6: Girl runs away trying to get Guy to pay attention to her. When Guy finally finds Girl she is knocked up. Guy insists on paternity test to prove that child is his. After paternity is confirmed Guy and Girl settle in for a long, loveless marriage with separate bedrooms and cold, silent dinners.

The end