Tuesday, March 31, 2015
Fix 'em
I don't have kids. And I sure as hell don't want to raise yours. Parents who let their kids scream and run around in public unsupervised should be "fixed" like dogs to prevent future breeding. It's almost as irritating as women who thrive on the attention of having kids. No bitch. Go cure cancer. Then we'll talk praise.
ATTN shitty parents @Zankou
The little girl scrambled to sit beside me.
"Look what I can do!" she says enthusiastically, opening and closing an empty styrofoam container.
That's impressive, kid. Where's your mom?
"What's your name?" the little girl asks me.
If I was a horrible human being, I could totally kidnap this kid. No parents in sight. This kid is so going to run away from home one day.
"Where's your mom?" I asked the little girl.
"Over there." The little girl points to a woman across the room with her back to us, talking to a man.
"Is that your dad?" I asked the little girl?
"No. I don't know who that is." The little girl said, manically opening and closing the empty styrofoam box.
"Did he come with you." I ask the little girl.
"Nooooope." the girl sang.
Perfect. Mom is off chatting up some guy, ignoring her kid, leaving random Q society to babysit.
FYI mom, my babysitting fees are $800 an hour. And there's a pretty good chance I'm going to have sex with random men in your bed when your kid is asleep. Oh no, she won't wake up due to the whiskey I'll let her drink from my flask. Don't worry, its Irish whiskey. The real stuff. C'mon, I'm not a total monster.
Maybe you should think twice before thinking that leaving your kid in some random person's care at Zankou, is a good idea.
I mean, the only reason I was even wearing pants was because I was paid to.
"Look what I can do!" she says enthusiastically, opening and closing an empty styrofoam container.
That's impressive, kid. Where's your mom?
"What's your name?" the little girl asks me.
If I was a horrible human being, I could totally kidnap this kid. No parents in sight. This kid is so going to run away from home one day.
"Where's your mom?" I asked the little girl.
"Over there." The little girl points to a woman across the room with her back to us, talking to a man.
"Is that your dad?" I asked the little girl?
"No. I don't know who that is." The little girl said, manically opening and closing the empty styrofoam box.
"Did he come with you." I ask the little girl.
"Nooooope." the girl sang.
Perfect. Mom is off chatting up some guy, ignoring her kid, leaving random Q society to babysit.
FYI mom, my babysitting fees are $800 an hour. And there's a pretty good chance I'm going to have sex with random men in your bed when your kid is asleep. Oh no, she won't wake up due to the whiskey I'll let her drink from my flask. Don't worry, its Irish whiskey. The real stuff. C'mon, I'm not a total monster.
Maybe you should think twice before thinking that leaving your kid in some random person's care at Zankou, is a good idea.
I mean, the only reason I was even wearing pants was because I was paid to.
Friday, March 27, 2015
Maybe if you email me 20 more times...
Because, you never know, maybe I didn't get the first email, or the second email, and maybe I accidentally deleted the third email and fourth email, so you better write a fifth email, and a sixth email just to make sure I get the seventh email, and you never know maybe that email got buried amongst other emails, better write me an eighth, ninth and tenth email, and in case those accidentally go into a Spam folder, better write ten more times because... You're so awesome.
You Can't Win
Reading Steve Buscemi's Reddit. Love this guy! He mentioned liking this book, 'You Can't Win'.
My next read. Picking it up over the weekend.
My next read. Picking it up over the weekend.
Wednesday, March 25, 2015
And by smart people I mean...
Not these idiots who go on a public forum and scream, "I hate cops" and "I do drugs" and "I support drug use" and oh by the way here are my face pics, the city I live in, the parties I'm going to attend and... gee, could I make your (law enforcement) jobs any easier??
Wow.
All the people you don't want at your party.
Wow.
All the people you don't want at your party.
Tuesday, March 24, 2015
M Raw
And while we're on the subject of nutty women. I didn't want your company, not because you're "too old" as whined on social media. Don't be stupid. I didn't want anything to do with you because at the time you were going through a very ugly public fight with your wife. Smart people got it. No one wants to be associated with a guy who has a batty chick.
People make it hard.
It's so simple.
My money.
Your money.
My vagina.
Your penis.
As long as everyone understands this, we'll get along great!
The second you try telling me what to do with MY money and MY vagina, we're going to have problems.
People make it hard.
It's so simple.
My money.
Your money.
My vagina.
Your penis.
As long as everyone understands this, we'll get along great!
The second you try telling me what to do with MY money and MY vagina, we're going to have problems.
ass GAP
Story time!
Who wants to hear a bedtime story?
Once upon a time in a land far, far, oh fuck it, so three years ago a met mister GAP. I already heard the rumors about his (then) girlfriend being a fat crazy psycho nut-basket, but whatever. I prefer experience over gossip.
When I communicated with them, I addressed both him and the batshit crazy girlfriend, now wife, or so I heard.
Mister GAP said, "let's have lunch."
All said on their joint email. I wasn't hiding.
So mister GAP and I had lunch. Just lunch. He paid his bill. I paid mine. We went our separate ways immediately after. Never saw each other again. About 40 minutes after our lunch meeting, his meaty mental-case girlfriend sent me 20 death threat text messages. Awesome!!
Not the first time some batshit crazy psycho bitch lost her shit over "her man" having lunch with a member of the opposite sex, won't be the last.
About a month later we were both at a "Plash" party were I stood no less than 6 inches away from mister GAP's (then) nutjob girlfriend, and the crazy bitch couldn't even look me in the eye.
She couldn't even look me in the eye.
How exactly did she plan to carry out her death threat? With a guide dog?
It's called conviction. If you're going to send me death threats, at least have the nerve to look me in the eye afterwards when we meet face to face. And we (will) meet face to face, I assure you.
I don't hide. Not from anyone.
At the time mister GAP and I had lunch, he had just gotten his girlfriend fake breasts.
"She's a heavy girl," mister GAP said. "She was horribly disproportional. Big everywhere but small tits. The doctor who performed the surgery said I pay for this, he'll pay for that, and my girl fucked him."
Whatever. None of my business. I couldn't care less. Hollywood wheeling and dealing. I get it. Been there. Done that.
I had zero interest in mister GAP, he had/has nothing I want. But I wanted to meet him and the hype.
Yes. Indeed. All hype. 120% hype.
Professional swingers. Funny.
Point to my story is, before (you) start calling people "shallow" let's not forget people have met you. You got your chick fake tits to make her seem more attractive for barter.
You got her fake tits to barter her off.
To barter her off in hopes to get more pussy.
And you have the nerve to call other people shallow?
Right!
January 7, 2015 mister GAP wrote me again still wanting to hook up.
Guess your chick's fake tits still ain't getting you laid, eh GAPPY?
Congratulations! Money well spent!
Who wants to hear a bedtime story?
Once upon a time in a land far, far, oh fuck it, so three years ago a met mister GAP. I already heard the rumors about his (then) girlfriend being a fat crazy psycho nut-basket, but whatever. I prefer experience over gossip.
When I communicated with them, I addressed both him and the batshit crazy girlfriend, now wife, or so I heard.
Mister GAP said, "let's have lunch."
All said on their joint email. I wasn't hiding.
So mister GAP and I had lunch. Just lunch. He paid his bill. I paid mine. We went our separate ways immediately after. Never saw each other again. About 40 minutes after our lunch meeting, his meaty mental-case girlfriend sent me 20 death threat text messages. Awesome!!
Not the first time some batshit crazy psycho bitch lost her shit over "her man" having lunch with a member of the opposite sex, won't be the last.
About a month later we were both at a "Plash" party were I stood no less than 6 inches away from mister GAP's (then) nutjob girlfriend, and the crazy bitch couldn't even look me in the eye.
She couldn't even look me in the eye.
How exactly did she plan to carry out her death threat? With a guide dog?
It's called conviction. If you're going to send me death threats, at least have the nerve to look me in the eye afterwards when we meet face to face. And we (will) meet face to face, I assure you.
I don't hide. Not from anyone.
At the time mister GAP and I had lunch, he had just gotten his girlfriend fake breasts.
"She's a heavy girl," mister GAP said. "She was horribly disproportional. Big everywhere but small tits. The doctor who performed the surgery said I pay for this, he'll pay for that, and my girl fucked him."
Whatever. None of my business. I couldn't care less. Hollywood wheeling and dealing. I get it. Been there. Done that.
I had zero interest in mister GAP, he had/has nothing I want. But I wanted to meet him and the hype.
Yes. Indeed. All hype. 120% hype.
Professional swingers. Funny.
Point to my story is, before (you) start calling people "shallow" let's not forget people have met you. You got your chick fake tits to make her seem more attractive for barter.
You got her fake tits to barter her off.
To barter her off in hopes to get more pussy.
And you have the nerve to call other people shallow?
Right!
January 7, 2015 mister GAP wrote me again still wanting to hook up.
Guess your chick's fake tits still ain't getting you laid, eh GAPPY?
Congratulations! Money well spent!
Sunday, March 22, 2015
"We got drugs!"
I love people who offer me drugs to meet them. "Meet us! We have drugs!" Neat. I don't do drugs. Add to that, I make my own money plus I live in southern California. Venice Beach, is just down the street.
Among other things so terribly wrong with this scenario, you drug people to meet you?
I guess the counter argument could be, "I have this incredible bottle of Merlot, come by let's have a drink."
But again, I make my own money and I know where The nearest Pavilions, is.
I don't have "a plan" anymore. With family stuff going on back home, everything is on a day-to-day basis. My heart, my mind, my thoughts are all back in MN. Only my body lingers in Los Angeles, for now, that's it.
If you want something, if you're going to write me, make it short and sweet. To the point. And stop offering me drugs!
Here, I'll help you.
"Hello. My name is (your name.) I'm interested meeting you to discuss (your specific reason). If you're interested contact me back at (your preferred contact method.)
Have a nice day. (Your name)"
You don't even have to wish me a nice day, or tell me your real name. I don't care. Just stop offering me drugs!
Among other things so terribly wrong with this scenario, you drug people to meet you?
I guess the counter argument could be, "I have this incredible bottle of Merlot, come by let's have a drink."
But again, I make my own money and I know where The nearest Pavilions, is.
I don't have "a plan" anymore. With family stuff going on back home, everything is on a day-to-day basis. My heart, my mind, my thoughts are all back in MN. Only my body lingers in Los Angeles, for now, that's it.
If you want something, if you're going to write me, make it short and sweet. To the point. And stop offering me drugs!
Here, I'll help you.
"Hello. My name is (your name.) I'm interested meeting you to discuss (your specific reason). If you're interested contact me back at (your preferred contact method.)
Have a nice day. (Your name)"
You don't even have to wish me a nice day, or tell me your real name. I don't care. Just stop offering me drugs!
Thursday, March 19, 2015
czechoslovakia
Is this the only place not being attacked by drones, Isis, Dash, other terrorists groups, and North Koreans? Their "garden parties" look fun. And by garden parties, I mean porn.
Tuesday, March 17, 2015
Summer 2015
I'm in L.A. this summer (unless in MN to be with dad). Put me to work! I rather go to bed exhausted every night, than have 3 hours with nothing to do!
* I need a new French tutor. One that speaks fluent English and French. On my rare days off I can grab a lesson. Write me at: plaidskirttorpedoes@yahoo.com
* I need a new French tutor. One that speaks fluent English and French. On my rare days off I can grab a lesson. Write me at: plaidskirttorpedoes@yahoo.com
A day off
Got a run in. Bought shoe laces. Did laundry. Went to the bank. The grocery store. Took a nap. That's pretty much it. No one was around today/tonight. It's a Tuesday. And now back to work. Thankfully!! I hate having days off. Aside from having time to do all my laundry, there's really nothing else to do.
Schedule me in!
Schedule me in!
Thursday, March 12, 2015
Penis preservation!
I like it when middle aged white bitches use "black penis preservation" to make themselves seem enlightened and useful.
Look,
You want to preserve the black penis, preserve the whale!
Wait. Is whale penis black? Great. Now I have to Google whale penis. Just one more weird Google search. Whatever. You guys at Google should be used to it by now.
I got Filipino friend, who would pay top dolla' to see whale penis.
Top dolla'!
Top dolla'!!!
What was I talking about?
Right
Whale penis.
Did you see the documentary Blackfish? Fucking assholes. Violently rip a beautiful living creature out of its natural environment, cage it, torture it, and force it to perform unnatural tricks for profit in front of a paying audience and then act all surprised when it killed that white bitch who was training it?
Huh
Sounds vaguely familiar
BBC?
I like white men. I just do. Big white beautiful dick. BWC, if you will.
If anyone should be mad it should be Asian guys. While I have found some Asian men rather handsome, I've only had sex with one 1/2 Japanese (1/2 white) guy, on cam, who was incredibly hot, hung, and extremely talented at making yummie pies. :D
Mmmm pie.
I don't look at Asian men in a sexual way. I just don't.
But where's the outrage? WHERE'S THE OUTRAGE??!!
Ridiculous.
I was at an adult club one night, and as soon as my date went to the bathroom these two male adult performers approached me, one black, one white. The white guy (I recognized) says, "You know who this guy is, don't you?" he says pointing to the black guy.
Nope. No clue. Just one more dude swooping in on a girl the second her date leaves for the men's room?
"C'mon! He's a famous porn star!" the white guy says.
So?
Sorry darling. I know who (you) are but I didn't know your friend was an adult performer too until you told me. Either way, I'm not interested. In either one of you. Now get lost. Both of you's.
Both men walk away shaking their heads.
Who cares what that stupid white bitch says. I'm not into fucking black dudes. Or Asian dudes. Or Hispanic dudes. So there. I said it. Out loud. On the internet. On Google.
Who (the fuck) cares?
I can be friends with anyone, ANY COLOR, provided I have enough in common with them and we truly enjoy each other's company, but that doesn't mean I want to fuck them, nor should anyone feel like shit if they don't want to.
Sticks and stones, love.
But by all means keep telling people what they should, and should not do, eventually you're going to run into a black girl who will be more than happy to tell you to mind your own fucking white ass business. Maybe not online, oh but most definitely to your face!
Rest easy NAACP, that white bitch GOT THIS.
Look,
You want to preserve the black penis, preserve the whale!
Wait. Is whale penis black? Great. Now I have to Google whale penis. Just one more weird Google search. Whatever. You guys at Google should be used to it by now.
I got Filipino friend, who would pay top dolla' to see whale penis.
Top dolla'!
Top dolla'!!!
What was I talking about?
Right
Whale penis.
Did you see the documentary Blackfish? Fucking assholes. Violently rip a beautiful living creature out of its natural environment, cage it, torture it, and force it to perform unnatural tricks for profit in front of a paying audience and then act all surprised when it killed that white bitch who was training it?
Huh
Sounds vaguely familiar
BBC?
I like white men. I just do. Big white beautiful dick. BWC, if you will.
If anyone should be mad it should be Asian guys. While I have found some Asian men rather handsome, I've only had sex with one 1/2 Japanese (1/2 white) guy, on cam, who was incredibly hot, hung, and extremely talented at making yummie pies. :D
Mmmm pie.
I don't look at Asian men in a sexual way. I just don't.
But where's the outrage? WHERE'S THE OUTRAGE??!!
Ridiculous.
I was at an adult club one night, and as soon as my date went to the bathroom these two male adult performers approached me, one black, one white. The white guy (I recognized) says, "You know who this guy is, don't you?" he says pointing to the black guy.
Nope. No clue. Just one more dude swooping in on a girl the second her date leaves for the men's room?
"C'mon! He's a famous porn star!" the white guy says.
So?
Sorry darling. I know who (you) are but I didn't know your friend was an adult performer too until you told me. Either way, I'm not interested. In either one of you. Now get lost. Both of you's.
Both men walk away shaking their heads.
Who cares what that stupid white bitch says. I'm not into fucking black dudes. Or Asian dudes. Or Hispanic dudes. So there. I said it. Out loud. On the internet. On Google.
Who (the fuck) cares?
I can be friends with anyone, ANY COLOR, provided I have enough in common with them and we truly enjoy each other's company, but that doesn't mean I want to fuck them, nor should anyone feel like shit if they don't want to.
Sticks and stones, love.
But by all means keep telling people what they should, and should not do, eventually you're going to run into a black girl who will be more than happy to tell you to mind your own fucking white ass business. Maybe not online, oh but most definitely to your face!
Rest easy NAACP, that white bitch GOT THIS.
Monday, March 9, 2015
And then some dude tried to mug me... again
Since moving to Los Angeles, years ago, I've been the mark for two attempted muggings. Both times on a beautiful warm sunny afternoon, both times on La Brea, ave. Hollywood.
The first time some guy tried to mug me, I lived behind Crazy Girls strip club. It happened less than a block away from my apartment. He was a skinny white guy. 20 something I suspected. No shirt. Long shorts. Fishing hat pulled down right. Black high top Sketchers. He came up behind me, tried to push me down, but only knocked me off balance. He snatched my hand bag as I was looking for keys, and ran off.
Naturally,
I chased after him.
And when I was directly behind him, I shoulder rammed him in the back, hard as I could. He stumbled forward but quickly composed himself and kept running, my handbag cradled in his arm like a football.
I couldn't gain on him again close enough to touch him, but I continued to run after him. Never less than two steps behind him.
He lost wind just after La Brea and Santa Monica. Wimp. And threw my handbag over my head, in the direction from whence we came.
It was a hard decision, regaining my handbag, or continue chasing after this guy, but I turned, and ran back after my handbag.
The second time I was almost mugged happened last week.
He was a young kid. Maybe 20. Most likely still in his teens. Brown skin. Who knows from where?
He cased me for about a block. I knew he was following me but just to be sure I made a few fake stops pretending to look in my purse for something. The kid would stop walking every time I did, and just linger where he stood.
I wasn't about to bring trouble to my friend's work, so finally just turned around, looked at the kid, he looked back, and I yelled, "What fucker! What do you want!"
The kid startled and started to walk away. But I know "pretend" leaving, when I see it. So just to be sure I walked a few steps after him and yelled, "keep walking asshole! Keep the fuck walking!"
And that was it. I watched him all down the street until I couldn't see him anymore.
It's not hard to lift a purse. Even with a shoulder strap you can only hope they don't have a box cutter to cut the strap and run. Desperate people have no quarrel dicing through you to get what they want.
Even the non desperate people.
The first time some guy tried to mug me, I lived behind Crazy Girls strip club. It happened less than a block away from my apartment. He was a skinny white guy. 20 something I suspected. No shirt. Long shorts. Fishing hat pulled down right. Black high top Sketchers. He came up behind me, tried to push me down, but only knocked me off balance. He snatched my hand bag as I was looking for keys, and ran off.
Naturally,
I chased after him.
And when I was directly behind him, I shoulder rammed him in the back, hard as I could. He stumbled forward but quickly composed himself and kept running, my handbag cradled in his arm like a football.
I couldn't gain on him again close enough to touch him, but I continued to run after him. Never less than two steps behind him.
He lost wind just after La Brea and Santa Monica. Wimp. And threw my handbag over my head, in the direction from whence we came.
It was a hard decision, regaining my handbag, or continue chasing after this guy, but I turned, and ran back after my handbag.
The second time I was almost mugged happened last week.
He was a young kid. Maybe 20. Most likely still in his teens. Brown skin. Who knows from where?
He cased me for about a block. I knew he was following me but just to be sure I made a few fake stops pretending to look in my purse for something. The kid would stop walking every time I did, and just linger where he stood.
I wasn't about to bring trouble to my friend's work, so finally just turned around, looked at the kid, he looked back, and I yelled, "What fucker! What do you want!"
The kid startled and started to walk away. But I know "pretend" leaving, when I see it. So just to be sure I walked a few steps after him and yelled, "keep walking asshole! Keep the fuck walking!"
And that was it. I watched him all down the street until I couldn't see him anymore.
It's not hard to lift a purse. Even with a shoulder strap you can only hope they don't have a box cutter to cut the strap and run. Desperate people have no quarrel dicing through you to get what they want.
Even the non desperate people.
Saturday, March 7, 2015
Hollywood revisited
I'm so bored. It's a Tuesday, and I'm bored. My thoughts are in a hundred different directions, therefore in no direction. I can't get anything accomplished. Can't concentrate on any (one) thing long enough.
Hollywood. That's where I need to go. Hollywood. I have a love/hate relationship with this city. It's the most unsexy city on the planet. Dirt. Smog. Filth. There's nothing sexy about this city. Nothing. Be that as it may, it's still the creepy shitty next door neighbor who can get you the best seats in the stadium if you're willing to wheel and deal.
I'm in the mood to negotiate.
Sure.
Let's do this.
I've got my headsets on. Going about my business. Listening to the news. Twitter, is on the Isis hit list for closing down Isis affiliated accounts.
Directly ahead,
Some homeless guy is yelling at a Hollywood tour bus as it goes by. I take off my headsets.
"Hey! Hey! Richard Pryor, right here!" the homeless man yells at the bus, pointing at another man half dead on the sidewalk. "Yo! Richard Pryor, right here! Right here! Richard Pryor! Richard Pryor, right here! Right here! Richard Pryor!"
Not to be a critic, but it's kind of not funny after the 30th time you say it.
In the doorway if some motel,
A dozen cops are busting a guy for holding. I definitely don't stick around for that. Not after the downtown "incident" with that guy and the cops who shot him. I'm no one's collateral damage, and many of those cops (clearly) have bad aim.
Christ. Some guy is jerking off outside of Ralph's. Broad daylight. No, don't look. Don't look. Just keep walking.
You looked.
Hollywood. I go there when the weather is crummy. When I'm in a bad mood. When I feel like slumming.
Be seeing you again, old friend.
Thanks.
Hollywood. That's where I need to go. Hollywood. I have a love/hate relationship with this city. It's the most unsexy city on the planet. Dirt. Smog. Filth. There's nothing sexy about this city. Nothing. Be that as it may, it's still the creepy shitty next door neighbor who can get you the best seats in the stadium if you're willing to wheel and deal.
I'm in the mood to negotiate.
Sure.
Let's do this.
I've got my headsets on. Going about my business. Listening to the news. Twitter, is on the Isis hit list for closing down Isis affiliated accounts.
Directly ahead,
Some homeless guy is yelling at a Hollywood tour bus as it goes by. I take off my headsets.
"Hey! Hey! Richard Pryor, right here!" the homeless man yells at the bus, pointing at another man half dead on the sidewalk. "Yo! Richard Pryor, right here! Right here! Richard Pryor! Richard Pryor, right here! Right here! Richard Pryor!"
Not to be a critic, but it's kind of not funny after the 30th time you say it.
In the doorway if some motel,
A dozen cops are busting a guy for holding. I definitely don't stick around for that. Not after the downtown "incident" with that guy and the cops who shot him. I'm no one's collateral damage, and many of those cops (clearly) have bad aim.
Christ. Some guy is jerking off outside of Ralph's. Broad daylight. No, don't look. Don't look. Just keep walking.
You looked.
Hollywood. I go there when the weather is crummy. When I'm in a bad mood. When I feel like slumming.
Be seeing you again, old friend.
Thanks.
It's all about him now
Dad had a few setbacks last month. Couldn't get his last chemo. Some complications. BUT he's a tough guy. He has a procedure on the 11th to remove a small brain tumor. No problems after that, and he can resume chemo.
I'm just working. Here. There. Everywhere. Can't really do much of anything else. I have nothing to offer/give to anyone right now.
If you want something from me not related to work, you're going to be waiting a while.
A long while (I suspect.)
And in the meantime I'm seeing more and more guys I once knew in varied forms of adult material. Good for them. It really is all about the men right now. It's their time. It's strange recognizing faces. Guys I hung out with, briefly knew. Awkward.
The men I work/ed with (live) and I, barely nod hello should we see each other out in public. It's just the way it is. Once I leave, that part of my day/life is over. No small talk.
So now it's just work...
And wait.
I'm just working. Here. There. Everywhere. Can't really do much of anything else. I have nothing to offer/give to anyone right now.
If you want something from me not related to work, you're going to be waiting a while.
A long while (I suspect.)
And in the meantime I'm seeing more and more guys I once knew in varied forms of adult material. Good for them. It really is all about the men right now. It's their time. It's strange recognizing faces. Guys I hung out with, briefly knew. Awkward.
The men I work/ed with (live) and I, barely nod hello should we see each other out in public. It's just the way it is. Once I leave, that part of my day/life is over. No small talk.
So now it's just work...
And wait.
Tuesday, March 3, 2015
How to capture a unicorn
My solo girl friends and I love reading all these couples talk about how to find a unicorn.
No, by all means tell us how it's done!
No, by all means tell us how it's done!
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