Tuesday, January 15, 2019

Mommy shark do do do do do do


They’re called limousine liberals. Wealthy liberals who don’t want you anywhere near them. In other words, hypocrites. 

As I remind my Democrat/liberal friends, these wealthy liberals like Pelosi live in their mansions behind high security walls for protection, but then vote against non wealthy Americans to have the same sense of security. 

Hypocrites

When MY Democrat girlfriends debate against conservative political issues, they’re not hypocrites. They’re not wealthy liberals yelling at me to pay, pay, pay, (to begin with) money I don’t have.  

But when Oprah yells about how it’s every American’s responsibility to pay, pay, pay, your very last cent for everyone else’s children, I just want to get drunk and watch giraffes on TV from my bathtub. 


Did anyone not see this coming?


No. Who would vote for this diplomatic nightmare of a woman? 


😶

Incoming! 

Email 

“I would love to hear what you would do if I we were going to my room with a fresh bottle of Prosecco !”

ANSWER: Absolutely nothing. I don’t drink white wine. Learn a bitch! 

I don’t like cold and/or sweet wine. I’ll opt out for a dry vodka martini instead, or blended margarita depending on where we are. If it’s 100 degrees out I might have a beer, but be forewarned beer gives me gas.

How many times can you sell your soul to the devil? Asking for a friend. 

I love giraffes. Random information. But I do. Sweet calming creatures. I could watch baby giraffes all day. Even if the baby giraffes were just sitting in front of the camera blinking and being cute, I could watch them for an hour. No problem. A hot bubble bath, a glass of Souverain Cabernet Reserve, and an hour of nothing but giraffes on Netflix or YouTube, and I am one with the world.

Until

“I don’t understand your pictures.”

Shocking. You don’t understand my drawings either. Or women for that matter. I can’t tell you how many emails I get by men who think the surefire way getting me interested in their dicks is by offering me a massage. 

A massage? Are we 14? Yawn stretch one arm over my shoulder?

If I wanted a massage I’d go to an experienced licensed masseur with references and pay them to work out my stress and not fuck me. That’s what a real masseur does. Get paid to not fuck me.

And another thing!

How desperate...

Ok look...

Aside from the fact I’m not into younger men, at all, if you’re a 30-something year old guy there are plenty of women your age. Don’t go hustling grandma for sex. That’s just...

That’s...

No.

I’m 50 years old, honey. 

That’s just...

No. 

I don’t like sex anymore. I mean I like sex, but only with myself. Because no one has sex anymore. No one makes out anymore. No one kisses. No one just has good old fashion drinks, laughter, foreplay and sex anymore. Even my smartphone doesn’t know what foreplay is. It keeps auto correcting to fireplace. Sex nowadays there’s gotta be cameras, and sex swings, and 20 different dildos and vibrators, and a peacock for some reason, and disco lights, and a blindfold - which I will never take seriously ever again thank you Bird Box. What ever happened to just sex? A glass of wine, laughing, kissing, foreplay, sex, pillow talk... god I’m old.

I like taking pictures. It’s instant gratification for me. It takes an hour or two to shoot, and two hours to go through pics and edit, but it takes about 100 hours to finish a drawing. 

A part of me misses working on a creative team. Those were good times. Record stores. Radio stations. Networks. Nightclubs. Advertising. Record labels. I miss having jobs where I couldn’t believe I was getting paid to work there. Paid sick days. Paid vacation. Free (everything!) Work whatever hours you want as long as you made your productivity quota and hit project deadlines. I miss those gigs. Did we make millions of dollars? No. But it was so much fun. I loved those jobs. I loved going to work. Ridicule the sales dept and the bosses took you out for liquid lunches. I didn’t pay for concert ticks for something like seven or eight years. We got promo concert tickets for everywhere in LA. Those were the days! Aaaand then I got married. 

Anyway

If I ever own a success business and hire a creative team, this boss is taking the team out for occasional liquid lunches! Come to work, do your jobs, go home, absolutely I’m taking you guys out for lunches. 

People don’t treat each other right anymore. My friends are amazing! But we’ve also known each other since we were children. It’s love. I’m just talking about adults, men and women, meeting, socializing, getting to know each other. Basic his and hers social skills. Just doesn’t happen anymore.

Kinda depressing.

Fuck it. I’m going to take a bath and watch giraffes. 

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