Why guys suck.

*In an Australian accent*

Men. One of the world’s biggest mysteries, these creatures move from point A to point B without so much as a second look, leaving destruction and confusion in their wake, never to be heard from again. Today, I’ll break down the complexities that is “the man” and try to solve this mystery for you.

The following are based on real-life events. For the privacy of all parties involved, I’ve exposed them and KARMA BITCH.

I’m not saying that women aren’t bat-shit crazy, we are. But men would be too if they had super high levels of estrogen coursing through their bodies so that their nipples are so sensitive shirts hurt and blood coming out of their vaginas when Aunt Flow mistakes the uterus as a stress ball. But that’s just what men want you to think. They do everything they can to deflect and to blame us. There must be some secret class they take throughout their youths that educate them in the art of deception. What I have learned is that men are the most oblivious to their own feelings and can’t admit anything to themselves. When women vibe with someone, they want to text them, talk to them, touch them, see them. When men catch feelings, they are out of there faster than when Scooby-Doo sees a ghost. Men, why you scared?

Here’s the thing, I think guys go into situations with the thought that they are just going to bang a chick and brag to their friends even though they likely lasted 4 seconds and don’t know how to properly pull hair or choke a girl LIKE A REAL MAN. They tell a girl everything they “want” and as soon as the girl delivers, she’s a psycho. The line “crazy ex-girlfriend” is only a deflection but I can tell you guys, we really don’t care. Yes, we hope you are miserable and die but otherwise, we really don’t care because at the end of the day, we know how to ruin your life. That probably didn’t prove my point but it’s true so watch out.

I met a nice guy that had every quality I was looking for – basically Christian Grey. I was doing my thing and dating a few people, so he told me that when I was done dating other guys, reach out to him. So I eventually did and he was feeling it. Then he stands me up on a date and totally dropped off the map. Every few weeks he hits me up. So I said “what the hell are you doing – I did everything you asked and you totally deserted me”. So he says, “I told you I wanted to be casual and you were taking this too seriously and dating other people at the same time” which I wasn’t. I’m sorry what? You want to be exclusive, but casual………. . . . . . . . . Then he changed the story and said that he didn’t want to come home from a long day of work and have to comfort me in everything that is going on in my life. This never happened, not once. Also, what is going on in my life?! Please explain. Throughout this novel of a conversation he had with me VIA TEXT, he at one point said that he was developing feelings and got scared. Then brushed right over and kept saying he wanted to be casual but I was taking it too seriously, even though he asked me to be exclusive. I don’t know what kind of salt he was sniffing but he was speaking language only a true fuckboi can translate.

There was another guy I was dating for a few months, or so I thought, and apparently he got hit by a bus and died somewhere in this relationship. He didn’t, but I hoped he had because that’s the only reasonable explanation for ghosting this nickel. We had 3 dates in the first week, I met his parents, we talked on the phone for 2 hours a day every day. It was perfect. Then boom – bus. Mind you – he was the one that called me every day and made plans for all of these dates that we were going to have. Then when I texted him a few times after he ghosted me, he said I wanted too much and he was too busy for anyone. I’m sorry, were you not the one that reached out first every time? And bitch I’m busy too – I am a grown-ass woman buying a house and I have a full-time job and I’m in grad school. I still had time for him but I guess women are better multi-taskers since we’re used to taking care of babies. I know how attractive us independent, mature-ass women are. I had told him MONTHS before my dad moved to New Hampshire that he bought a house up there and would tell him about it sometimes. One time I was even on FaceTime him when my dad called me and I said let me call you back because my dad is calling and he’s in New Hampshire. A month after my dad moves up there he said to me, “yikes, when did he decide that?” You fucktard. This is why guys suck. Then he said maybe I’m not cut out for friends with benefits. -_- NEXT.

I understand that this is making me look like a complete stage 5 clinger and that maybe I should get the hint since all feedback is the same. But I have enough evidence to confirm my hypotheses and the answer to this mystery is that guys have a severe vitamin deficiency where their brains don’t develop past the age of 16. That’s it. They’re just done absorbing knowledge, social cues, and chivalry. To all the men (man) reading this – I am not anti-man. Trust, I love me some kielbasa. We just really need to find you some help so you can stop being a skid-mark on the underwear of society and be a decent human being.

If you or someone you know is introduced to a fuckboi, please have the fuckboi reach out to the national fuckboi hotline at +1-605-475-6968.

Why I’m poor…

I took a poll on Instagram to see if my peeps wanted more home posts or life posts. Life took the win because of the mockery that it is, but I wanted to do a combination post here. I promise, my next post will be worth your while as I set out to explain the mystery that is man. However, I bought some really cute things the other day at Target and Kirkland’s and wanted to show my 3 followers. Look at my cute puppy below.

Target is crack to the common white girl. I went in the other day for hand soap and instead left with throw pillows and fake plants. I didn’t even get hand soap! It’s probably because they offer us PSLs right when we walk in the door and my DSLs cannot resist. The rest of the shopping trip went dark.

Lamp: Target. Wax warmer: Scentsy. Hello sign: Kirkland’s. Plant & basket: Marshall’s. Self-respect: lost.

The worst thing I can ever do is go to brunch and have mimosas, followed by a trip to Target. That’s when I buy all the baby/toddler clothes for my nieces and convince myself I don’t want a baby, even though my womb reaches its hand out and puts that damn set of cute ass overalls in my cart. But in all honesty, Target is the one place I don’t make a shopping list even though I SHOULD. I swear its like a mind-erasing black hole. I always try to make myself feel better by saying, “I’ll buy my groceries here so I can knock that out too.” The groceries at Target are approximately 2.5x more expensive than at a grocery store, and their produce is garbage so it ends up being a total waste of money. I can’t speak to their hand soap since I didn’t make it to that aisle. Since I spent all my money, I had to go home and eat ice cubes for dinner.

Here is what I went to Target for:

  • hand soap
  • pumpkin decor – which my Target did NOT have yet
  • a tan cardigan

Here is what I left Target with:

  • coasters
  • throw pillows
  • a shelf
  • other clothes
  • frozen pizzas & juice
  • hand weights (????)
  • fake air plants
  • school supplies – not even in school
  • storage containers
  • costume for my dog
  • a mini picnic table that holds my condiments (????)
Olivia: Shiba Inu

Also, going to Target is like an extreme sport. By the time I make it out of that jungle, I get to the register drenched in sweat. It’s like 1000 degrees in there always, but it could also be the double shot of espresso in my latte that ramps up my anxiety mixed with the bright fluorescent interrogation lights, the self-confidence-killing-self-checkout camera and the pack of water bottles I picked up and put down because I couldn’t afford but who needs to use plastic like that anyway – am I rambling? I feel like I’m rambling but idk why because I just had the 3 lattes. Why is it that I look 200+ lbs in that check-out camera? Is it because I am? Because my magic mirror at home shows me looking like Cinderella at the ball and now I am confused by what’s real anymore. Oh and dodging people you know but don’t want to see or talk to so you make your way down the men’s underwear aisle to hide out but feel awkward being there so you act as if you are buying your husband new boxers but really you are just looking for ANYTHING else to do other than talk to someone. Have you seen the new Hanes comfort waist bands?

I finally sweat my way out of Target and bopped down to the other stores like Kirkland’s and Pier One to harvest my pumpkin decorations. While in these stores, I knocked over 2 lamps and 1 picture frame. Hopefully I’m not blacklisted but if anyone sees my picture hanging up, please lmk.

Hello fall picture and flower in vase: Kirkland’s. Bronco statue: Marshall’s. Dog hair: Olivia’s.

Anyway, now I have to return the following things:

  • coasters
  • throw pillows
  • a shelf
  • other clothes
  • frozen pizzas & juice
  • hand weights
  • fake air plants
  • school supplies
  • storage containers
  • costume for my dog
  • a mini picnic table for my condiments
  • men’s underwear

I’m a *scorpio*, not a psycho.

Mom, my dear, only follower, this is your one chance to stop reading if you don’t want to know ~certain things~ about your daughter. But enter at your own risk, if you wish.

Ya’ll… I have to tell you about something that just happened to me this week. I had a Tinder bro call ME a psychopath and that I only was talking to him for my social media. So, BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR because you got it, bub – you are the first Tinder fiasco that made it on my blog. Congrats!

About two months ago, I had a sexual awakening. I am in my late 20’s and I realized that in order for me to know what I want in life, I have to get out there and experience it – be it engaged men (oops), short men, tall men, ~small~ men, or genuine serial killers. And you know, guys can go boink whoever they want, brag to their friends, become famous in Hollywood, but someone will label me a whore or a slut for it. So bring it on, I’m a slut AND I’M NOT SORRY BOUT IT. But also, if you have any single friends let me know because I want to settle down and have a relationship.

So, anyway, I’m swiping, I’m swiping – left, left, left, left, rig-left, left, right, left, right, left, left, and so on (side note: I was told recently that men swipe right to 1/10 girls. Boys, we got like 1/50 on you). BOOM I have a match. We’ll call him Parker. Parker is a nice looking guy in his 30’s, a little mysterious – literally no bio. We’re talking about how we think the other is attractive while starting to make jokes to each other, like how we’re going to make a porno (at least I thought it was a joke). After about two days of messaging on Tinder, I ask if he is ever going to ask me for my phone number. He replies, “I was going to ask you for your Snapchat…” I joked, “Ok, but you can’t have both.” He adds me on Snapchat with a dumb ass username… you think that would be my second clue. He instantly asks if he can send me inappropriate photos and I said, “sure, but I am sick and ugly right now so I can’t reciprocate.” Anyone that knows Snap knows that you can send a Snap picture that disappears after viewing, or you can send a saved picture from your phone. The first two pictures he sends me are one of him with a good Myspace angle, followed by a video of him oiling the ol’ pogo-stick. My god – he had the biggest eggplant parm I have ever seen. So, I entertain it and we start sexting – really I’m just eating popcorn and watching The Big Bang Theory while responding “ooo yeah what else” every now and then. I sent him an old pic and then some others (calm down it was over snap, they disappear)… but enough about me. Each time we spoke following this, he just wanted to sext. I mean I asked him one question – how long was your last relationship? – and he berated me and said “no. nope. we’re not doing this. you’re going to kill it and we both know this is a dirty Tinder fuck and nothing more. Let’s just admit that we’re whores for each other” Oh. Ok. Excuse the hell out of me. Dramatic. Also, one of the first things I said to him was “I’m not just here for sex” and he said “good.” Did I interpret that wrong? Did he not just confirm that we aren’t just talking for sex? Also he made it very clear that when we bump uglies he will not be using a condom even though I requested it (I know, strides). So, tbh, I backed off texting him because I wasn’t sure if I somehow signed up for a Dom service – did they already take my first month’s payment? How do I get that back? Am I actually going to be hung from the ceiling by my butt hole? Eventually he asked if I would ever be into threesomes, “not now but in the future.” “Sure,” I said because, who isn’t curious? And THE ONLY reason I kept talking to him was because he had THE BIGGEST Ballpark frank I have ever seen and, well, girl’s gotta eat. His response to my “sure” was “ok I can make it happen.” Then, god forbid I said, “what’s up.” Big mistake. Huge. He says, “so I’m kind of in a couple right now but its open.” I just said, “what does that mean?” “It means she is an option,” then sends me a pic of her. No. Nope. Hell nah. I’M A CLASSY BROAD.

TBH, I ignored that because I was hanging on to “not now but in the future.” Well, wheels started spinning in my head (I know, a rarity) and I started to think back to how this was most definitely a catfish. He had 4 photos on Tinder, 1 with a Snap filter, and no bio. The only thing I got out of him was that he didn’t have kids and he works in insurance. I asked him on multiple occasions things about his life but to no avail. Also, EVERY picture he sent me was pre-saved. Legit, it was like 10 pm and he said “I’m hard for you right now.” So I said “pic or it didn’t happen.” So he sends me a pic that was clearly taken in his mother’s dining room, sitting on her floral couch holding his willy, with light coming in through the window. He at one point asked if my mom would be interested in our porno and if we could get an old man to film us. Listen, I am into trying new things and I’ll admit, I’m a little freaky – remember, scorpio. But, damn, at this point he wasn’t even treating me like a human being but rather a walking vagina with lips – *wait*. He said:

Seriously, I have no idea what he just said to me right there. THEN HE SENT ME A GIF OF IT. FUCKING IT THE CLOWN. WTF YOU FUCKING SERIAL KILLER. I thought he was joking because he had a weird sense of humor. But instead of answering my “what” on text, he messages me on Snapchat and says that I coaxed him in under false pretenses and that I just wanted to talk to him for my social media and called me a psychopath. Then says “mwah, bye”. I’m the psychopath?! No hunny, I’m a scorpio. And guess what PARKER, you done made it on my social media you GENUINE misogynistic sociopathic catfishing motherfucker. He’s from New Jersey. I should have known that nothing good would come from that.

Listen, I am not knocking Tinder. I have had some great Tinder flings – looking at you, Kyle – even though none of them wanted to marry me and ended up blocking me. Again, *not a psychopath*. But ladies, if there is even a distant glimmer of crazy – I mean like you’re not sure if it’s a spaceship in the distance on that person’s lawn or tail lights from a truck because you’re just really high – RUN AWAY. I had many signs. I pray that my attack dog, Olivia, protects me when this creepy ass motherfucker pops out of my sink drain in the middle of the night.

For now, I’m gonna go hit up my other 4 matches and see what they’re doing.

That one time I worked out…

Monday

I had this crazy idea that my fat ass needed to work out. Mind you, the last time I worked out was approximately 1 year ago and at this point, I could pick up a pack of water bottles and be sore afterwards. I mean like physically shaking. Unless you count the times I go up and down the stairs. Also, my doctor told me I really need to adopt a vegan diet and do some exercise, so I switched doctors. But nevertheless, I decided to start listening to the sound of my blood pressure throbbing in my ear and the diabetes building in my blood vessels, and thought maybe I should try to not die today. Boy, did I regret that decision.

This story was based on actual events from an actual person (me) and may not be suitable for younger audiences. See, we have a gym at work and I have been in this building for over a year now. So I go ignorantly skipping in to what looks like an old electrical room with mirrors (behind the machines – ?????) and it smells like absolute piss. I mean, 1-hundo-p a homeless man used to live in there, I’m sure of it. So, I go into the women’s bathroom to get changed. There are two sinks, some lockers, one toilet and two showers. The shower doors are CLEAR, so I can see what you’re really hiding under that dress, Karen. There is a scale in there that is really weirdly stuck on 202 pounds. It was getting really annoying because every time I stepped on it, it said the same thing!!! How will I ever know how much I weigh if it keeps saying 202 pounds when I get on it? Anyway, I go to use the bathroom and come out to wash my hands. The automatic soap dispenser wasn’t working and with all the sweat and homeless person pee in that place, I was not about to leave the bathroom without soap. Under the sink was a button that I assumed controlled the soap dispenser. I pressed it. BAD idea. The damn soap dispenser wouldn’t stop dispensing soap. Thankfully, I was the only one in the gym at that time. Soooo…. we’re just going to ignore that.

Next, I go out and get on the elliptical. I was surprisingly able to do 30 minutes on that bad boy, and not at all because there was a giant double bacon cheeseburger standing outside the window, waving “come and get me” from the parking lot. I was determined to do other things while I was at the gym, so after my “run”, I go to the stretch area and I lay face-down, like an over-weight starfish on a mat that was already on the ground. When I build up enough energy to begin stretching, I look around and realize there is no sanitation solution in the room. My face was literally laying in someone’s ball sweat, which I can’t complain too much because that is something I am not unaccustomed to. So I shake it off and stand up to do some squats. After about 5 of those, I thought my ass was really looking pretty good already. I wanted to do some crunches before I left so I did about 6 of those (on the same ball-sweat mat). And these were the kind where you lay with your arms back over your head and your legs straight out, not touching the ground, then you pass the big medicine ball from your hands to your feet, then straighten out, then from your feet to your hands, and repeat. This is how it is supposed to look:

Image result for medicine ball crunches

This is how it actually looked:

That’s actually me.

At this point I am really feeling worn out and in need of a 7-day course of antibiotics and a pap smear. I worked out for a ~whole 45 minutes~ and I was proud so I took a snap-chat picture to send to all the boys that have ever slept with me (*and ghosted me) to remind them that I am still here. Well, I go back into the bathroom to wash up and collect my stuff and THE SOAP DISPENSER WAS STILL DISPENSING. I tried pressing the button again but it just made it come out faster. The whole counter top of the sink was covered in soap – like a whole bottle of soap. LOL OOPS. Luckily, I was still the only one in t – and here comes Karen… goddammit Karen.

Today

This was 4 days ago. I still can’t poop, cough, sneeze, laugh or stand up straight. My FUPA hurts so bad I keep thinking I have diarrhea or period cramps. You don’t know how much you use your “abs” until you make the huge mistake of doing crunches. Anyway, I hope by the weekend I no longer feel sore from my 6 crunches and 6 squats. The only workout I want to do is FITNESS WHOLE PIZZA IN MY MOUTH, but I will always remember that one son-of-a-bitch Monday that I made the worst mistake of my life. So remember, my spiceful fiends, ALWAYS CHOOSE DYING OVER EXERTING ANY PHYSICAL EFFORT.

I can smell the pumpkin spice already…

Too soon?

Be thankful you still have 2 months before Scorpio szn starts because I have a whole slew of word vomit on that one.

I think it is my duty to defend why Fall is the best season out there so buckle up because this one is about to get a little spicy…

Reasons why Fall is the bomb DOT com:

  • Basic bitch outfits
  • Pumpkin spice errrrrrrything
  • Perfect weather
  • The best holidays

Need I say more? Because I will… Ok, I will.

The Basics

I’m not one to wear crop tops and shorts up my ass because I’m chunky but more power to those who can. For the other 90% of the world, comfort is key. Fall eases you in to the comfy clothes. It starts off with t-shirt and jeans then, pretty quickly, the open cardi. Before you know it you have full on sweatshirt, scarf, beanie, leggings (because basic bitches ain’t practical), and Uggs. This is my outfit for an entire 3 months, day or night. It’s great because you don’t have to shower and homeless-chic is IN, girl, yaasss. The scarf also doubles as a blind-fold in case you’re into some freaky shit, like that fantasy you always had about a man with a decent amount of facial hair and tattoos who kidnaps you at a bar, shoves you in his trunk, and takes you back to his sex dungeon so he can literally rip your nipples off with clamps, but I am not here to judge because we’ve all done it…no? just me? In all seriousness, there is nothing better than being comfortable and that is why Fall wardrobe (or basic bitch uniform) is the big warm hug I love.

PSL

Men, boys, bros. DON’T ACT LIKE YOU AIN’T LOVE YOU SOME PUNKIN SPICE. The pumpkin spice latte to Fall is the White Claw to Summer (although at this rate, Starbucks and Dunkin’ are going to make pumpkin spice lattes be the White Claw to Summer). In true Spiceful Life form, the PSL is my favorite drink and you can get yours 8/21 at Dunkin’ and 8/27 at the ‘bucks. But why the craze? Just like the smell of fresh-baked cookies reminds someone of their grandma’s house, or black cherry tobacco is reminiscent of Grandpa smoking a pipe, weed and sweaty gym socks of their first boyfriend’s Honda Civic, pumpkin spice reminds us bitches of the best time of year. I MEAN IT IS LITERALLY DRINKING HOT PUMPKIN PIE AND COFFEE. Also, who doesn’t love walking into a house that smells like spice anything? WHO?! You know what, I don’t need to explain what y’all already know because I see you, Mike, drinking that PSL. Spice up your life – vote Pumpkin Spice for Fall.

Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com

Mother Nature

YOU GO GIRL because that clean, crisp, slightly chilly air floats my boat. In Summer, you walk outside and are instantly suffocated by Mother Nature’s armpit and need a shower before you leave your porch while getting instantaneous sunburn. In Winter, your skin is dry, your hair full of static, your nose runny and no matter what you wear you will freeze to death outside and sweat through your third pair of underwear inside. In Spring, well, it’s a good thing pollen is green with all that snot flying through the air. Fall is the only season that you don’t have to bathe in petroleum jelly and can sleep with the windows open and the hall fan on. And the bonfires!!! Whoever decided advertising bonfires and s’mores in Summer was psychotic. I don’t want to sit outside in Satan’s anus while melting something over a fire. All I can say is I am going through my deodorant and electricity bill rapid fire this Summer so if we can fast forward to the beautiful street decor of dying trees, I’d appreciate it.

Candy, birthday cake and mashed potatoes

These are the delicacies of my three favorite holidays: Halloween, my birthday and Thanksgiving. Now, Summer, I will give it to you that it makes more sense for me to wear a slutty kitten costume with my ass and tits hanging out when its warm, but don’t we all like to suffer just a little? Jokes on you though because I will forever find a costume in which I can wear footie pajamas. Growing up, I was not much of a fan of Halloween but now I no longer have to sleep with a night light and the TV on. Now I’m like, “bring it on season 2 of The Haunting of Hill House because your first season didn’t scare the crap out of me like I expected, mmkayyy.” Then, the VERY NEXT WEEKEND, is my birthday – the day the world was upgraded when my fine ass was spanked alive. If I am being honest, my birthday isn’t one of my favorite holidays, but who doesn’t love a day where their social media notifications skyrocket? Also, having divorced parents really ups the gift count 😉 But then there is Thanksgiving. Turkey Day. The day before Left Over Day. I could literally eat a whole pot of mashed potatoes for Thanksgiving and be the happiest clam in the world. But what is really the best is the next day when we get to make the Moist Maker (for all my Friends nerds out there). I never like my food touching but on Black Friday I want all of the garbage smashed onto bread. I’m starting to understand why I fall into the 10% that can’t wear crop-tops and hot-pants.

If I haven’t buttered your biscuit and tickled your fancy for Fall, you’re a cold, dead Turkey. That’s all for now. Keep it spicy.

Oh. And E-A-G-L-E-S… you know the rest.

What’s up, home-ys?

In March of 2019, I purchased my first home – by myself.

Since then, I have spent much of my time and money pretending to be Joanna Gaines. I was scared that buying a house and living there by myself was going to cause me to be homesick, even though I am 3 miles from home. To prevent this, I wanted to make it homey and really reflect my style, which I think I have been waiting to do since I left for college at 18. Now, people ask me to help decorate for them – which by the way people, I am serious when I say I will help!

The entry way

I am on a budget so my favorite app right now is Wayfair. My rugs come from Wayfair or RugsUSA, which always has amazing sales and coupons. As far as decor goes, Target and Kirkland’s are my go-to. My [fake] house plants all come from HomeGoods.

Rustic-chic dining area

Here are some tips I’ve learned when decorating a bare, budgeted home:

  • Always buy the big stuff on holidays. My couch was 40% off from Johnny Janosik on President’s day.
  • Do NOT get a white couch if you have a dog. People told me this but I did not listen because, well, fashion.
  • You can ALWAYS find it cheaper. If your heart is set on something, Google the shit out of it. You can find it on sale (ads through Facebook will definitely help with this!) and the same rug from one site is almost always cheaper on another.
  • Build-able furniture is the cheapest – it fills the lonely void in your life by giving you a project and it works (if you don’t strip all the screws).
Living room – white couch with dog-saving blanket

The other thing I get asked a lot is “how are you such a good decorator?” Ok, no one asks me that but they should. The answer is – I am constantly changing and rearranging. I did not just walk into my home one day and put everything in its place. I am always deciding I don’t like something or that looks too cluttered or where am I going to hang this other pack of sea urchin thingys? Tip – they also make great table top decor as seen in my dining room. Just have patience and keep moving things to know what you like and don’t like. And, when in doubt, ask me!

The kitchen area is small, so smaller furniture worked best

That’s all for now – don’t forget to live a little spicy.