If you didn’t want your ass beaten, then why were you born a whore? Seems like it would have been easier to just be a normal girl, but you couldn’t even get that much right, you mindless little fuck-up.
Pathetic.
Like your blog what turns you on the most
rapeandprettybows-deactivated20:
When a man just takes what he wants 🙂
Then you’re gonna love when you come home to find your TV missing.
“There! Aren’t I doing a good job? I am, right? Do you like me now? Please say you like me now! Please. Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease.”
This is so me.
If you aren’t an over-eager little piece of fuck-trash, how else will you ever catch the attention of the garbage man of your dreams…?
lol a post by scumdoll just made me think of this.
There absolutely *must* be another season of *Party Down* sometime soon. I have to believe in the dream.
I like to set impossible goals for you and then slowly, steadily destroy your soul with an unending recitation of your failures.
That’s something we have in common, I know.
Wouldn’t it be something if you could actually cum with a man who wanted to hear what you think or how you feel? I bet it would really make you feel special.
But alas…
I don’t believe in unfair discrimination. You deserve to have your tits hurt just as much as the next whore, even if you don’t have any.
A Momentary Lapse Of Frisson
As some of my followers know, I am not uncritical of my own content, particularly in terms of it reaching beyond my intended audience. (Said audience being: adult women who get off on feeling like misfit toys.) If you’re not part of that beautifully fucked-up group, then my feelings about your readership range from relaxed indifference to active concern.
Up to now, I’ve had two primary policies for dealing with those active concerns:
- If you’re under eighteen, absolutely fuck off. I’ll block you if I spot you. Go try being good girls and boys for a few more years, okay? After all, maybe the It Gets Better people are right, and you’ll end up having a relatively uncomplicated and fulfilling sex life.
- I squint in mild disapproval at the occasional legal adults who seem a little too stupid to be allowed in the drawer where Mom keeps the sharper, stabbier words. (Remember folks: never run with “cunt”s.) But I didn’t actually do anything about such folks, other than be silently judgy.
I’ve decided to rethink and refine these policies into a single guideline. Going forward, it will be:
- If I look at your blog and you’re under 18, or someone who argues without irony that men are some sort of oppressed class, or if you are, in general, kind of a whiny, entitled individual, I’m blocking you. No hard feelings, but I’ll pass on your patronage, thanks. You’re not my audience.
Damaged goods at bargain prices.
Portable urinals. When you just don’t feel like using the regular urinal, bring a woman to the party.
Especially a blonde one. I don’t know why, but they make the most satisfying urinals of all.
See? I told you guys blondes have more fun!
You realize, of course, that once I’m done pissing on you, you’re walking the fuck home. I’m not going to be seen associating with a damp and reeking gutter cunt in public, and you’re not getting back in the car like that.
On second thought, I have a compromise. Just strip down in the parking lot, throw your clothes in the trunk, and slather on some Purell. Maybe if you blow me with sufficient gusto, I’ll forget how disgusted I am that you let me do any of this to you in the first place, you messed-up little headcase.