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The opposite of Sex

Anastasia Beaverhausen has changed her name.

Written by Molloy

Men. I hate men. Can’t live with em, can’t kill ‘em. It’s an old cocktail party joke, but so true on so many levels. I get now why so many of my ‘middle-aged’ girlfriends have gone lesbo. They used to be married to men – most have had children with them, but something in them finally snapped, and they decided to start playing for the other team.

And I totally get it. Guys: you get so disgusting as you get older. Maybe it’s because your mothers are now too old, or even deceased, and us women are too tired to tell you one more goddam time to pick up your shit off the floor, but you. Still. Do. It. Every day. Do you really need to be reminded every single day? Your boxers on the floor. Your stinky socks and shoes all over the house. Your sandwich makings all over the counter. Your crap. Everywhere. It’s like you are a dog marking territory. Women don’t do this. Everything gets put back away. And we smell like roses. All the time. You all seem to have forgotten that a nice clean man = horizontal play time. Oh, and putting your crap away = horizontal play time + blow jobs and possible ass play – if you’ve poured enough wine.

Women who have tossed out their men, and decided to shack up with a female partner are my inspiration. They have someone wonderful to talk to, a clean house, and don’t have to explain those weird house scents to visitors (girls, you know which ones I mean – those “man smells”). Female partners in the same house have fridges with wonderful foods, such as hummus, wine (tons of wine), cheese, fruit, and olive oil. They also have towels that smell of lavender, no hair in the tub, and no fear of anyone using their cherished tweezers on anything but their eyebrows. Trust me: you just can’t un-see that image of your man leaning over the toilet, scraping out the underside of his toenails with your BrowGal. Speaking of toilets: The coup de gras……..cohabitating carpetlickers do not have to deal with the toilet seat, piss on the floor, or unflushed toilets.

Aaaaaah……I heard choirs of angels singing when I thought of that…..no more toilet issues. I think the mid-life-crisis-sexual-preference changers might be on to something with just that issue alone. They might not be having sex with each other (pity), but at least they are in their own special spa oasis of their own design (can I get a whoop whoop for no more leather recliners, 75 inch plasma screens, and foosball tables gals?).

Seriously, men are just overgrown little boys who like to play with snakes and fart, while women are prettier versions of little girls with the skills and knowledge to color-coordinate and run the world while making a port wine reduction sauce and coaching her teen daughter on partial differential equations.

Men: Can’t live with ‘em, and who wants to anyway? I hate men.

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Posted by on September 21, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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What did you get her?

The setting is this.

Starbucks. Morning. Saturday. Insomnia. Coffee. Mmmmm. Few people. Guy on phone. Talking too loud. I am sitting too close. GO.

Here is what I have figured out so far.

He is talking to someone on the phone. Has to be a woman and based on a comment about “When we were kids.” I am guessing its his sister.

He is divorced. Its a Saturday, he is alone and not working on a “Honey-do” list. Also, there is no wedding ring, but perhaps a dent in his ring finger from a ring in the past.

Plus there is that single guy confusion rather than that married guy “certainty of being just plain fucked” aura to him.

And it seems that he has run into an impasse with a woman he is dating.

Evidently, he screwed things up last night and has called his sister to get her perspective on his mistakes.

He has yet to sleep with said woman he is dating yet.

But, they have discussed it.

She has mentioned being good at blowjobs. (Odds are she never said this. She said something that he interpreted as concerning blowjobs.)

He, surprise surprise here, likes a good bj. (You and every other swinging dick out there, buddy.)

Don’t start groaning yet, we all know its coming, but don’t get ahead of the story.

So, he got her a rather expensive jacket, and gave it to her a few days before Christmas.

So, deer in the headlights, no gift to give him back, she indicated that she hadn’t gotten him anything yet.

So he suggested a blowjob.

The stupid peeps out there are wondering what is wrong with this.

There are a number of ways to take this, and none of them are good.

The nicest way I can think of is that he gave her dick for Christmas, wrapped in a jacket.

And you want to save the paper on that one.

The worst way is that he called her an old school whore.

I have yet to make this particular mistake, not sure how I missed that.

I never intend to make mistakes, but I have a problem with running my mouth.

And, if you ramble long enough, just about anything is capable of coming out of your mouth.

I have been dealing with this for so long, that when everything goes wrong, I tend to just laugh.

And that never helps.

Nothing takes a pissed off woman and shoves her rage thru the freaking rafters than laughing when she’s pissed.

But this guy has an innocent stupidity to him that is almost endearing.

I mean, he’s giving away dick for Christmas, and she is at the head of the line.

She should feel good that he holds her in such high esteem.

And she could be at the front of that line or the back. Count your blessings.

Seems like a win-win, right?

All of a sudden he and I both being divorced makes a lot of sense, doesn’t it?

Remember, always save the paper, no matter what its wrapped around.

 
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Posted by on January 2, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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