I don’t know man, fuck is on your biscuit?

When I was a kid, I was always sticking up for the underdog.  I don’t know why, that was just my deal.  I’ve always been outspoken and, as “the pastor’s daughter” at a small private school, I had influence. People just didn’t mess with me. Or if they did, my ADD caused me to be too spacey to notice the mockers, so their bullshit was wasted on my dumb ass.  I was often totally checked out, daydreaming…staring into space.  And since my parents treated me like a normal kid, I didn’t quite develop all the bullshit baggage that pastor’s kids are known for.  So, whenever someone was getting picked on by others, I’d get all up in the bully’s shit. I learned early that it doesn’t take much for me to get people to do what I want. Privilege aside, that was just my reality, and I was aware of it.

Today, I want to explain some aspects of bullying. Because what I learned was that bullies BRING OUT the bully in me.  And in all honesty, I don’t LIKE how that feels. I don’t like BECOMING the bully. It feels shitty to me. And once I’m in the mode, I want to DEFEAT the bully. And I’ll stop at nothing to defeat. I become what I hate.  Isn’t that how bullies are developed in the first place?

In everyday life, I don’t find myself encountering bullies in person very often.  I think there have been three or four people in the past ten years of my life where I remember thinking “this person is a bully, and they are making me want to bully”, so I very intentionally separated myself from them. Otherwise I’d just sink to their level. I’d make sure that I could do what I could to help the underdog but, at the end of the day, those people will always be bullies. I can’t change that. Especially by treating them in a way that probably turned them into that in the first place. I’m sure they were bullied as kids or whatever, by their parents or someone else, and they have this chip on their shoulder. I can’t fix that chip. I have some empathy, but I also have sought out counseling to help me change the parts of me that are hurtful to myself and others. If you aren’t doing that…. now is the time to man the fuck up.

Every once in a while…. I am made to feel like shit by a man.  It doesn’t happen to me as often as it might happen to other women… I often don’t give a shit about what people think anyway, and I surround myself by good men.  And don’t get me wrong—women can be extremely hurtful to one another. So I’m not trying to be a man-hating femi-nazi here.  But when it happens—when a man says something that leaves me feeling like trash simply because I have a beautiful ‘gine—I get Really. Fucking. Pissed.

Today I am done. I am fed up with people with penises who think that women live and breathe for men.  I am so over that.  I have learned that there is a certain population of men who literally think this. They think when I get dressed and do my hair and my makeup and put on cute clothes, that I am doing it to get THEIR attention.  The fucking audacity of this is mind-blowing to me.  I cannot imagine walking around this earth presuming that people are acting in such a way to get my attention—simply because I am a penis-bearing human. (If that were the case, which it is not. Mama has the lovely labias).

I was recently reminded of how fucking mental this makes me— a really cute picture was taken of a beautiful girl and posted on Facebook. There was nothing weird or inappropriate about the picture, she just happened to look crazy fucking hot, as per the usual.  And it inspired a couple of male friends to say something about it. And it wasn’t “hey girl, you look great, have fun, you’re awesome.”  The comments were more along the lines of “why are you dressed like that?” and how she clearly wants attention so why can’t they say whatever they want about it…. Bla bla bla. It saddens me that this even happens.  A girl is left feeling so diminished by the comments about her looks, that she decides it may be better to hide. To not show her beauty. To not shine…

I am infuriated. I apparently have friends that are bullies.  And I CAN’T FUCKING STAND THIS.

I am here today, friends, colleagues… to offer up some wisdom for you. And YES it is wisdom so listen real close. Because after this, bullies get deleted from my life.

She dressed that way because I asked her to. BECAUSE SHE LOOKED AMAZING in that outfit. So she did. She wore the outfit I liked. Now, ultimately I don’t really care what she wears.  But she had a few options of clothes that fit her style, and I told her which one I liked the best.  Lesson you should take away from this: NOBODY CARES WHAT YOU THINK. That night was all about us. Not you.

The second thing goes a little deeper for me.  The idea that you can say whatever the fuck you want because someone, in your mind, is INVITING it.  And this, ladies and gents, is part of the root philosophy of what has become known as “rape culture”.  There is an inherent disrespect for women at the core of this way of thinking.  Because, at the end of the day, if someone is “asking you” to treat them poorly… with less value than they really actually have as a person… so you’re going to do that shit???  And in this particular circumstance, how is looking nice for a night out with your girlfriends perceived as being asked to be treated poorly again?

What if we went ahead and reversed things.  I mean… a moderately chubby guy who goes out dressed “nerdy”, wearing Airwalks from Wal-Mart or some shit like that MUST be just ASKING to get rude and degrading comments, right? Otherwise he’d obviously work out, eat well, and get a fashion consultant.  At MINIMUM…. Shop at Target.  He clearly wants to be treated like shit. Duh…  It’s like this guy in a wheelchair who vandalized a church for loving gay people. IT DOESN’T MAKE ANY FUCKING SENSE.

So I will leave you with this:

  1. I’m sorry someone treated you poorly or disrespected you in life, inspiring you to do the same to others. That sucks for you and it sucks for the people around you.
  2. Deal with your shit, and start being a better person.
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Gunning, and other useful prison terms.

Not too long ago Relevant Magazine published an article called “Is Masturbation Sin?”  by Jesse Eubanks. My first thought was, “your face is a sin.” But then my second thought, the more mature one (which is always second or possibly third in the lineup), was “maybe I should read this bullshit.” So I did.  And so did Sugardaddy, who had some interesting insights. (Thank you, my sexy little homersexual).  We will share these with you here.  The article is from a man’s point of view. He didn’t seem to elicit the perspectives of a woman when espousing his ideas, so I will do that for him here. I’m not going to be one of those people who stands around and complains that someone else didn’t do something helpful. No one likes those people.

The main issue Sugardaddy took with the article was that “disconnectedness” was being blamed on stroking the salami.  And as a man and woman who have been married for ten years and have experienced the gamut of “marital issues”, we can attest with the strength of a thousand suns that arm wrestling the one-armed champ is NOT the culprit for disconnection between us. Not even close.  I can expand on that at a later, more drunken, date.  And then on top of that, a female’s perspective on masturbation was no where to be found.  Here women are still struggling after FOREVER to understand their bodies, their sexuality, their needs and desires… much of this achieved through the exploration that is masturbation, and this goes straight up ignored during his belittling of the act.  That and– Sugardaddy just likes to watch me masturbate, so Eubanks can just go suck a cock.  With that being said…

In prison, masturbation goes by the term “gunning”. Therefore, in order to accurately relate to you as the prison bitch that you are, I will henceforth refer to it as gunning for the remainder of our time together here on this blog. Maybe by reading it, the chances of your gunning session being interrupted by a large greasy 55 year old white biker inserting his super-nast rod in your brown star… will increase.

What I don’t think people understand is that… gunning is one of the keys to world peace.  If everyone would just take a moment and partake in a little anal play while applying a vibrator to sensitive areas, mass conflicts would be resolved!  Babies would be reunited with mothers, mothers would stop getting acid thrown on their faces, chemical weaponry would cease to be used against your friend and neighbor.  It’s when dictators or mothers begin using butter or the blood of Jews as lube that we need to stop and say to ourselves “maybe something is wrong here.”

45387908714429798_7DvJ8hS6_fIn the article Eubanks states, “When we attempt to find fulfillment outside of God’s design, we may find temporary enjoyment, but ultimately it leads to pain, disconnection and death. It’s like donuts. They are delicious and when I eat them, a smile emerges from ear to ear. But they do not bring a lasting fulfillment and when my life is littered with donuts, it ultimately leads to pain, disconnection, death and husky jeans.” What I can gather from this is that 1) Eubanks has never actually gunned (or maybe he did it wrong?); and 2) is under the (false) impression that he can do a better job of flicking the bean than a woman can. Does he even know what a bean is, when I use that term? Tell us Eubanks, are you a master of the clitoris, so much so that you and your crusty donut must be the only one who touches it, and no one else?! PPBBFFFFTT! Holy shit, that’s funny to me.

He goes on to ask, “How can a spouse in the real world ever compete with the on-demand response of our fantasies that masturbation encourages? …In real life, people don’t want to have sex at the drop of a hat all of the time. People have emotional and spiritual needs that often must be met before they are ready for physical intimacy. There are no issues of love and forgiveness and struggle in the world of fantasy. There is no deep connection.”  I don’t know, maybe he never gets turned down by his wife. Let me tell you when Sugardaddy gets rejected: when the baby is crying, when I haven’t slept in days because the baby won’t sleep, when the 4 year-old won’t stay in her bed, when I have morning mouth, when I’m bleeding heavily, when I’m on a business trip, when I’m bloated, when either of us is sick sick, when one of our kids is in the hospital for months on end, when we’re stressed…. oh wait that’s potentially a lot.  Far be it for me to deny him a little cum in the bucket when I just don’t feel like giving it up.  And I’ll be damned if I’m seen as some sex slave who has to pleasure my man every time he gets a little wood. Which is a lot. Fuck that shit. If he wants to lead Pedro down the road of bulimia, he has my blessing.

Cracka rap needs more ass.

The Food & Wine Hedonist recently asked me to write a music piece for his blog.  GO READ THAT SHIT. It’s about the white parent raps that go viral and annoy the shit out of everyone. BOOM!

CLICK HERE for some food and wine hedonism, sprinkled with commentary from yours truly about how people should eat shit.

I’m adding North Korea to my list of White People Problems.

“Sometimes we laughed. We didn’t know when to laugh or not.”
-Shin Dong-huyk

It’s been my view for quite some time now that utilizing free market economics is the best way for nation states to achieve political gains as it relates to liberty and equality.  So I don’t really get down with the U.S. when it places economic sanctions on another country because they’re not doing what we want, even if it’s with good intentions.  When you stop trading goods with a country for any reason, the top officials you’re trying to send a message to still get their shit. Those assholes at the top, making decisions and being dick-squeezes? They still get food and whatever the fuck they want. They just don’t get it from you.  It’s the average Joe who gets hurt.  They’re the ones who no longer have access to whatever we were trading with them.  It just adds to the hardship they were already experiencing from whatever tyrannical political leadership that rules their lives.

I recently read an article about the executives at Google going into North Korea to “discuss the free and open internet.”  And, while I agree with their leadership that North Korea’s economic growth will continually be stunted by their lack of internet access, I couldn’t help but thing, “What a bunch of naive assholes.”

With that being said, let me tell you who can suck my dick as it relates to North Korea. Anyone who turns a blind or ignorant eye to the reality of suffering, that’s who. And you know what?  Same goes for turning a blind eye to the reality of pain in the lives of anyone around you, or in any other neighborhood, city, state, country, or people group. Shit just isn’t as simple as you’d like it to be. You can’t just reason it away in order to make yourself feel better. It’s a fucking mess. The problems are complicated, and the solutions even more complex.

In the documentary Camp 14: Total Control Zone, Shin Dong-huyk was born in a forced labor camp in North Korea. He was one of 160,000 forced laborers in North Korea.  His first memory was that of a public execution.  All the prisoners were forced to watch the public executions. He was about 4 or 5, when he saw this. What are people executed for in North Korea? Not “working hard”. Being “disobedient”.  His first feeling he remembers was that of panic, at this particular public execution.  He is the only person ever to be born in a North Korean forced labor camp to escape to the West.

He had a little friend when he was 6 years old. She had hidden a few grains of wheat in her pocket. They were always starving.  Everyone in the labor camp.  The school teacher decided this warranted beating the young girl from 8 a.m. to 2 p.m.  I’m sorry, but can I just stop and say right now and ask you, “Does that seem real… when you read that???”  I want you to fight the desensitization to the fact that this shit is happening AS YOU READ this stupid blog.  That young girl finally fell unconscious to the floor. Her little friends carried her home. She was dead the next day from an infection in her head wounds.  I think of my 4-year-old, who is constantly collecting little things off the ground outside to bring to me. Rocks. Leaves. Flowers.  The contrast of the two girls’ lives is stark in my mind.

In the camps, families are not allowed to be together. Every human is treated as less than an animal. Less than a worm. You have no rights. You don’t have a right to eat, sleep, move, date, make friends.  All of these decisions are made for you. Your diet consists of maize and cabbage soup. If you are ever lucky enough to taste meat, it is that of a rat that you catch yourself (in your house).

Women will submit to sex with the guards, with the hope that life will be easier if a guard likes them. Hoping a child with a guard will keep them alive, they will try to get pregnant.  Instead, these women are killed.  Shin’s father received Shin’s mother as a wife, as a reward for good labor.  People are used as currency.  Trafficked.

The only societal value you are taught is that of suspicion toward everyone around you.  Everyone watches each other, spies on each other, in the event that you are disobedient. Then you are publicly criticized. Beatings are the norm. There is no sense of loyalty to another person. There is no compulsion of love. You are not compelled to protect one another. You are so hungry, all your mind tells you to do is to act in such a way that maybe you will survive better. Eat something. Shin was 14 years old, laying on a prison floor, deformed and burned from fire torture, before he felt what human affection and emotional support feels like from another. An old man who tended his wounds, and told him “You must survive.”  He returned to the labor camp to watch his mother’s and brother’s public execution, which was Shin’s fault. He had reported them for hatching an escape plan from the labor camp.  He felt nothing as he watched them die. The concept of family was completely foreign to him. He felt anger toward his mother, blaming her for the torture he had experienced in the prison after he had reported them.  He didn’t cry as he watched her die.  He hadn’t learned that you’re supposed to cry when your mother is executed.

Eventually, Shin escaped the camp with the sheer purpose of getting his hands on some meat. He had been told about this meat called “chicken” from China.  He wanted to try this meat. He didn’t care about freedom– the concept was foreign to him. But he had been told about food by a man in the labor camp who hadn’t been born there. He wanted to taste the food.   He attempted escape with this fellow prisoner who had told him about the chicken.  That man died on the electric fence surrounding the camp.  The weight of his body made a hole in the fence large enough to allow Shin to crawl over his back, and out through the fence.

Which leads me to wonder… whose backs are being offered to us, so that we can fulfill our purpose in life, become who we are meant to be, tell the story we are meant to tell??  We are not alone, friends. We cannot live alone. We are social beings, which Shin himself confesses he had never known or understood until he landed on the floor of the camp prison after being tortured with fire, as the old man cleaned his burn wounds. Whose wounds are you cleaning? In your prison? Who are you tending to in their pain, to show them what they are truly worth?

Shin Dong-huyk maintains that, in all his meetings with political figures and NGOs, he has yet to find a clear answer on how to address the terrible reality that resides within North Korea, his home.

When asked what he misses about North Korea, Donghuyk says “I miss my innocent heart.”

Pimpin’ ain’t dead cuz I be the lifeline.

Well it looks like someone found this blog by googling “Troi getting fucked”. I’m glad you all are paying attention to the blatant sexuality within Star Trek: Next Generation that I find just downright offensive.

You know, I had thought about writing something prior to the election, but I really just didn’t have the time for you sexy crackas. But now… now I do. And the amount of bullshit being spewed in your direction by the media has likely been cut in half which, like your vagina, leaves a nice wide margin for MY bullshit. You’re welcome, little grasshoppers.

It strikes me as funny that we as Americans are so keenly aware of our consumer culture, full with disgust by the Christmas shopping tramplings for $3 coffee makers and tickle-me-elmos, yet have a striking lack of self-awareness when it comes to our consumerism when it comes to politics. We’re the SAME MUTHAFUCKAS, people! The average person who falls for the marketing gimmick on Monday is the same person who votes on Tuesday. And we fall for the same bullshit. Like “Republicans hate women” and “Democrats hate babies”. Now, at the end of the day, it’s clear that certain political parties don’t seem to understand real economics, or actual structural racism (or solutions thereto, respectively), but this isn’t exactly what I’m talking about.

It’s clear to me that American political figures (and more so Presidential figures) act as the face of a brand. Each political party is trying to sell you something. It’s similar to the Bud Light commercial showing you a hot girl in a bikini drinking low-calorie beer. If you drink our beer, you will look like her, feel like her, have what she has. And we all know that’s a bunch of bullshit. But we still behave as though it’s true. So these political figures tell us some bullshit about what they will help us become as a nation. How we will be, what we will feel. Are you picking up what I’m laying down? They make you believe that they will make you richer, that the other will make you poorer, that they respect you, that the other wants to control you or love you and leave you.  That they will fix your family and strengthen all families for generations to come, while the other hates you and wants to destroy your freedom to love.

There are seeds of truth in all lies. That’s why they are so goddamn convincing.  I would like to challenge you to be smarter than this. Have some goddamn self-awareness.  Now that the election is over, maybe you will hear me… American politics is a marketing game just like any other.  Can you see through it?

There seems to be a fear of non-“Christian” elements coming into positions of power and influence in our country. As though the “Christian” elements have been so amazingly positive.  May I, for an instant, question this root assumption? We’ve got a fucking hot new senator from Hawaii that is Hindu, and a sweet mature honey from Hawaii that just won the senate seat, being the first Buddhist U.S. Senator.  That’s hot.  “I certainly believe in the precepts of Buddhism and that of tolerance of other religions and integrity and honesty,” she said when she first joined Congress (Huff Post Religion).  Wait wait wait…  Isn’t this what America was founded on??? Freedom of Religion??? Freedom from the European stronghold on what we believe and how we live that out??? God Bless America. Now we have strong, faithful Americans leading us… “us”… The diverse and varied people groups that stand on a thousand different traditions that fortify our identities and sense of self and family and community… ready and willing to dream and build a strong country that is built from the grassroots up. It spans the political and ethnic/racial spectrum. Please, be willing to look across the political and ethnic/racial aisles in America, and see someone who wants something as simple and pure as you do, and is willing to do their small part.

I am a Christian. I am a political moderate. I am a cynic. I am a feminist. I hate abortion. I am a rebel. I am an economist that understands the black market. And I am a marketer. Which means I understand the game, and I’m willing to play it. But my idea of winning may not be something that makes you very comfortable. And I don’t expect you to pander to my ideas so that we can be friends. That would be expecting bullshit, correct?

Don’t poop on me: A Universal rule in sex and other life scenarios.

Tonight I get home from running an errand for a friend, and Sugardaddy’s watching Star Trek: Next Generation. Again. Guess who’s NOT getting laid tonight. This bitch.

But let me break this scene down for you.  The episode involves Deanna Troi (the notorious “hot” chick on the Starship Enterprise’s crew) and her mother, who are of an alien species that can sense other’s thoughts and feelings and, I don’t know, have a lot of sex and go to weddings naked, and other stupid geek porn fantasies like that. Now, if you’ve ever watched this show, you’ll know that Deanna Troi’s mom is a serious fucking slut. She’ll reappear every now and again and try to get a VIP pass to party with Captain Picard’s trouser snake. Cap’n ain’t havin’ any of that shriveled slut’s diseased shit. (He’s classy like that… all French with a British accent and shit).  So a good portion of this particular episode involves watching old-mom-slut try to fuck like three different dudes on the starship.

Then …THEN…, Sugardaddy turns to me and says “You know what I like about the Fresh Beat Band*? That dark-haired chick? She kinda resembles Deanna Troy. Yeeeeeeah.”

Fuck my life.

And this is where I’d like to point out that some shit just shouldn’t happen.

There is a point, ladies and gentlemen, with many MANY things in life, where we as a society surpass the limits at which we need to FUCKING STOP. I’m talking about sex, I’m talking about politics, I’m talking about the small window I get into the imagery that may or may not go through my nerdy husband’s head as he makes marital relations to yours truly. And you know, it makes the throw-up come up into my mouth. It really does.

May I advise you of some things? All ya’ll dudes out there who watch porn and think that you are now pornstars and can do weird porn shit? Please read THIS link.  Now, I am going to blow up your brains at a later date with information on how to please your woman. But that right there needs to be mass distributed.

Now. My people. My fellow Americans. Democrats, Republicans, Moderates, “Independents” (whatever the fuck that means), Libertarians, Socialists and Fascists… lend me your ears, little lambs. Shhhhhhhhhh gather ’round. Are you listening? Please stop being so fucking stupid. I’m serious, just stop.

Let me tell you about a little thing called “mutual masturbation.” Can you say those words? Muuuuutual. Maaastuuurbaaation. This is when two or more people do or say things that make themselves and/or the other feel good, affirmed, validated, excited, ecstatic, hot, turned on… the list goes on. The point I need to make about mutual masturbation, and why it’s relevant here, is that it’s NOT REAL. Nothing is being PENETRATED. It is not real intercourse. It is not real fucking. There’s no. mutherfuckin. penetration, people. And this is where things can get a little… off course. Because it is at this exact point that leads me to ask: “What exactly is getting you off right now?” Because if you just think and talk about hopeful shit that sounds like the magical fucking land of Oz and spank yourself until you cum in your own hand, that don’t mean shit to anyone but you. And if it’s the actual act of pooping on someone that is hot to you, you need to fucking get therapy, or get the fuck out!

So when you’re watching the political conventions, Fox News, CNN, or listening to NPR, watching Meet the [fucking] Press on Sunday mornings, or reading something from Focus on the [fucking] Family, may I suggest that what you really like about it is not actually real? It’s someone telling you something that makes you feel good, logical, or right in your convictions, and it has just enough reality tied to it that it makes you believe it’s the real shit. But it’s not. It’s not the real shit. Like when you tell me you aren’t racist, sexist, classist, elitist on SOME level deep down, intentional or unintentional. Go fuck yourself. Because if you haven’t come to terms with the fact that life is complicated, messy, lacking easy answers and solutions, then I’m not totally convinced you’ve really experienced people. People who are in your life, your community, your planet. Those people? They want to climax too, asshole. They want to feel their bodies exploding in ecstasy, just like the next guy. Because at the end of the day, if you’re not doing something real, participating in something real, if you’re NOT penetrating something, you’re just masturbating. And the only person getting off is you.

*For all of you childless readers, Fresh Beat Band is a children’s show on Nick Jr. that makes me want to kill myself.

Even Albinos have lubrication needs.

I decided I needed to go to Planned Parenthood to get different birth control.

The reason being, my old birth control had left me with spotting- random bleeding because God hates me. On three separate occasions I have left a fucking crime scene after a slutty yet fulfilling hook up. The first time I left a decent sized blood pool on the bed (my bad), the second time there was a smaller blood pool, and the last time there was a fucking abortion of blood everywhere. Whoops. Funny thing is, only the last time was because of the birth control. The first two times it was because it was right before I was supposed to get my period and that little “jabbing” was all I needed to open the flood gates. Should I write these guys thank you notes for the timely piercing of my cervix?

This particular Planned Parenthood is located in the “bad” part of town (“bad” because there are poor people there, and nobody likes poor people) on the corner of a very small strip mall. I had been there once before a few days prior without incident, but today was different. The windows are still all covered up so as to deter any neighoborhood poor people or republicans from looking inside to glare judgingly at the ladies patiently waiting for their routine womb cleansing.  How are we supposed to abort the deaf kids named Hunter that are causing conflicts with gun control policies in pre-schools… if we can’t safely get an abortion?

However, as I walked up on this particular day, the door swings open and I am standing face to face with a large and manly female “security guard”. That’s new. Taken by surprise I step back and consider running the fuck outta there but I’m paralyzed by her butch haircut. She finally breaks up the awkward eye-fuck fest and asks me for identification before letting me in through the door.

ME: “Is everything okay? I was here last week and I don’t remember there being a ‘security guard’ (inside giggle) here asking for i.d.”

BUTCH: “Oh, yeah everything’s fine. This is just something we do to make sure it stays that way. We started doing this about a month ago.”

Now that is bullshit because I think I would remember seeing a rent-a-cop guarding the door as under aged penis cushions walk out with their little brown baggies of birth control and condoms, hanging their heads in shame while assholes wave signs in their faces saying “God hates your vagina! What is a vagina, anyways? B-T-Dubs, can I see your vagina? No seriously, I really want to get laid tonight. Don’t worry, we can abort the unwanted child with the VIP program where you can sneak in the back of the clinic for an extra $400, so we can wrecklessly screw while also maintaining our Pro-Life values.”  Anyway, I decide not to pick a fight with Butch McButch-a-lot today as there are pressing matters at hand. I need to be able to get my fuck on without the fear of babies growing in my mother-hole. I sit down and wait to be called.

MEANWHILE, another bitch is walking up to the door and Butch jumps to her feet to greet this bitch with “can I see some i.d.?” like we’re in some exclusive high class lounge-VIPs only. Well, holy shit.  I should have trusted Butch’s butch instincts. This ain’t no ordinary bitch. This an ALBINO bitch. Wearing grey sweat pants with elastic on the ankles and the legs pushed up cinching her “cegs” (calf legs, where does one end and the other begin? No one knows). Her long flowing white hair pulled up into a rat’s nest of a pony and I’m pretty sure there was an acid wash jean jacket in there somewhere. Planned Parenthood etiquette dictates you do not stare at your fellow jump down/jumpdick, so I cannot recall many of the important details of her physical appearance. For instance, I do not know if she was a true albino (or would it be the feminine “albina”?) with reddish purple eyes. But I digress. The point is, the crazy bitch would NOT stop talking about lube!

She starts asking the receptionist about the security guard and the i.d. requirements, like “when did you start doing this” and “I don’t remember having to do this before”. Basically the same shit I was thinking but kept to myself because I’m not albino and I fucking know better. The receptionist is answering her questions like “we’ve always done this” and “no, we haven’t changed our procedures” et al. But Albina can’t let that shit go and keeps questioning the receptionist like “are you sure?” and accuses her of neo-fascist associations (who knew albinos know about neo-fascism, but whatev). Now, as this whole circle jerk of bullshit is going on in front of me I am sitting there with my eyes down (never make eye contact with albinos, this is just fact) trying hard not to take pictures, laugh until I pee my pants and/or beat the everliving shit out of some bitches. Then… the conversation takes a turn for the worse.

The Albina wants lube with her complimentary bag of condoms. Not just lube, EXTRA lube. But alas, the receptionist explains they are no longer receiving free shipments of lube, therefore they are no longer available as freebies. Oh. Shit. Albina is not having that. How dare we expect her to BUY lube. “Can you contact them and see if they will send another shipment? Or maybe see if another company will send some?” …Albina helpfully suggests. I am fucking speechless. Bitch is asking receptionist to ask various companies for free shipments of lube so she doesn’t have to pay the $5-6 for some lube. But wait, there’s more. Then she goes on and on about her lube preferences. She likes the jelly kind cause it’s not as messy, she likes warming lube because it makes her clit melt, etc. etc… Mind you this whole exchange is being played out in front of a waiting room of at least 5 other people, not a private exam room. It is clear she is quite disheartened about the lack of lube in her gift bag but, when the receptionist tells her there are still condoms in the bag, Albina wants to know if they are the female kind.

Receptionist: “Umm, no… just the regular kind.”

Albina: “Oh.”

This post was inspired by the true stories from four different sources. Thank you for your vulnerability and sacrifice as I serve to educate Amerrrrrica.