Thursday, December 14, 2006

A Christmas Gift.

Top 10 men not to date...

(Please take note: While you clearly want to avoid a serious relationship with any of the below it is, of course, totally acceptable to sleep with them.)

1. The College Freshman. In theory this sounds great. He's young and horny, always up for sex. And since it’s his first time away from home and he is lonely for affection, he even spoons you afterwards. But then comes morning, along with reality, and you begin to notice things. Things like the skidmarks in his Sponge Bob boxer shorts. And before you know it, you are in his dorm room on a Friday night with him and his friends making a gravity bong out of a bucket and a Mountain Dew bottle, snorting Pixie Stix, and downing shots of Jager and Red Bull (which, of course, you had to buy since he is underage).

2. The Crazy Guy. I don't like surprises. Or competition. I like to know that I'm the craziest one in the relationship. Check his medicine cabinet, if he is on more than one kind of mood elevator--steal his drugs and then chuck him.

3. The Waiter "Slash". Everyone in this fucking town is a Waiter/Actor/Model/Musician...Hey, I just took a shit on a piece of stretched canvas, does that make me an "Artist" now? Date guys with realistic aspirations. Aspiring to be promoted from jizz mopper to peep-booth operator, now that's realistic.

4. The Foreigner. Sure, he owns his own restaurant, wears real gold jewelry and cooks the best Prawn Curry and Poori you have ever tasted. But, once you find out he has 9 kids and 6 wives back home in Abba Dabba to support, suddenly, its not so romantic.

5. The "Hot" Guy. I don't mean a 'metrosexual.' Metrosexual's are not straight men--they are closet cases in transit to gayville. I mean a guy who is all around better looking than you are. This is never a good thing. You should always date someone at least slightly less attractive than yourself. Why, you ask? Because it guarantees that you are always the center of attention/jealousy and you always want to leave yourself with the option to upgrade while making sure the guy has no place to go but down. Plus, ugly guys try harder to please you in bed. That is a fact.

6. The Guy at the Gym. He's gay. Move on. Only gay men care that much about what their asses look like. No straight man would spend 30 minutes a day on the Stairmaster perfecting his glute’s. Straight men only care about what our asses look like. Seriously, he's gay. Move on, or take him shopping.

7. The Religious Guy. Especially the Christians. Just avoid these guys in general. Unless you really like anal sex. I say that because, of course, it doesn't really count as 'sex' unless there is vaginal penetration, so, technically its not a sin.

8. Poet Guy. Poetry is for gays. And women. No straight man should recite poetry. Ever. Guys were made to be tough. If some drunken asshole spills his drink on you in a club your man should instinctively turn around and punch the motherfucker in the throat. He should not politely ask the motherfucker to please be careful and then quote T.S. Eliot.

9. Overly-sensitive Guy. Yes, I know he could fall into the “Poet Guy” category, but then I wouldn't have 10 types of guys, I'd only have 9, and you can't have a 'Top 9 List,' it just doesn't make any sense....Anyway. While it’s nice to have a guy who is in touch with his feelings, there is a line to be drawn. For example, if you tell your guy you have the worst PMS cramps and he replies: "Oh, my God! Me too! I could just feel your pain! We are so in sync!" Dump him immediately. This is the same guy that will cry at chick flicks and make you kill the spider because it’s too scary for him. Coincidentally enough, these are often the same guys that turn out to be gay. Or Christian. Or both.

10. Kevin Federline. Do I really need to explain it?

(*Gag* I actually had to Google "Sexy Kevin Federline Pictures" —the above is all they came up with.)

Monday, November 20, 2006

Dear PETA...

Dear PETA,

I am writing you let you know that I am doing my part to protect the turkeys this Thanksgiving.

I went to my local gro'cho store and adopted a turkey named Perdue. I think she is French, but I'm not sure. Anyway, while I was there I decided to adopt a few lobsters too.

I know lobsters aren't very 'Thanksgiving-y', but they have rights too! You should really consider a "Save the Lobsters" campagin, you know? I mean, yeah, lobsters aren't very cute and cuddley, but they are people too and just because they look different doesn't mean they don't count. Something to think about.

But I digress.

When I got Perdue home I noticed she was looking a little pale, so I stuck her in the oven, which is really just a 'tanning salon' for turkeys.

She spent 4 hours in the 'salon' at 325 degrees. It worked. When she was done with her session, she had a nice golden tan.

Also, my lobsters smelled a little fishy. I tell you, it is really a crime how they treat the animals in the gro'cho store--pale turkeys and smelly lobsters? You should really do something about that too, protest or something.

Anyway, I prepared a hot bath for the lobsters and scrubed them clean. Boy, did they hate that! They were screaming the entire time, it reminded me of a little kid throwing a tantrum when its 'bath time.'

As you can see, both the turkey and the lobsters are looking much healthier since I have adopted them.

The only thing is, they aren't very responsive, they just sort of sit there. I don't think they make very good pets. I am considering letting the pack of wild Indians next door adopt them.

They look like a friendly bunch, don't they? I think it would really make their celebration of Thanksgiving special.


A. Beaverhausen

Monday, November 13, 2006

I'm Sick. Fuck!

I don’t do sick well. Being a true Leo, I hate getting sick and being out of ‘commission’ (hehe).

I hardly ever get sick and rarely go to the Doctor’s when I am. I grew up with parent’s who believed you could cure anything with vitamin E, honey and apple cider vinegar.

Like the time I got a rusty dart (and didn’t have a current tetanus shot) stuck in the top of my foot and my vein was gushing blood and I said “I really think I need to go to Hospital.” My parents replied “Oh, its nothing. Here, just put some vitamin E on it and it will be fine.”

They didn’t believe in Psychology either, they believed your ‘problems’ were all in your head…it’s amazing I turned out so well adjusted, really.

So I have been feeling really shitty all weekend and I was hoping it would go away, but it hasn’t. I finally coughed up a lung last night and decided, against my better judgement, to go to the Doctor.

“Ms. Beaverhausen, I believe you have walking pneumonia,” said the Doctor.

“As opposed to running pneumonia?” I asked.

“It’s not funny, its quite serious, it could turn into full-fledged pneumonia and you could end up in the Hospital,” he said.

“Oh, shit. That’s not good,” I said “Mind if I smoke? I’m just really stressed out right now.”

“There is no smoking in the Doctor’s office, Ms. Beaverhausen. And, considering your lungs are inflamed, I would highly suggest you quit.”

“Sure, I understand.” I began “Is it still ok to smoke weed?”

He didn’t seem amused. “Now, Ms. Beaverhausen, are you currently on any drugs?”

“Just the weed,” I replied.

“No, I mean medications,” he said very annoyed.

“Oh…yeah. Let’s see, Xanax, Prozac, Zoloft, a couple other mood elevators…”

“Let’s move on. Anyway, are you allergic to any drugs?”

I thought for a minute. “Well, I don’t think so. Although there was this one time, on ‘shrooms, I got really sick and puked for like four hours…”

“Again, Ms. Beaverhausen, prescribed medications.” He snapped.

“Oh. No. But, I really don’t like swallowing pills, gag reflex, you know? I’d prefer liquid. Oh, and flavored if you can. Bubblegum. Or strawberry.” I said.

“That’s not possible; you will have to settle for pills. Here you go,” he says and hands me a bunch of prescriptions. "Also, I would like for you to stay in the next few days and rest. Do you need a Doctor's note for class?"

"Yes, but actually, I have a test Friday so if you could date it for then..."

"I don't think so." He said

"Ok, well how about you just leave the dates blank and that way I can make copies and use them when I don't 'feel well,' know what I mean?" I said, winking at him.

"No, Ms. Beaverhasuen."

“Ok. Oh one more question, Doctor; can I still use heroin while on this medication?”

He shook his head and began to leave the exam room, “Goodbye, Ms. Beaverhausen.”

“Doctor?...Doctor?...,” I called out after him.

Well. That was very rude and unprofessional, I thought to myself.

So, now I am sitting here with my prescription Leavaquin, an inhaler, and a bag of Sweet Lady H and I don’t know what to do because my Doctor is a jerk.

I wonder if I can sue him for malpractice…

Wednesday, November 08, 2006

Oh, Balls!

Can I just say, I love balls.

I really do. I know its a little different, I mean, its not everyday you find a woman proclaiming her love for balls. Usually we love a nice dick, chest, ass, forearms, etc. I love all that too, but I really love balls.

See, what happened was, I was reading Ninj's tea-bag post and kept finding myself going back to check out the picture of the guy's balls. He has a nice little sack there.

It got me thinking about how much I love balls.

My perfect night in would be Ninj's ballsack and I lying in bed watching a Tim Burton movie and eating popcorn. Oh yeah--Ninj, you can come too, if you want, although I only really need your balls. (PS--I hope you have nice balls, otherwise...)

Anyway. I love balls. An I really love to play with them.
Men's balls have always reminded me of those stress balls. When you squeeze a guy's balls (much more gentle then you would squeeze a stress ball, of course) they do something similar to a stress ball. They take on different shapes and you can feel the testis inside moving around. I love that. Plus, playing with a scrotum gives me the same relaxing feeling a stress ball does. I love balls.

They also remind me of Chinese exercise balls. Although, you can't move the scrotum around quite as easily as the Chinese exercise balls, you can simulate. I love to hold a pair of balls in the palm of my hand and sort of juggle them back and forth. Juggling balls really clears my head. I love balls.

Another thing I liken to balls, is Newton's Cradle. This seems to work best with a pair of low hangers. I like to watch them bounce off of one another.

I love balls.

If I had a set of balls, I would play with them all the frigging time! (Fuck off Ninj, I said IF I HAD A SET...)

Monday, November 06, 2006

Redneck Wedding.

I attended a redneck wedding this past weekend. I guess the groom sells weed to my friend so he got an invite and asked me if I wanted to go. I said ok. I mean, it’s a redneck wedding, wouldn’t you go?!

First of all these two people should not be getting married and procreating. The bride is 6 months pregnant and I heard she actually shot her husband in the foot once during a quarrel.

The ceremony was held outside in their yard. It was fucking freezing. I overdressed. I wore a simple, clean black dress. But, when the wedding party is dressed in Wranglers and Lycra, a black dress is overdoing it.

I also didn’t fit in because I am not a redneck and I have all of my teeth. Although, I do eat my ice cream with a fork…but, I don’t know if that’s redneck or just good sense. I mean, ice cream just tastes so much better eaten off a fork, I don’t know why, but it does. Trust me.

Anyway, the newlyweds danced their first dance as Mr. and Mrs. Bubba Mann, III to the theme song from the movie “Deliverance.”

By that time the pig was roasted and we ate. Normally when I am at a public event I eat very little, you know to impress guys, but since there was no one at this wedding I wanted to fuck, I went back for seconds and thirds.

All they had to drink was Coors Light. I asked somebody’s cousin’s-mother's-uncle what I was supposed to do with my empties, and they told me “Eh, jus’ toss ‘em on in thare.”

A couple of beers later, I really had to pee. But the toilet was occupied.

I decide to hold it.

Suddenly, everyone was drunk. People were jumping into the swimming pool.

The Bride was doing Keg-stands.

And drunken Cousin Earl was showing me his newest tattoo.

I was just praying they’d hurry up and cut the Ring-Ding and Twinkie cake so I could get the hell out of there.

At the end of it the new couple got into their “limo” and we saw them off.

They were heading off for their Honeymoon Cruise.

Saturday, November 04, 2006


Everytime you masturbate God kills a kitten. Think about it.

Tuesday, October 31, 2006

Post Party Pictures!

Wow, what a great night!

The fags from the Lamplighter Gallery brought cupcakes, or "cockcakes" as they like to call them, for us all to enjoy. Wally refused to eat his because he didn't want to look 'gay.'

Cock Ninja brought an amazing ice sculpture for us all to do shots off of. (You know how he feels about snowmen.)

And Asshat brought, what else but, asshat party favors she made herself.

Ninj came dressed as his most favorite thing in the whole wide world, pussy.

Ferret was angry as hell because all the costume shop had left was this stupid looking bunny suit. It’s your own fault dude, I told you not to wait until the last minute to get a costume.

Wally came as Batman. Alek wanted to come as his ‘Robin,’ but Wally wanted no part in that.

So, Alek decided to come as a fairy. Big surprise, homo.

Guy-Pierre came dressed as Cher from her 1980s music video “If I Could Turn Back Time.”

I don’t know where those two faggots disappeared to mid-way through the party, but I later found one of my carved pumpkins looking like it was molested.

Stallion and Pinky. Pinky thought Stallion was “kidding” about how he got his nickname.

Tranny came dressed as beer, and when we ran out of said refreshment, he tried to drink himself.

Zanna claims she ‘dressed up,’ but I think she just came straight from work at the club.

Twzz hung up her teachers uniform for the night and came as a sexy officer of the law. Wally chased her around the entire time trying to get her to frisk him. Hey, Wally, for future reference: You can’t hide a boner when you are wearing a Lycra body suit, ok?

Apache came as bondage Barbie and, very resourcefully, found use for those toys her kids never play with anymore.

Jane drove all the way down from Canada to be with us for Halloween! And she made sure we heard about it all night.

She couldn’t find a last minute babysitter, so she had to bring her kid along. Yeah, ha ha guys, bring a little kid dressed as Hitler to the ‘Jews’ Halloween party, very funny.

Asshat worked out furiously before the party so she could show up looking like this. Just to get revenge on Ninj for making her blow him underneath the bleachers. As soon as she got her revenge she raided my refrigerator.

It worked, though. Ninj took one look at her, got a hard on, and...well…

Canuck showed up towards the end of the party and really ‘blew us away’ with her costume.

Thanks for making my Halloween special, guys!
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