I love my male friends.
They really know what matters in life.
TweekerChickQC: I've missed you lately hon!
TweekerChickQC: I thought you left me with someone with a small
head or social retardation or something.
NapalmMage: LOL Nah, things have just been heavy lately.
NapalmMage: There is one plus to having a chick with a small head
TweekerChickQC: What's that?
NapalmMage: My dick looked friggin HUGE in her mouth.
Saturday, October 23, 2004
Friday, October 22, 2004
Hooray!
A new Tucker Update. I live for this shit.
My favorite site, Lowbrow is back up, I will update my links soon enough.
Now, on to the goods.
I didn't write them.
Walter Sobchak from F.U.B.A.R. recently graced our boards with a guide on giving good oral.
He is a god among men.
"Licking is cheating. Don't get me wrong, though.... it's an essential part of closing the deal.
Most guys that lick pussy are just afraid to get "hands dirty". They like to spread the upper labia exposing the clit, and lick the poor fucker to death. The main problem with that is that you can over stimulate the girl. Not only does it illustrate a lack of interest and creativity, but it can become uncomfortable for the girl. Think of this as the nitrous button on a car in the movies... you have to get the RPM's up until it's the right time to hit the boost.
Eating pussy is what it's all about. Get your fucking face in there, man! Don't just lick the clit. Stick your tongue IN THE PUSSY. Repeat after me: IN-THE-PUSSY. Lick the alphabet, pretend your in a poorly dubbed kung-fu movie, speak Japanese, etc.. Listen to your girl's moans and pay attention. Learn to respond to her body, not your own.
When the tea kettle's going "ooooooohhhhhhhh".....
RED ALERT - RED ALERT - LICK THE CLIT - LICK THE CLIT.......
....and BAM : Karate Explosion"
And they say guys don't know what they're doing.
A new Tucker Update. I live for this shit.
My favorite site, Lowbrow is back up, I will update my links soon enough.
Now, on to the goods.
I didn't write them.
Walter Sobchak from F.U.B.A.R. recently graced our boards with a guide on giving good oral.
He is a god among men.
"Licking is cheating. Don't get me wrong, though.... it's an essential part of closing the deal.
Most guys that lick pussy are just afraid to get "hands dirty". They like to spread the upper labia exposing the clit, and lick the poor fucker to death. The main problem with that is that you can over stimulate the girl. Not only does it illustrate a lack of interest and creativity, but it can become uncomfortable for the girl. Think of this as the nitrous button on a car in the movies... you have to get the RPM's up until it's the right time to hit the boost.
Eating pussy is what it's all about. Get your fucking face in there, man! Don't just lick the clit. Stick your tongue IN THE PUSSY. Repeat after me: IN-THE-PUSSY. Lick the alphabet, pretend your in a poorly dubbed kung-fu movie, speak Japanese, etc.. Listen to your girl's moans and pay attention. Learn to respond to her body, not your own.
When the tea kettle's going "ooooooohhhhhhhh".....
RED ALERT - RED ALERT - LICK THE CLIT - LICK THE CLIT.......
....and BAM : Karate Explosion"
And they say guys don't know what they're doing.
Thursday, October 21, 2004
Wednesday, October 20, 2004
I know. I've been a bad bad blogger.
I was inspired to make a brief update by Chris, who is in fact, not dead. I've also heard from a very reliable source who shall remain nameless that he got more buff (I always thought he was anyway). But regardless, this is something I demand to see for myself! He owes me drunk time!
Also, Jon Stewart is my hero. He wins for the bowtie comment.
I started working out again, seeing as prednisone has made me gain more weight than Roseanne on an icecream bender, and I kind of want to die. And by "kind of want to die" I mean, I really want to die. Muscles hurt that I didn't even know I had. If I lift my arms, they might fall off. My thighs burn, and I may or may not have a cramp in my butt. I didn't even know that was possible.
Apparently this guy knew all about it.
On another note, I put in my two weeks at my job. One might ask why I would do that when I love my kids as much as I do.
The answer is simple my friends. I adore my kids at work. I'd do anything for them at any time. They are my babies. They make me feel like I make a difference in the world, and I love spending time with them.
However, my direct supervisors are complete asshats, and I can't subject myself to one more moment with them for fear that I will wind up on top of a water tower with a rifle.
It all started when I got chewed out for not showing up to a shift that I wasn't scheduled to work anyway. Schedule me on my day off all you want, my fat ass still isn't coming in to work. This old bitch chews me out for ten minutes, in front of my kids and staff. I'm not one to apologize, even when I know I'm wrong, so the chances of me sucking it up and apologizing for something that I didn't do are slim to none. My habit of doing this really tends to piss my superiors off.
So, I get shipped off to go to the Haunted House, Hardees and Church with a group of kids. Gone for upwards of 7 hours. During this 7 hour time one of the kids back at the shelter flooded the upstairs toilet. It was a goddamn disgusting mess, I'll spare you the details.
That old bat of a boss that has it out for me not only waits 7 goddamn hours to have someone fix it, she makes, surprise surprise, me do it. Not the other staff that was there when it happened (although its their responsibility).
Being the 'team player' I am, I give it a whirl. And promptly almost barf all over everything. I pull the old bitch to the side to tell her that this isn't going to happen, as it's company policy that we don't have to do anything that makes us uncomfortable.
She looked at me and said, I swear to god "The longer it takes for you to clean it up, the longer it'll take for you to go home". Now, knowing that she can't go home until I do, I decide that not only am I not going to clean it up, but I'm going to take a shitload of time not cleaning it up.
During the time that I was busy faking cleaning it up (and trust me, I wouldn't step in that bathroom again, ever), that Geritol popping lazy eyed cunt sent the rest of the staff home, and forced me to stay after and do the laundry, which again, another staff could've easily done.
I gathered up the last shards of my dignity and I punched out that night almost two hours after my shift was supposed to end.
I also wrote my letter of resignation.
Dear Bill:
Effective November 1, 2004 I am resigning from my position as Youth Service Worker at Valley Shelter Homes.
I thank you for the opportunity to work here, and the knowledge I've gained will be valuable for my studies and future employment in the field.
Clare
He sends me a note, saying he wants me to stay, as I'm the best and the brightest staff he has. Bless his heart, he tried to be accommodating, but I just can't stay.
My response:
Bill:
I have carefully considered your offer, and regret to inform you that nothing short of firing half of your staff and promising me vacation time, a Lexus and $38 an hour will get me to stay at this institution. I love the kids, and the staff, but your senior staff coordinators are nothing short of petty assholes who need to be shot in the forehead. I pray someday that I will run this bitch and they will clean my toilet.
Clare
So as you all can see, I can't stay at the job anymore. However, he did promise me a shining reference. And maybe that last HALF isn't EXACTLY how things went, but you get the idea.
Oh and Myrlene, if you're reading this: Fuck you and your mom.
I was inspired to make a brief update by Chris, who is in fact, not dead. I've also heard from a very reliable source who shall remain nameless that he got more buff (I always thought he was anyway). But regardless, this is something I demand to see for myself! He owes me drunk time!
Also, Jon Stewart is my hero. He wins for the bowtie comment.
I started working out again, seeing as prednisone has made me gain more weight than Roseanne on an icecream bender, and I kind of want to die. And by "kind of want to die" I mean, I really want to die. Muscles hurt that I didn't even know I had. If I lift my arms, they might fall off. My thighs burn, and I may or may not have a cramp in my butt. I didn't even know that was possible.
Apparently this guy knew all about it.
On another note, I put in my two weeks at my job. One might ask why I would do that when I love my kids as much as I do.
The answer is simple my friends. I adore my kids at work. I'd do anything for them at any time. They are my babies. They make me feel like I make a difference in the world, and I love spending time with them.
However, my direct supervisors are complete asshats, and I can't subject myself to one more moment with them for fear that I will wind up on top of a water tower with a rifle.
It all started when I got chewed out for not showing up to a shift that I wasn't scheduled to work anyway. Schedule me on my day off all you want, my fat ass still isn't coming in to work. This old bitch chews me out for ten minutes, in front of my kids and staff. I'm not one to apologize, even when I know I'm wrong, so the chances of me sucking it up and apologizing for something that I didn't do are slim to none. My habit of doing this really tends to piss my superiors off.
So, I get shipped off to go to the Haunted House, Hardees and Church with a group of kids. Gone for upwards of 7 hours. During this 7 hour time one of the kids back at the shelter flooded the upstairs toilet. It was a goddamn disgusting mess, I'll spare you the details.
That old bat of a boss that has it out for me not only waits 7 goddamn hours to have someone fix it, she makes, surprise surprise, me do it. Not the other staff that was there when it happened (although its their responsibility).
Being the 'team player' I am, I give it a whirl. And promptly almost barf all over everything. I pull the old bitch to the side to tell her that this isn't going to happen, as it's company policy that we don't have to do anything that makes us uncomfortable.
She looked at me and said, I swear to god "The longer it takes for you to clean it up, the longer it'll take for you to go home". Now, knowing that she can't go home until I do, I decide that not only am I not going to clean it up, but I'm going to take a shitload of time not cleaning it up.
During the time that I was busy faking cleaning it up (and trust me, I wouldn't step in that bathroom again, ever), that Geritol popping lazy eyed cunt sent the rest of the staff home, and forced me to stay after and do the laundry, which again, another staff could've easily done.
I gathered up the last shards of my dignity and I punched out that night almost two hours after my shift was supposed to end.
I also wrote my letter of resignation.
Dear Bill:
Effective November 1, 2004 I am resigning from my position as Youth Service Worker at Valley Shelter Homes.
I thank you for the opportunity to work here, and the knowledge I've gained will be valuable for my studies and future employment in the field.
Clare
He sends me a note, saying he wants me to stay, as I'm the best and the brightest staff he has. Bless his heart, he tried to be accommodating, but I just can't stay.
My response:
Bill:
I have carefully considered your offer, and regret to inform you that nothing short of firing half of your staff and promising me vacation time, a Lexus and $38 an hour will get me to stay at this institution. I love the kids, and the staff, but your senior staff coordinators are nothing short of petty assholes who need to be shot in the forehead. I pray someday that I will run this bitch and they will clean my toilet.
Clare
So as you all can see, I can't stay at the job anymore. However, he did promise me a shining reference. And maybe that last HALF isn't EXACTLY how things went, but you get the idea.
Oh and Myrlene, if you're reading this: Fuck you and your mom.
Sunday, October 10, 2004
Tucker Updates, hilarity ensues.
There will be more later, I'm just in the middle of the mother of all papers, and I'm about to curl up in the fetal position and cry.
There will be more later, I'm just in the middle of the mother of all papers, and I'm about to curl up in the fetal position and cry.
Friday, October 08, 2004
I've never been one of those girls to make myself look beautiful to go to class. Normally, I throw on whatever T-shirt is clean, slap on some mascara and run out the door.
I was in the elevator in the library, looking a hot mess as usual. Red hoodie, hair looking like a small animal had nested in it, no makeup, baggy pants. Real goddamn sexy, I know.
The only other person in the elevator was one of the most gorgeous guys I've ever seen. Tall, muscular, green eyes...amazing looking.
And he was staring.
At me.
Great. I probably had something hanging out of my nose or stuck in my teeth or something, and here I am with this amazing looking man.
No sooner had I thought "Well God thinks I'm fucking hilarious", I realized that this man was talking. A quick look around the elevator reaffirmed the fact that he was indeed talking to me.
The transcript of our conversation went something like this:
Amazingly Sexy Guy: I'm sorry..
Tweeker Chick: ...huh? Good start, Clare. Make sure you're not drooling, too.
ASG: I know this sounds really dumb...
TC: It's ok if your dumb, as long as you get naked.
ASG: But you remind me of someone.
TC: I hear that a lot. Who? If he says his sister, I'm faking a seizure to end this conversation.
ASG: I told you this was weird...but there's this website...
TC: Oh fuck.
ASG: And the girl who writes it is hilarious. She's this cute little thing...
TC: Well you know THAT'S not me.Really?
ASG: She's hilarious. You look just like her. I wish I could remember the name of the site.
TC: What does she write about?
ASG: Everything. She's the coolest chick alive, she's even got the Paris Hilton tape linked up.
TC: Shit. You really don't remember the site?
ASG: Something about "Say My Name"...it's crazy how much you resemble her. I guess she lives around here.
TC: That is really fucked up. That is REALLY fucked up.
ASG: I was pretty sure you weren't her.
TC: I guess you never know, right?
ASG: I guess not.
You never really do know, do ya?
What can I say. It has been awhile since I've fucked with someone, and I needed some new material.
I was in the elevator in the library, looking a hot mess as usual. Red hoodie, hair looking like a small animal had nested in it, no makeup, baggy pants. Real goddamn sexy, I know.
The only other person in the elevator was one of the most gorgeous guys I've ever seen. Tall, muscular, green eyes...amazing looking.
And he was staring.
At me.
Great. I probably had something hanging out of my nose or stuck in my teeth or something, and here I am with this amazing looking man.
No sooner had I thought "Well God thinks I'm fucking hilarious", I realized that this man was talking. A quick look around the elevator reaffirmed the fact that he was indeed talking to me.
The transcript of our conversation went something like this:
Amazingly Sexy Guy: I'm sorry..
Tweeker Chick: ...huh? Good start, Clare. Make sure you're not drooling, too.
ASG: I know this sounds really dumb...
TC: It's ok if your dumb, as long as you get naked.
ASG: But you remind me of someone.
TC: I hear that a lot. Who? If he says his sister, I'm faking a seizure to end this conversation.
ASG: I told you this was weird...but there's this website...
TC: Oh fuck.
ASG: And the girl who writes it is hilarious. She's this cute little thing...
TC: Well you know THAT'S not me.Really?
ASG: She's hilarious. You look just like her. I wish I could remember the name of the site.
TC: What does she write about?
ASG: Everything. She's the coolest chick alive, she's even got the Paris Hilton tape linked up.
TC: Shit. You really don't remember the site?
ASG: Something about "Say My Name"...it's crazy how much you resemble her. I guess she lives around here.
TC: That is really fucked up. That is REALLY fucked up.
ASG: I was pretty sure you weren't her.
TC: I guess you never know, right?
ASG: I guess not.
You never really do know, do ya?
What can I say. It has been awhile since I've fucked with someone, and I needed some new material.
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