a stranger accidentally text messaged me the other day. this is how it played out. this is 100% from real life.
309: Omg, kate really does get on tom about everything! Its weird...like how she tells him what to do and then tzts kam and tells her what he's doing.
me: omg yr so right tell me more. Tom...tom...tom
309: So, I didn't mean to txt u and i have no idea who u r. Sorry. Awfully odd response tho.
me: Wanna be frenz?
309: Not especially. Who r u?
me: This is your subconscious speaking. LOL.
309: lol. Nice.
me: Think about it, we could be penpals. This could be the next big thing, random text yo area code.
309: haha. R u a boy?
me: Do i sound like a boy?
309: U sound like a creepzilla!
me: I am not a creepzilla i am a human being i deserve my rights u sound like a tween dude.
309: mwahahaha! I'm a lady. 25. U sound like an art fag.
me: I am a 24 yo woman and i am totally an art fag.
309: I knew it! Still wanna be penpals?
me: Um like duh. Who else is gonna listen to you bitch about Tom.
309: tom's my husband's son.
me: How old is he?
309: 10. I was bitching cuz his sister gets on him for all the weird shit he does and its stifling the kid.
me: Maybe the shit he does is really effing weird tho, amirite?
309: He licked the cat's tail. Sure, he's fuckin weird but its a good thing. sure the cats get tired of cleaning themselves all the time.
me: Who hasn't wanted to do that. Although recall the tail's proximity to the asshole, which is at least a psychological concern.
309: Indeed. But hey, its fun as long as its just the tip. Joking...or am i. U know peter, by chance?
me: If course I know peter! ...grl u serious? wtf.
309: this is rachel.
me: Yeah we totally went to high school together!
309: lyzz? U gonna keep me guessing?
me: Don't you have any sense of mystery? 309 covers a huge amount of central illi.
309: you're right...where IS my sense of mystery?
me: You sold your soul to the devil.
309: Hah! U sed it, man!
me: Godspeed.
309: nice talking w ya, lil lady! Take her easy!
me: Likewise. Peace.
Showing posts with label humor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label humor. Show all posts
Monday, June 6, 2011
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Shopping Experience.
>>>
Nicole has gone to the megamart with the intention of purchasing shampoo, but a sale on panties causes Nicole to momentarily prioritize the care of her pubic hair over the blonde curls on her head.
The deal is five pairs for twenty dollars.
Nicole desperately needs panties for two reasons: one, she has been too lazy to do laundry for the past couple days and has been without clean underwear. Right now she wears a summer dress with no panties, but not because she is slutty, necessarily.
Two, Nicole has strategically planned on getting laid exactly a week from now. Her target likes boyshorts even more than thongs, which Nicole thinks is unusual for a man. But boyshorts make the bottom of Nicole's ass look like upside-down cleavage, so she is happy that he likes them, and is also happy boyshorts are part of the underwear sale.
Nicole browses the racks of panties. She decides to purchase smooth cotton pairs in order to contrast the laciness of her garter belt and fishnet stockings. Nicole loves fashion, and she has figured out its only secret: a combination of various textures. This makes her look expensive even if she still has to ask her parents for money from time to time.
Nicole has selected a pair of black shorts and a pair of blue ones when she feels someone tap her on the shoulder. It is an Asian man of medium height with spiked hair and wire-rim glasses.
"Hi, what are you doing?" he asks Nicole.
Nicole is holding the boyshorts in her left hand and her right hand is buried in a pile of g-strings, searching for a size six.
"I am buying underwear," she tells him.
"The reason I came over here is because I thought you looked wealthy. Are you wealthy?"
Nicole looks at the sign above the rack of panties that says "5 for $20." The panties she fantasizes about wearing someday are fifty dollars each.
"No, I am not wealthy," Nicole says.
"Well, you look wealthy. I need to find a wealthy woman because I need someone to help me support the twenty children I've fathered."
Nicole stares at the man. He is probably a few years younger than her - twenty-two or so.
"Are you...are you joking?" she says.
The man looks defeated. "Yes, I was joking. I just wanted to know if you wanted to hang out sometime."
Nicole looks up at the ceiling, which she does every time she is nervous. It makes her eyes looks bigger and sexier but she does not intend that effect.
"Sorry, I am leaving this city soon," she says.
"Oh. Well. Maybe another time."
The man walks away and Nicole is charged with anxiety. "I can't help but think they always think I'm a prostitute," she writes in her diary that night.
>>>
Nicole has gone to the megamart with the intention of purchasing shampoo, but a sale on panties causes Nicole to momentarily prioritize the care of her pubic hair over the blonde curls on her head.
The deal is five pairs for twenty dollars.
Nicole desperately needs panties for two reasons: one, she has been too lazy to do laundry for the past couple days and has been without clean underwear. Right now she wears a summer dress with no panties, but not because she is slutty, necessarily.
Two, Nicole has strategically planned on getting laid exactly a week from now. Her target likes boyshorts even more than thongs, which Nicole thinks is unusual for a man. But boyshorts make the bottom of Nicole's ass look like upside-down cleavage, so she is happy that he likes them, and is also happy boyshorts are part of the underwear sale.
Nicole browses the racks of panties. She decides to purchase smooth cotton pairs in order to contrast the laciness of her garter belt and fishnet stockings. Nicole loves fashion, and she has figured out its only secret: a combination of various textures. This makes her look expensive even if she still has to ask her parents for money from time to time.
Nicole has selected a pair of black shorts and a pair of blue ones when she feels someone tap her on the shoulder. It is an Asian man of medium height with spiked hair and wire-rim glasses.
"Hi, what are you doing?" he asks Nicole.
Nicole is holding the boyshorts in her left hand and her right hand is buried in a pile of g-strings, searching for a size six.
"I am buying underwear," she tells him.
"The reason I came over here is because I thought you looked wealthy. Are you wealthy?"
Nicole looks at the sign above the rack of panties that says "5 for $20." The panties she fantasizes about wearing someday are fifty dollars each.
"No, I am not wealthy," Nicole says.
"Well, you look wealthy. I need to find a wealthy woman because I need someone to help me support the twenty children I've fathered."
Nicole stares at the man. He is probably a few years younger than her - twenty-two or so.
"Are you...are you joking?" she says.
The man looks defeated. "Yes, I was joking. I just wanted to know if you wanted to hang out sometime."
Nicole looks up at the ceiling, which she does every time she is nervous. It makes her eyes looks bigger and sexier but she does not intend that effect.
"Sorry, I am leaving this city soon," she says.
"Oh. Well. Maybe another time."
The man walks away and Nicole is charged with anxiety. "I can't help but think they always think I'm a prostitute," she writes in her diary that night.
>>>
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Monday, March 22, 2010
The Second Most Important Thing.
Smoking Notices
posted on mouth's roof, unscorched,
rather, submissive, to lukewarm noodles.
I like room temperature food.
As a smoker I, well I, before I
made nicotine dessert (and pre-breakfast,
coffee, the drive to school [and back],
too), second only to flavor I
wanted clear indications of hot and
cool. Lavasoup and icy fruit. Texture -
tongue welcomes anything, after
becoming acquainted with sperm - no,
just taste and temp for calories one
needn't suck for -
I de-emphasized degrees after afew
years of - rebellion - smokers notice
flavor less, there are reasons one
cannot become a registered connoisseur. In
order to re-tart strawberries and
de-bland butter I
ran out of room on the kitchen counters
and stored my shampoo in the freezer.
I watched food sit when it should be chilled
or heated waited a few extra minutes to
consume a slice of pizza. I can't have a
competition with flavor and you, temperature
are seeded high. By pushing food to rot it
oxidizes or screams to be used gives up on
preserving and succumbs to the tongue to
the mouth that chews it; the only
exception I make is for sperm.
posted on mouth's roof, unscorched,
rather, submissive, to lukewarm noodles.
I like room temperature food.
As a smoker I, well I, before I
made nicotine dessert (and pre-breakfast,
coffee, the drive to school [and back],
too), second only to flavor I
wanted clear indications of hot and
cool. Lavasoup and icy fruit. Texture -
tongue welcomes anything, after
becoming acquainted with sperm - no,
just taste and temp for calories one
needn't suck for -
I de-emphasized degrees after afew
years of - rebellion - smokers notice
flavor less, there are reasons one
cannot become a registered connoisseur. In
order to re-tart strawberries and
de-bland butter I
ran out of room on the kitchen counters
and stored my shampoo in the freezer.
I watched food sit when it should be chilled
or heated waited a few extra minutes to
consume a slice of pizza. I can't have a
competition with flavor and you, temperature
are seeded high. By pushing food to rot it
oxidizes or screams to be used gives up on
preserving and succumbs to the tongue to
the mouth that chews it; the only
exception I make is for sperm.
Monday, November 23, 2009
More Cupcake Outtakes / Prayer Haiku
Hit counts indicate the last one was the second-most popular post on my blog ever. Objectification really works! But don't forget to read my poetry, too. Here's some whore-ified haiku to help make the transition easier. All photos credited to Kendra Schirmer.
Sweet Saviour, bless my
clitoris with infinite
vibrating power.
Oh God, I know of
absolutely nothing worse
than a flaccid cock.
Creator, I am
not sorry for anything
I put in myself.
THE ANTIPOEM
An urge to "write" a poem entirely of cliches (qualification: a few connectors here and there). Yeah I threw these idiomatic expressions together in service of the slant rhyme, but can I claim authorship when eighty-thousand teenage girls reiterate these phrases daily. Poetry combats cliches but I ask you to consider THIS: "better the devil you know than the devil you don't." Does "start from scratch" mean nothing to you? What about "better safe than sorry."
Music vid that follows competes for most radical manifestation of pop-music clichedom. At least in 1979. Actually I just heard it on a beer commercial a couple hours ago. Marked entrance into the cliche: when Miller incorporates you into their latest advertising campaign.
It Was A Dark And Stormy Night
in The Good Old Days - and Good Things Come To Those Who Wait -
a Damsel In Distress Could Care Less
about Labours of Love.
Life Imitates Art.
It Goes Without Saying that
When Fools Fall In Love,
When Push Comes to Shove,
When The Going Gets Tough,
"These Things Happen..."
i'm Calling Your Bluff.
Art Imitates Life.
My Two Cents? or A Penny For Your Thoughts?
Plenty Of Fish In The Sea is a Poor Excuse For
All's Fair In Love And War. Look Before
You Leap. the Calm Before The Storm.
It Was A Dark And Stormy Night.
(A Moment's Respite)
a Baptism Of Fire.
Blood Is Thicker Than Water.
It Was A Dark And Stormy Night.
a Kiss Of Death -
Spring To Life.
Music vid that follows competes for most radical manifestation of pop-music clichedom. At least in 1979. Actually I just heard it on a beer commercial a couple hours ago. Marked entrance into the cliche: when Miller incorporates you into their latest advertising campaign.
It Was A Dark And Stormy Night
in The Good Old Days - and Good Things Come To Those Who Wait -
a Damsel In Distress Could Care Less
about Labours of Love.
Life Imitates Art.
It Goes Without Saying that
When Fools Fall In Love,
When Push Comes to Shove,
When The Going Gets Tough,
"These Things Happen..."
i'm Calling Your Bluff.
Art Imitates Life.
My Two Cents? or A Penny For Your Thoughts?
Plenty Of Fish In The Sea is a Poor Excuse For
All's Fair In Love And War. Look Before
You Leap. the Calm Before The Storm.
It Was A Dark And Stormy Night.
(A Moment's Respite)
a Baptism Of Fire.
Blood Is Thicker Than Water.
It Was A Dark And Stormy Night.
a Kiss Of Death -
Spring To Life.
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