Archive | April 2014

Where have all the good Southern Gentlemen gone?

I do declare, finding a good single Southern Gentleman in this damn place is harder than finding a condom in my sister’s vajayjay.  Unless one just drops in front of me, I think I’ll just plum out of luck.  For those of you who don’t know the difference between a Southern Gentleman and a redneck, I’ll explain it for you.

154_0609_09_z+michigan_mudding+no_nameA redneck is a scruffy guy who enjoys hunting, mudding, drinking beer in excess, and probably has no real ambitions in life except maybe to get hitched and make some little redneck babies with a woman who is happy to wash his drawers and fix his supper.  His accent is southern, but not the gentile type.   He also has no problem using words like dingle and the n-word.  I’m generalizing here, but you get the idea.

A Southern Gentleman is more educated, and probably went to one of the big SEC schools.  He is stylish, courteous, chivalrous, polite, ambitious, and kind.  Hunting may be one of his pastimes, but it’s not something that he spends most of his free time doing.  He actually enjoys going to museums, traveling, and yes, even spoiling his significant other whenever possible.  The finer things in life are important to him, but so is working hard and planning for his future stability.  Of course he too wants to settle down, but not just to make babies and have someone bring him his supper.  He wants an educated woman to be his partner in life.  And the accent…oh my God, the accent.  Just hearing him talk makes you melt.  It drips with charm, intelligence, and humor.

tumblr_mpldzlkLcR1qka51yo1_1280Now that we have that cleared up, I’ll just tell you right now that there is not a single decent looking single Southern Gentleman in this damn town.  Trust me.  I’ve checked.  Twice.  Since there aren’t any left, I’ve deleted all of my profiles from all the crappy dating sites and have decided that unless one drops in my lap, I’ll just stay single forever.  Plus the fact that my tastes in men seems to suck on a colossal level doesn’t help any.

This completely goes against my “never give up on love” policy, but at this point I don’t have the energy nor the drive to continue looking for my soul mate.  In fact, I don’t think I even have one.

So it looks like I’m stuck here because of my job, which I am grateful for, but I have no real friends here.  I’m all alone in this little town with no car.  I couldn’t even run away even if I wanted to.  My life has turned into a monotony of going to work, going home, watching tv (lately it’s just been re-watching True Blood), and praying that one day, before I die alone in this shit hole, I’ll be able to at least buy a car and get out of town for a few days.

Well, there I go again ranting.  At least I feel a little better now.  Not much.  Just a little.

Here’s a cheesy 80’s video to make us all feel better.

Happy humping!


The case of the missing condom

Late Easter Sunday night my phone rang.  It was my sister.  “Hello sis.  So…Bitchboy came over tonight,” she said.  Bitchboy is her new plaything.  He’s a 28-year-old self-absorbed redneck who is quite possibly bisexual.  He’s cute though, and therefore fun to play with.  So he went over to her house last night and they had a little play time.  Evidently half way through the condom came off.  Of course my first question was if the condom was too big for him.  She swears that wasn’t the problem.  Since they were half way in through they didn’t bother looking for the condom right then.  He put another one on and kept right on going.

surprisedwomanAfter they finished they started looking for the missing condom.  It was nowhere to be found.  They checked the bed, under the bed, under the pillows, and still couldn’t find it.  Then it dawned on my sister, and Bitchboy, that the condom might still be inside her.  Not knowing what to do, Bitchboy pulled out his phone and started Googling it.  He found out that if the condom is not removed rather quickly, it can cause an infection.  So she went to the bathroom to go on a condom hunt.

She couldn’t feel it or find it.  The condom must have been deep inside, and she assumed it was because he was hitting the “back wall” if you get my meaning.  He must have pushed it so far in that she couldn’t reach it on her own.  The only other thing to do was either to wait and see if it came out on its own, or go to a doctor to have it removed.

Funny-condomWell, once Bitchboy left my sister called me and told me what had happened.  At first I tried to be supportive and helpful, even doing my own Google search.  I could tell by the tone of her voice that she was a little worried and even more embarrassed, but we were still able to laugh about it.  Especially when I asked, “How in the hell do these kinds of things happen to us?”

I really didn’t know what to tell her or what advice to give her.  The only thing I could suggest was for her to do jumping jacks to try to jog it loose.  Unfortunately, she said Bitchboy had already suggested that.  After some more research I found a page that suggested propping one leg up high on a counter or something so that the condom can more easily be retrieved.  So it seemed that yoga may be the answer…or not.


Since neither of us had any good ideas about how to retrieve the missing condom, we decided it would probably be best if she just had a drink and then went to the doctor the next day, if it hadn’t made an appearance before then.  I said goodnight and good luck.

Seven minutes later she sent me a text that said, “Got it!!!”  I guess the jumping jacks worked.

Happy humping! (Never stop searching.)


You know what sucks about being a whore?


“You know what sucks about being a whore?” asked Fallen Angel.

“Having to fuck ugly men?” replied me.

“Shaving your legs five times a week and changing the sheets three times a week.  Maybe you get used to sleeping in cum, but I never have,” she explained.

That was courtesy of my sister, Fallen Angel.  Bless her heart.

Happy humping! (Another meeting of the She-Woman Man-Haters Club is adjourned.)


The men who fooled the Preacher’s Daughters

My sister, Fallen Angel, suggested that I write this post, since lately we’ve both been fooled by men.  Her tagline to the title was “Almost but not quite extinct.”

I told you in my earlier post, Welcome Back to the She-Woman Man-Haters Club, that her boyfriend, WR, had been caught being a two-timing bastard.  Unfortunately, as we suspected, his story about just helping that girl out turned out to be a lie.  He finally admitted to her being his live-in girlfriend.  He tried to weave another story about how he was trying to break up with her, but he had helped her get a car in his name, and he was afraid to kick her out because he can’t afford the payments on his own.  There are so many things wrong with that story, true as it may be.  So, he’s not only a liar, he’s stupid too.  Men will do stupid things for pussy.

I know I’ve had my share of fucked up relationships, but I really did think that Teacher was one of the good ones.  I couldn’t have been more wrong.  It’s been very easy for me to replace my heartache with anger.  That’s probably because of my confusion.  I still don’t fully understand why he would just dump me, even though he claims it was because my depression was bringing him down.  Was I really that depressed?  Why was he not willing to try to work things out once we both realized that I was completely oblivious to his so-called attempts at affection?  We could have communicated better.  We probably could have saved the relationship.

Unless, that is, he had already made up his mind that he didn’t love me and he could do better than me.  If he didn’t love me then I really was fooled by him.  He never gave me any reason to suspect that he was the type to cheat, and he didn’t even give me any reason to ever be jealous.  If anything, he made me feel unloved and unwanted by not spending time with me other than sitting on the couch.  He never asked me to go anywhere other than his gigs, and even those he stopped asking me to go to.

There were times, mostly gigs during the week, that I told him I couldn’t go to because I just couldn’t be out until 2:00 am when I had to work the next day.  I have a good job and I am trying to keep it.  The last thing I needed was to go in to work tired and hung over.  Maybe he felt that I wasn’t supporting him because I wasn’t going to all of his gigs like I used to, but when I was going to all of them, I wasn’t working a full-time job like I am now.

I’m not trying to win him back.  Understanding is all I want.  I’ve already gone past being able to trust him enough to allow him back into my life and my bed.  I’d rather have a stranger in my bed than someone who has proven themselves to be selfish, uncaring, and untrustworthy.  I’d rather have no one in my heart and my bed than I’d have Teacher back in my life.  I may have had many men in my bed and my life, but very few have actually worked their way into my heart and soul like he did.  I would have stuck by him through almost anything.  In fact I did.  When he told me he was being sued by his ex-girlfriend’s husband, I didn’t flinch.  When he didn’t want me to get a car because of his enormous student loans, I held my tongue and dealt with it.  When he told me that he had never hidden his profile on Plenty of Fish because he used it to make connections for his music and gigs, I stupidly trusted that he was telling me the truth.

Some things are just unforgivable, and breaking my heart is one of those things.

I promise I’ll get back to telling stories about sex and debauchery soon, but for now I just need to vent.


How to make the Preacher’s Daughter’s panties fall off

First, take me to a nice dinner & for drinks after.  It doesn’t have to be anything too fancy, but definitely not McDonald’s or the Sizzler.

Second, take me to a Bruno Mars concert.  (I get chills just thinking about that man.  Funny, sexy, talented.  The trifecta that I love.  His bass player is pretty hot too.  Mmmm bass.)

Third, watch as my panties fall to the floor, and then prepare to have the best sex you’ve ever had…once we get back to the room.  I ain’t no ho.  It’s not like I’m gonna bang you in the bathroom or anything.  Maybe a little head in the cab though.

Note: This is not the only way to make my panties fall off; it’s just the best way.

Happy humping!  (Shake that ass! Show me whatcha workin’ with!)