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Talk to Your Kids about Sex

7 Apr

My mother was a feminist. My single mother, which means, God bless her, that I was raised as a feminist.  It means my sex and relationship talks from her were about respecting women.  About not taking advantage of women, not hurting them, not raping them.  After my stepdad came into our lives I never discussed these things with him.  It took a few conversations with my father to sort out the one thing that I really and truly needed to know about sex, which is: you’re not a bad looking dude, and don’t worry, you can get laid.

He’d had a very different life than me.  I lost my virginity at seventeen; at that age he had been picked up for dealing heroin and given the choice of going to the clink or enlisting in the marines at the height of Vietnam.  He told me stories like “one time I beat up this black guy so bad that I was checking the papers the next day to make sure I hadn’t killed him.”  He had a tough, colorful life.  I was on scholarship to a prep school where they had not one but two competing a capella groups that in any sensible community would have had the shit kicked out of them on a daily basis.  I was going to a school where they flew in math geniuses from China and all the girls wore docksiders and no makeup and were second cousins with Winston Churchill and if they ever saw a penis they would explode.  The occasional accidental erection of their horse was the only stiff penis they had ever seen, and they had absolutely no curiosity about expanding their knowledge.  A rich new England WASP girl is basically born elderly, in terms of her sexuality.  This is why she has time to focus on things like perfecting her application essay to intern at the U.N.  When I started at this fancy school, it was immediately clear that none of these girls would ever show even the remotest interest in me; they barely showed interest in boys at all.   Continue reading →

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Old News: Occupy LA Part 2

31 Mar

Originally Posted 10/16/11:

I went down to Occupy Wall Street yesterday.  Occupy LA, rather, in front of City Hall.  I wanted to see what it was about, what people were actually protesting, what they actually wanted.  Also, I figured there would be girls there.

The talk on the internet seems to be that OK, it is understandable that people are pissed off about “the way things are right now,” but the “movement” has no concrete goals and really stands for nothing besides inchoate frustration. And so while it’s growing, while it’s spreading worldwide, while cops are cracking heads in Zuccotti Park and Carbanieri vans are on fire in Rome, until this “movement” gets its shit together and actually asks for something it’ll all be for nothing.

From what I saw at occupy LA this is entirely accurate.  First, I was a little disappointed that it is in fact a peaceful, organized protest.  There was a march right before I got there, which seems to have gone smoothly and in an orderly fashion.  There is a tent city around City Hall that is completely confined to the grass with fastidious volunteers appearing out of nowhere every five minutes to pick up cigarette butts.  Protestors happily stayed contained in the few streets that the city had conscientiously blocked off to keep shit from getting out of hand, and gathered around a stage and PA system that seems to have been set up with all the appropriate permits.  There was an adequate amount of Port-o-sans.  The few cops visible were the LAPD’s bike-bound squad of “courtesy officers,” or whateverthefuck they’re called.  They wear purple shirts that make them look like the world’s most militant kickball team.  They kept to themselves, returned eye contact and smiled when smiled at.  This is different, I gather, from New York, where the NYPD is crushing people’s femurs and throwing haymakers at nancy-boy college kids.  As is their wont. Continue reading →

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Women of OKCupid:

29 Mar

Why are you all so god damn fucking boring?

There are about 3 profiles of single women in the greater Los Angeles area that reveal ANYTHING about the person whatsoever.  The rest, you are browsing this shit and you feel like God only made 5 people.

There’s the I was born in Wisconsin, went to school in Pennsylvania, came out to LA three years ago and haven’t looked back! The geography person. Who the fuck– we all live in America, we all watch the same TV shows, why the fuck do you think it matters one iota what state you came from. Unless it’s some weird shit like Alaska or Wyoming, this is genuinely the most meaningless information in the world. Even if you came from one of those places.  I’m not looking to get a state drunk and rawdog them; I want to do that to a person.

There’s the “contradiction” person.  This might be the blandest one of all.  I initially appear really shy and introverted, but once you get to know me I’m the life of the party! (This one often enjoys exclamation points).  I’m a traditional girl at heart, but I think outside the box! I’m a girly girl, but I love sports! I can be really nice and really mean!  I love reading books but I also enjoy trashy reality TV– shhh, don’t tell anyone!  Jesus– these fake examples I’m coming up with are actually more illuminating than the real thing.  This one is a deliberate construct that is designed to tell you nothing. Continue reading →

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OKCupid: Hey Fuckstick, How About YOU Make ME Laugh

29 Mar

Because we all know you like to be made to laugh; you’ve told us, over and over and over again.  Collectively you have said “live laugh love” or “make me laugh” a thousand million billion times.  Or you’ve put up the whorish-sounding “make me laugh and you can make me do anything.” Make me laugh and you can sneak it in my ass, is that what this means?  Make me laugh and you can jerk off in my mouth while watching porn?  Make me laugh and I will fuck guys off craigslist and bring you back the money?  I mean, I shouldn’t complain about this– I am not a professional comedian, but I consider myself funny.  And girls do in fact “do anything,” although the “anything” that I’m asking for is just to fuck me in the most vanilla manner imaginable.  I don’t require that they cook me a meal or take me on a date or engage me intellectually or anything, and they certainly haven’t offered.  Make me laugh and you can make me do anything.  That pretty much spells it out– you bring the personality, I’ll bring the pussy.

Continue reading →

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I Don’t Want

27 Mar

to go out with you.  I want to just fuck you.  But I don’t want to fuck the kind of girl who just fucks you.  And I don’t want to go out with the kind of girl who just goes out with you.  I want to fuck the kind of girl who goes out with you, and go out with the kind of girl who just fucks you.

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The Legend of Zelda

17 Mar

Going out and trying to meet a girl at a bar is like, when in Legend of Zelda, you had to, to get the raft or something, you had to burn down a bush with the candle. And you didn’t know which bush. There are thousands of bushes in the game. So you just went around with your candle through each screen burning each individual bush. That’s what going out is like, only without the certainty that there even IS a raft, or a ladder, or whateverthefuck it was. Like looking for the raft without the correct issue of Nintendo Power. That’s why Legend of Zelda sucked.

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Diary: Sitting in the Park

16 Mar

OK. Sitting in the park.  Opted to write over playing guitar.  This is therefore the one day when a hot available chick would have been walking in the park, heard my magnificent guitar playing, stopped and talked to me, and then had sex with me.  Stayed with me for all my long days and borne me many children.  Now instead I will die alone.

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Reader Mailbag: BF Out of My League

15 Mar

(REDACTED) asks:

I guess I want to know why an incredible good looking man would date an average looking woman…I met a hot as hell man who should be dating a supermodel and for some reason he has an interest in me, he’s not pushing sex at all, so I dont think its him thinking I’m desperate and he could easily get into my pants…he just wants to hang out and gives me amazing kisses. I dont get it. I’m an hour away, I dont drive, I dont have a job and I’m very average looking and a little chubby. I’m just not sure how to proceed with him.

Uh, who cares?  Pussy is pussy.  Or in your case, dick is dick.  Or, non-dick is non-dick, since you say he isn’t using you for sex.

Wait, why is that a good thing, that he isn’t fucking you.  That he isn’t “pushing” to fuck you.  Fucking is good.

I mean, I don’t know why he wants to date you.  But who cares.  I used to think that all the time—why on earth would this girl want to be with me, etc.  Every time.  Every time they would stop dating me. No good can ever come of thinking this. Continue reading →

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To Noelle, on the Occasion of Her Underboob Tattoo

12 Mar

I am going to build a high school guidance counselor’s office.  Every motivational poster, every prop, everything.  I’m going to put on a cardigan and tie.

Every so often I’m going to call you in. I will be looking forward to this bright spot in my week.  You are one of our most promising students— not like the rest of these pregnant, glue-sniffing fuckups.  You’re smart and pleasant and goddamn can you put a sentence together.  Maybe you’ll be a journalist, or a lawyer or something. Or a congresswoman!

You will walk in and I will not be able to hide the gleefully expectant look on my face as I ask what you’ve been up to lately.

After you leave, I will sob quietly into my travel mug for hours.

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Friends of Nikol

9 Mar

For people who see all these health updates and are worried, I mean- yes, it is bad, obviously.

But you should know that Nikol is still Nikol. When you are around her, she still acts like the Nikol you know. Even with the 104 fever and softball sized subcutaneous lumps of pure blood poison and needle marks and hair and eyebrow loss and etc., when you are talking to her, it’s still, you know– she is still the same funny and vulgar person. You don’t get the impression that you are dealing with some sort of late night infomercial shit like this is Pedro and he can’t afford shoes so he can’t walk to school because worms will go into the soles of his feet and into his brain and even if he had shoes there is no school to go to anyway and if there were it would be a catch 22 because the brain you were hoping to educate would have been eaten by the worms, but all this could change for the price of a cup of coffee. Nikol is not doing a half assed job of swiping flies away from her eyeballs and stroking a gas-bloated stomach while a lone vulture looks on. She feels bad a lot but is still Nikol and can complain about the whole thing humorously.

Or maybe that’s just for me and the rest of you get some Debra Winger shit, who knows. But I find it reassuring and I thought you should know that she is still fun to spend time with. People get sick and you get scared that when you visit them you’re walking into a Meredith Baxter Birney Lifetime movie, but it’s not gonna be like that. You’re gonna be drinking beers and talking about dicks just like old times. Or whatever you normally discuss. Needlepoint maybe.

So go visit Nikol. Or don’t, if she wants to be left alone. I should have asked her before I wrote this.

For people who don’t know Nikol, she’s my friend who has cancer and is possibly  gonna bite it.

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