Wednesday, December 10, 2008

 

Calling in gay

Today is this "Day Without A Gay" protest, and I suppose that as an openly bisexual woman I should be calling in gay right now.

I guess this whole thing was dreamed up after a couple of homos read Lysistrata and noticed that the Day Without Immigrants got a lot of press attention.  Specifically the "H8" that this jam is protesting is proposition 8, the California voter initiative banning gay marriage, and all the douchebag losers who support it under the pretense that civilization will crumble if gays are allowed to get married.  I mean, if gays can get married then they will be TEACHING IN SCHOOLS that gays are equal citizens entitled to the same rights as everyone else!   Furthermore, if perverts like the hommasekshuls can get hitched, so can anyone!  People will start marrying their siblings!   Or pets!  As Dr. Peter Venkman once said, "Dogs and cats, living together...MASS HYSTERIA!"  At least these are the dire consequences that the pro-prop 8 people are suggesting necessitate their attempts to strip the gays of their basic human rights.  Anyone with half a brain can tell that proposition 8 is not about "protecting marriage" so much as providing homophobes with legal justification for discriminating against us.

I'm all for saying a great big "fuck you" to the intolerant dickbags that want to spend so much time trying to keep us queers from having the same basic civil rights as everybody else, but I'm just not sure "calling in gay" is the way to do so.  For one thing, if I "call in gay," the only thing I'm interfering with is my own progress through graduate school.  I have no idea if my PI (boss) knows that I'm bisexual, as I've never formally sat him down and said, "Oh, by the way, I like snatch sometimes."  He certainly wouldn't care one way or the other, but he'd also probably be confused about why I was taking the day off even if I explained it.  He knows how much work I have to do before I graduate, and since I'm not planning on marrying anyone of either gender anytime soon, the only thing I should be doing is a fuckload of mouse experiments.  Although I'm pretty sure that here in fag-friendly New York I'm not in a state where I can be fired (or, more accurately, expelled) for my sexual orientation, I still can't really take the day off from lab to go volunteer somewhere.  Also, I can't alternatively refuse to spend any money today.  I spend as little money as possible anyway because I'm ridiculously poor, but I have to get coffee.  That isn't an option.

I'd be happy to educate people about the Employment Non-Discrimination Act or contact Rep. Charles Rangel or Senators Schumer and Clinton (and Caroline Kennedy, if necessary) to voice my support for said bill, as the Day Without A Gay website suggests I should do in lieu of playing hooky for gay marriage.  In spite of my selfish desire to go work today, and my generally cynical attitude about life, I do feel very strongly about gay rights and equality.  Gays seem to be the one group that it's still legally and socially acceptable to withhold civil rights from, primarily because a bunch of religious types want to impose their beliefs on everyone else.  Granted, these same religious types like to claim that gays are doing exactly that by fighting for marriage rights, although I would argue that according to the U.S. Constitution and judicial precedent, this fight is about rights that we already have on paper.  In 1967, the Supreme Court invalidated laws against racial intermarriage in Loving v. Virginia, noting that marriage to the partner of a person's choosing is "one of the vital personal rights essential to the orderly pursuit of happiness."  The last time I checked the Constitution, the "pursuit of happiness" was described as an "inalienable right."  I interpret this as meaning that marriage to anybody–including someone of the same sex–is protected by the Constitution and any state laws prohibiting it should be invalid.  Of course, I assume that until the Supreme Court throws down on this issue, that's all up for debate.

Although I'm not calling in gay today, I'd like to do something that for me is equally rare: encourage activism.  Normally I think social activism is for hippies and annoying Smith girls, but I don't think these religious cocksuckers should get to decide which of my civil rights should be imposed upon because they don't want their children to learn tolerance in schools, or because they are somehow threatened by gays being afforded basic human rights.  I resent being told that "protecting marriage" is somehow different and more admirable than "God Hates Fags," or that being gay is somehow undeserving of equal treatment under the law.  My lazy ass is even going to write a letter to my elected representatives about it (although I will try to avoid using terms such as "cocksucker", "douchenozzle", or "dickbag" in my correspondence).  If you can't call in gay, I strongly recommend you do the same.       

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# posted by Razzy @ 7:53 AM 0 Comments Links to this post

Friday, November 14, 2008

 

Supreme Court rules 5-4 against Hayden Panettiere

I've never watched "Heroes," but that hasn't stopped me from hating Hayden Panettiere.  First off, "Heroes" looks like a dumb show, and second, this dumb bitch was annoying me before she could vote.  About a year ago, Hayden decided to get together with her whale-saving friends to make a failed attempt at disrupting a traditional Japanese long-pole dolphin hunt.  LL Cool Jew's "low-simmer distaste...overboiled into full-fledged disgust" at this incident to the point that she actually took a moment to douchebag her.  I proceeded to get even more irritated with her when she decided to open up her dicksucking hole during the democratic primaries and declare her allegiance for whichever candidate loves the whales.  That irritation grew into a heartfelt deathwish once she started trashing my ancestral homeland.  Now, Hayden has managed to piss off an even more august body of critics than myself and LL Cool Jew.  Specifically, she has gotten on the bad side of these respectable titans of constitutional justice:


Yes, the other day, the United States Supreme Court ruled 5-4 against Hayden Panettiere.  Okay, so of COURSE David Souter and Ruth Bader Ginsburg dissented entirely, but I can't trust a bitch who wears a doily around her neck anyway.  And okay, FINE, they weren't exactly ruling against Hayden Panettiere so much as the Greenpeace hippie types trying to stop the Navy from playing with their underwater sonar equipment, but they basically said a big "fuck you" to echolocating whales off the coast of southern California.  Assuming that Hayden's dumb ass decides to put down her elderly Japanese fisherman-disrupting surfboard and pick up a newspaper, she might recognize that it's not just a handful of rural folk from other cultures wreaking havoc on her beloved whales.  It's the entire United States Navy, and her precious cetaceans aren't going to get in the way of the War on Terror.

Of course, Hayden is probably too busy showing off her coochie-cutter boxer briefs to Ellen Degeneres (adding further credence to LL Cool Jew's prophecy that Hayden's whale-loving ways doesn't mean she doesn't have a seat saved at the sushi bar, if you get my drift-net) to pay attention to the Supreme Court's decision that national security is more important than whales jabbering at each other in their John Tesh instrumental-esque language.  I'm sure, however, once she realizes that our highest judicial body gave the finger to terrorist whalesong, she'll trade in those Ellen granny panties and taped-up strapless sweetheart top for an ugly sweatshirt demanding that everyone boycott the Navy along with Japanese, Norwegian, and Icelandic exports.



Therefore, before she catches on, I'm going to enjoy my last few remaining days of gloating-over-Hayden-Panettiere sentiment with a nice dolphin-unfriendly tuna melt.  It's both a celebration of the Supreme Court owning her bitch ass and a salute to her latent lesbianism.  Here's to you, Hayden...or as my whale-devouring Norwegian relatives would say, "Skoal!"

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# posted by Razzy @ 8:56 AM 6 Comments Links to this post

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

 

And may we officially welcome you to the clam bake, Linds

Well over a year ago, my BFF LL Cool Jew astutely observed Lindsay Lohan's Smith College hat and postulated that indeed she had pulled up a seat at the sushi bar with clam-digging DJ Samantha Ronson.  I concurred that Lindsay Lohan had most likely decided that she liked her tacos pink, and spent all the time since highlighting evidence (like dispatching missives from rehab signed "Lindsay Ronson" and making out on random yachts on the French riviera and talking marriage) supporting our theory.

Of course, we weren't the only ones promoting this hypothesis.  The buzz about Samantha Ronson getting face-deep in Lohan's firecrotch really exploded when scenes like this started occurring regularly, contradicting Fat Joe's (unbelievable and totally nast) claim that Lindsay Lohan is his "O-jam":


However, the other night Sam called into "Loveline" to talk about how DJ AM's face has melted off, and because like any good lesbian couple these two may as well be conjoined, Linds was listening in and snagged the phone at one point.  She then confirmed that indeed they moved Sam's turntables into Lindsay's condo many menses ago and have been delighting in their season tickets to the Sparks ever since.  LL Cool Jew and I immediately took to bragging about how we SO called it.
LL Cool Jew: lezlo confirms relationship!!!
Razzy: i know i saw
Razzy: i mean, so anticlimactic
Razzy: like "i hope dj am gets better. duh we're gay"
LL Cool Jew: LOL
Razzy: but let's be real
Razzy: WE knew she had a reserved table at the sushi bar the day she donned that smith college hat!
LL Cool Jew: i love how their nine-month relationship counts as "a very long time" in Lohan Years
Razzy: 9 months?
Razzy: haven't they been having tacos for two for like 3 years?
Razzy: you first spotted that smith hat in like 2005 or 2006!
Razzy: oh nevermind, that was may 2007
LL Cool Jew: TOTALLY!
Razzy: according to my blog date
Razzy: so one year at least!
LL Cool Jew: we should crow about that for the rest of our lives
Now it is even more official than our respective Smith College diplomas: LL Cool Jew and I have lesbadar beyond reproach, and we can spot a pair of boobmashers long before the story hits the mainstream press.   Our gayelle detection skills are more precise than an atomic fucking clock.  Seriously, we can pick a Birkenstock jock out of a crowd from a mile away even if she's wearing a sickeningly expensive pair of Louboutins and a set of cocksucker leggings instead of something sensible and shapeless.   I suspect that LL Cool Jew is correct when she notes that we should crow about how on point we are when it comes to picking muff divers out of a lineup for the rest of our lives.  I have no doubt that we will.

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# posted by Razzy @ 10:25 AM 2 Comments Links to this post

Friday, September 12, 2008

 

This is why internet dating is for losers

I have a firm and unimpeachable policy against internet dating.  Partly this is because after acquiring a zillion unsolicited rejects from Friendster a few years back, I realized that the majority of people trolling for dates online are hideous degenerates I wouldn't want to stand next to on the subway, much less meet under romantic pretexts.  Validating this is my now-passé MySpace account, the inbox of which is regularly filled with tempting solicitations like these:


Uh, "muah" to you too.  Consider that a kiss OFF. Why, indeed.


Is that a hint, Justin?  You want me to Yahoo messenger you?  Sorry, but apart from my oft-referenced beauty, I am not sure how much I'd have to chat about with a fella whose handle is "Sweeetdicwilly."  Usually because guys who imply they answer to a name like that usually have a dic/willy that is anything but "sweeet."


Well, that's a nice sentiment.  I cute and good looking.  I also, unfortunately for this dude, have an annoying habit of expecting my correspondents to use punctuation.  I am indeed a "very chill cool person" but I'm somewhat of an intellectual elitist in the sense that I expect my paramours to have mastered the basics of second grade grammar.


This is in reference to the picture of me straddling a male stripper's face.  I'd like to remind Fat Joe here that the gentleman in that photograph was paid to do that.  Although I can't see what Joe looks like from the neck down, I am willing to wager that he doesn't quite have the physique of Brad the Butterface Stripper and thus can't get into that line of work.  Keep wishing, Joe. 


Well, I don't get 200 e-mails like that a day, but I have banged a few lawyers here and there.  In fact, it would probably benefit my cause to bang a lawyer with some expertise in online free speech and defamation law, given some of my history with crazy dickheads and the civil court system.  However, given that this message completely failed to persuade me to MySpace him back, I can't imagine that this guy would do much to persuade a judge or jury on my behalf in court.  Not to mention I've never met a fuckworthy guy of any profession who essentially begged me to return his social networking message.  PASS.


I'm the sexiest woman on all of MySpace?  Even sexier than Tila Tequila?  NO WAY!  Too bad that given that overcompensating muscly topless photo of George, I'm willing to bet that he has THE smallest penis on this whole damn site!  Wow!!!


Ah, yes, you've got to love the guys trying to fix up a threesome on MySpace.  They're the ones who figure that dropping a few keywords like "naughty" and "curious" are a surefire method to get any bisexual chick into their pants.  And even though this guy looks like a bizarre amalgam of a fisherman from "Deadliest Catch" and a contestant on "A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila," I just can't be persuaded to go "play with" anyone who doesn't know that "a lot" is TWO WORDS.  Besides, like I'm going to the Bronx.  I broke up with a guy once because he moved to the Bronx.  Well, that, and he had weird nipples, didn't know how to use a condom, and said "cummed" instead of "came" (which REALLY bothered me for some reason), but the dealbreaker was the ride to the end of the D train I'd have to take to see him.  Fuck that.


Apparently not.  But that's probably because I don't e-flirt with small children.


Well, thank God.  I am glad that my looking good in all of my pictures is something to laugh out loud about.

 
Man, if I had a dollar for every time someone on MySpace saluted me with "hey sexy," I'd be a very rich woman.  Clearly all the Razzy Haters who like to tell me that I'm fat, old, or ugly haven't been spending enough time perusing my MySpace profile.

Anyway, between the random propositioning on MySpace and the rejects of yore from Friendster, I pretty much decided that if this is the kind of dating scene that materializes without even trying, I can't even imagine the kind of freaks that are on actual dating sites.  This supposition has been verified by every friend I know who has tried online dating.  Sure, a few of my friends have met the occasional awesome person this way, but they had to kiss a LOT of proverbial frogs first.  I've heard all sorts of stories.  One of my friends met someone who was actually a porn producer recruiting new talent.  Another friend met someone who claimed that he "didn't like fun."  My lesbian apprentice Twathopper has made one disastrous crazy bitch acquaintance after another thanks to her forays into online dating.  In fact, the only time she met a chick who WASN'T crazy, they became platonic friends and I ended up banging her.   Otherwise, Twathopper has racked up a resumé full of lunatics, but this didn't stop her from going online with a fresh sense of hope that maybe–just MAYBE–this time she might meet a nice, normal girl who was down to watch some female singer/songwriters performing live indie folk music and not cause her too much trouble.  

Unfortunately, she didn't get past signing in to Match.com before being repelled by the twats on there.  She first found this profile, and I think it identifies the exact problem with online dating: a complete lack of touch with reality on the part of the people engaged in this activity.

Yes, how can I make myself look attractive for all the lonely single lesbians on Match.com?  I KNOW!  I'll style myself like I just walked off a box of Massengill and give myself the most obnoxiously pretentious screen name possible.  Nothing turns on the ladies more than a recently douched "artsysociologis" who has conquered that not-so-fresh feeling.  

Once again, I firmly espouse my strong "internet dating is for losers" stance.  If you want to get laid, just suck it up like a normal, socially functional human being and go get drunk at a bar!

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# posted by Razzy @ 9:57 AM 3 Comments Links to this post

Thursday, August 14, 2008

 

Daily Douchebag: dumb dyke-alike lesbians offended by me


Name: for fun, I'm calling them Tegan and Sara (originally probably Sarah and Sarah)

DOB: looked to me like around 1984

Occupation: getting offended

Hometown: probably somewhere in the Midwest that allowed them to develop such massive chips on their shoulders

Current residence: I'm going to take a wild guess and say Park Slope, Brooklyn, New York

Douchebaggery: The other night, I attended my usual Tuesday night bar trivia (where my team took the top prize for the second week in a row–HOLLA!). Next to our barside table, a pair of lesbians had bellied up to play trivia with the bartender's assistance. I took one look at these bitches and knew I wasn't going to like them. I obviously had no problem with the fact that they're gay, as I've got my own reserved seat at the sushi bar. I knew I wouldn't like them because of the type of lesbian they both were, which I know well from Smith College. They both looked like they were having a Hoegaarden to prefunk for a Dolores O'Riordan impersonator convention and were regarding everyone with the same insufferably condescending expression, as if any moment they were about to break out with a furious passive-voice tirade about everyone else's heteronormative ideals. They were the kind of dykes who act like they invented lesbianism, and treat their queerness as their sole distinguishing trait. They were so into clubbing everyone over the head with their politicized muff-diving inclinations that their trivia team was even cleverly named "The Lesbians."

After destroying The Lesbians at trivia, we turned our attention to Olympic women's gymsnatchtits. I started going off about my desire to do the nasty with Nastia Liukin, and discussed her merits versus LL Cool Jew's designated crush Alicia Sacramone. When these ladies both fucked up their floor routines, I said something like, "Don't worry, ladies, you can find comfort by sticking your faces in each other's twats back at the athlete's village." At this point, Lesbian #1 leaned over to me and demanded, "Excuse me, but are you a lesbian?" I could tell that she was about to call me a homophobe if I answered in the negative.

"I'm bisexual," I said bitchily. "WHY?"

Lesbian #1 didn't give any answer for demanding to know my sexual orientation prior to bitching at me for making assumptions about Alicia Sacramone's pussy-eating predilections. Instead, she turned to Lesbian #2 and exchanged a flurry of scathing whispers. They were probably thrown, as on one hand, they couldn't call me a homophobe since I just freely admitted that I eat at the clam bake. On the other, they probably didn't consider me a wholly legitimate gay person since I allow evil men to pollute my sacred female space with their patriarchal penises. I shrugged and went back to addressing the Sapphic sexual practices of Team USA, after underscoring my bisexuality by making out with CuteClothes for their viewing pleasure (and my personal gratification...CuteClothes is a hot-ass bitch.)

The Lesbians settled their tab and prepared to leave. As they were stomping out, Lesbian #2 said (while walking quickly past) to me, "Just so you know, what you were saying was, like, really offensive." Then she tried to keep walking.

Oh no the bitch didn't just try to give me an ambulatory dressing-down! I wasn't having that, so I said, "No, HOLD UP, bitch. You don't get to just walk away from that. That offends ME. What the fuck business do you have being offended by what I'm saying? I wasn't even talking to you!"

"You can't just talk about whether those women are lesbians. You have no right to discuss lesbian issues in a straight bar!"

I don't have the right to discuss lesbian issues in a straight bar? Last time I checked the Bill of Rights, there weren't any exceptions to the First Amendment specifying that, especially considering these twats wore their lesbianism like a damn power suit. "That's pretty awesome coming from a bitch who named her trivia team 'The Lesbians'!" I retorted.

"That's different," she said. "We were being funny!"

"And I wasn't?" Sha right. I'm way funnier than these humorless cunts. "I see...only YOU and your dyke-alike are allowed to talk about gay chicks in this 'straight bar.' That makes a lot of sense. You're not only dumb, you're also a hypocrite! That offends ME."

This didn't go over well. Probably my use of the word "dyke," pointing out her hypocrisy, and implying that she wasn't smart all combined to make this professionally angry bitch REALLY mad. She unleashed a torrent of roundabout "like, that is so wrong" gender politics babble, and eventually implied that since I was sitting at a table of three other heterosexual chicks and one dude, I was not in a position to discuss the taboo topic of hot girl-on-girl.

"Really? A table full of straight girls, huh?" I turned to my table. "Ladies, raise your hand if you are gay." I thrust my hand in the air, and was joined in asserting my enthusiasm for pussy by CuteClothes and Twathopper. "See, I have more lesbians in my entourage than you do. I guess nobody told us we aren't allowed to mention it here in this 'straight bar.'"

Lesbian #2 couldn't argue with our numbers, so she instead changed the subject to the fact that she thinks I'm a chauvinist pig. "You were talking about those women like OBJECTS. Sexuality is a very powerful and complex blah blah blah blah...and you were just, like, CHEAPENING it. That's just what men do!"

I was about to snap back that I love men and she would hardly be the first to point out my many masculine qualities, but at that point the bartender told us to break it up. "Alright, Sappho, back to Brooklyn with you," I said. "We can continue this next week if you deign to leave the Isle of Lesbos for these straighter pastures so we can kick your flat ass in trivia again."

"Oh, WE'LL BE BACK!" she shot at me, and grabbed her girlfriend and stormed out.

"I look forward to it!" I shouted after her. I really do look forward to her return. I used to get in arguments with uppity women's studies lesbians who needed to be taken down a peg all the time back at Smith, and it's been too long since I've had a good old-fashioned Razzy Crude Cussout versus Queer Studies Gibberish smackdown. Please come back to the Joshua Tree next Tuesday so I can own you again, Tegan and Sara!

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# posted by Razzy @ 5:26 AM 2 Comments Links to this post

Wednesday, August 06, 2008

 

Daily Douchebag: Katy Perry


Name: Katheryn Hudson

DOB: October 25, 1984

Occupation: dumbass

Hometown: Santa Barbara, California

Current residence: Hollywood, California

Douchebaggery:  When I was visiting my friend LL Cool Jew a while back in New Orleans, we were driving around and there was a commercial on the rap station (which in the Crescent City is basically an all-Lil' Wayne channel).  "Let's listen to the teenager station!" she said, and changed the channel.  Then that "I Kissed a Girl" song came on the radio.  LL Cool Jew stopped compulsively twirling her hair and a look of horror came on her face as she listened to the lyrics.

"You're my experimental game?"  LL Cool Jew asked.  "Is this for fucking real?"

"Dude, this is like the #1 download on iTunes, and it has been for a while," I said.

"It's not what good girls do?  I hope my boyfriend don't mind it?!"  LL Cool Jew continued, looking progressively more disgusted.  "I didn't know exploitive faux lesbianism was the new rebellion!"

"Go figure, dude," I said.  "Thanks to Tila Tequila, all the dumb bitches on MySpace are now aware that making out with chicks is a great way to get guys' attention."

LL Cool Jew continued to shake her head with a look of stern disapproval on her face (thank God she didn't hear Katy Perry's OTHER song, "Ur So Gay"), and cleansed our musical palette by switching back to the Lil' Wayne channel.   She's also not the first of my friends to find Katy Perry's ode to dyke-to-be-liked offensive.  FalloniusMonk summed it up perfectly.  "Enough of this Katy Perry horseshit.  This isn't about Chapstick.  It's about pussy."

I think that myself and all my friends with an ounce of gayness are deeply annoyed that a former gospel singer like Katy Perry has appropriated lesbianism as some kind of cheap ploy for attention.  Although I generally bust on lezzies regularly and act very cavalier about my predilection for some hot girl-on-girl, being (partially) gay is still a struggle sometimes.  When I was trying to cope with being a lesbian teenager in Catholic school, I read a lot of (Smith alumna) Sylvia Plath and filled about fifty notebooks with appalling poetry and spent a lot of time crying.  I felt like a freak and my psychotic ex-girlfriend did little to make coming to terms with my sexuality any easier.  Even as an adult, it took me a long time to admit to being bisexual, and sometimes that is still difficult to explain to people.  Hearing Katy Perry sing about it like it's a fucking trucker hat or a vintage t-shirt or some other lame edgy hipster accessory makes me want to smack a bitch for her audacity.

What I think is even more irksome is the fact that all the kiddies have latched onto Katy Perry's "Look at me, I made out with some random chick" schtick like it's some kind of anthem for nonconformist rebellion.  An entire generation of Ramones shirt-wearing emo assholes now think that dyking out is tantamount to Manic Panic hair dye or studded belts in terms of showing their boyfriends how fucking original and countercultural they are.   Memo to Katy Perry: you are not Kathleen Hanna, and you're not doing lesbians any favors with your bullshit.   You are a disingenuous, fake-ass bitch, and you make it harder for those of us who not only like kissing girls, but like fucking them too.  Furthermore, you haven't discovered anything new or groundbreaking.  You've just popularized what pornographers have known for years.  Most guys like watching girls hook up with other girls.  It's not novel or unique, and it only serves to teach the knuckle-dragging fucktards who listen to Z100 that it's acceptable to trivialize lesbianism for the sake of obnoxious attention whoredom.

I have no problem with people experimenting sexually, or talking about it.  What I do have a problem with is Katy Perry taking decades of struggles for gay rights and reducing it to the MTV audience's equivalent of a wrestling gimmick.  Until she writes a song called "I Ate a Pussy," Katy Perry needs to go back to shopping at Hot Topic and shut the fuck up. 

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# posted by Razzy @ 7:32 AM 3 Comments Links to this post

Monday, August 04, 2008

 

Twathopper dodges an ugly fake-lesbian bullet

My lesbian apprentice Twathopper has had a terrible time meeting decent girls, and initially I attributed this to her fishing in the most stagnant, appalling of all online dating sites: nerve.com.  This has netted her boring cupcake-baking marathon bloggers, cancer-faking professional babysitters, and militant lesbians into feigned lactation play.  However, she's asked me a million times about how she's supposed to meet "normal" lesbians if NOT on the internets, because it's not like there's a bunch of girls running around the bars with signs reading "Hello, My Name is Lesbian."  Her visits to lesbian bars have been disastrous.  First, she went to Cattyshack with a straight couple, and "straight-up cereally bugged" and fled when a cute girl approached her.  Then, I told her that maybe it would be better if she didn't have an audience, and took her to Cubby Hole with me.  I assured her I wouldn't be all "let's watch Twathopper hit on girls" because I would be too busy hitting on girls myself, and at the very least she could follow my lead.  Unfortunately, both our trips to the Cubby Hole ended badly.  The first started off promising, with me chatting up a couple semi-hot chicks about "The L Word" (which I've never seen, and which normally would make me roll my eyes and say "how predictable," but I can bullshit about lesbian chic to set a good example and possibly get laid myself), but ultimately turned frightening and resulted in a terrified escape from a pushy bulldyke who locked me in her sights and proceeded to assault me with Jamba Juice giftcards.  The second time was after Pride, where, while I was being invited to join some skank at an orgy-at-sea, Twathopper was feeling sad and depressed.  I declined the offer to join a bacchanal on the Hudson and took my little apprentice home for pizza and Bev Niner.

Therefore, I told Twathopper that if the bar scene isn't going to work for her, she has to meet lesbians the same way everyone else meets people: through friends, at parties, at work, at work events, or wherever else you might be able to socially network in life.  "Don't you know any lesbians?" she asked.  "You did go to Smith College!"

"Yes, of course I know lesbians, dude," I said.  "The problem is, they're all coupled up!  You know how the lezzies roll.  Most of the time it's first date, then cohabitate."

I spent a while racking my brain trying to think of some hot single lesbians who Twathopper hadn't already met, and couldn't think of any.  I figured it couldn't hurt to throw out a wide net, so I asked another dude I was friends with at the time.  I used to call him DanRubin on this site, but he was really mean to me and no longer deserves a Bev Niner-based Razzy name.  Since I think he's a total fucking asshole because he hurt my feelings, made me cry, and inspired my breaking out some old lesbian poetry, I'm going to instead refer to him as "Minuteman."  Not only did he go to UMass, but this is an accurate description of his manly prowess or lack thereof in the bedroom.  At the time, however, he and I were still friends and we were IM-ing, and considering he was always trying to have threesomes (and failing, since I know from experience that a fella needs more than three thrusts' worth of stamina to please one woman, much less two), I thought he might at least know some ladies who had considered the idea of banging a girl.  At any rate, I figured it didn't hurt to ask:
Razzy: dude do you know any cute lesbians who are looking to be set up on a date?
Minuteman: nope
Razzy: doh
Minuteman: i know a kinda geeky girl who's curious to experiment with girls
Razzy: hmmm
Razzy: this is not for me by the way
Razzy: my lesbian trainee is having trouble meeting other lesbians
Razzy: is that the girl you were trying to have a threesome with?
Minuteman: yeah
Minuteman: she was down but the other girl chickened out
Razzy: loser
Razzy: well my friend loves tori amos and solstice-ass shit like that
Razzy: she just came out as a lesbian
Razzy: but she has yet to close the deal
Razzy: i have given her advice and advice and advice
Razzy: i even instructed her step-by-step on "how-to" perform oral on a chick
Razzy: but she lets these dumb broads she goes out with spend all their time talking about their feelings
Razzy: so i'm trying to get her laid
Minuteman: nice
Razzy: and i don't do mercy fucks so i'm not going to handle it myself
Minuteman: can you see this profile
Minuteman: [some bitch's Facebook profile with a pic featuring this Brobdingnagian girl in boxy hipster glasses posing with a shorter girl sporting an absolutely ginormous set of tits]
Razzy: yes
Minuteman: the girl in the glasses is the wanna be lesbian
Razzy: hmmmm
Razzy: and jesus, she's tall
Razzy: the shorter girl has a hot rack
Minuteman: i agree
Razzy: i guess the glasses girl isn't ugly
Minuteman: she has a sweet body and is very horny
Minuteman: i like both those qualities
Razzy: yes those are both admirable
Razzy: she does appear to have a hot bod
Razzy: well, does she want to go hang out with a trainee lesbian to experiment with?
Minuteman: i told my wanna be lesbian friend that your friend would contact her through facebook if interested
Razzy: what?!
Razzy: oh shit, i don't know how that will work
Razzy: i'll have to give twathopper a real pep talk
Razzy: half her problem is nerves
Razzy: is your friend down?
Minuteman: she's in training too
Minuteman: it'll be fun
Razzy: i'm trying to write a letter right now
Razzy: for twathopper to send this broad
Razzy: ugh in spite of trying to convince twathopper this sounds like a great idea
Razzy: i NEVER cold call pussy like this on facebook
Minuteman: do you want her real email address
Razzy: no that's even creepier
Minuteman: word
Razzy: what do you think of this:
Razzy:"This may seem kind of weird since we've never met, but to make a long story short, my friend Razzy was talking to her friend Minuteman, and they seemed to think we might get along. I don't usually do this, but do you want to test this theory over drinks sometime?"
Minuteman: perfect
Razzy: it's not creepy or weird?
Minuteman: A. is there a way to do this that isn't creepy or weird
Razzy: i know
Minuteman: B. Who cares? it's not us
As it turned out, Twathopper finally mustered the gumption to Facebook message this chick amidst a lot of "OMGOMGOMGOMGs" sent my way on Gchat.  Naturally, the finely-tuned snippet of game I lent her worked, at least at first.  This chick agreed to meet her, and it turns out that she and Twathopper had some professional interests in common.  Twathopper does PR, and at the time, one of her clients was a luggage company.  This chick wrote for a luggage magazine or something, so they exchanged a few flirtatious e-mails and actually agreed to get together and discuss baggage on their first date.  If that's not lesbian romance, I don't know what is.

Unfortunately, like most straight "curious" girls without an enthusiastic guy around to hassle them, BaggageBitch decided that lesbianism was more the stuff of fantasies for her.  She sent Twathopper an e-mail the day of their much-anticipated date, and claimed that she broke her toe and was immobilized.  Twathopper and I both suspected that what actually broke was more likely her nerve.  We both said, "Fuck that cowardly wannabe dyke and the one-pump chump Minuteman dick she rode in on!" and directed our energies elsewhere.  Eventually, Twathopper did get laid, and she's currently scouting several prospects for further conversation about Ingrid Michaelson/advanced muff diver certification.

Well, as it turns out, Twathopper lucked out big time.  On Friday night, Twathopper was going to the Yankees game, and sent me the following text:   "Dude i walked past that baggagebitch chick on the way 2 the game: She totes recognized me.  Haha.  It's totes kewl she pussied out: Trust!"

I snickered.  BaggageBitch wouldn't be the first person on Facebook to have a profile picture that makes her look way more attractive than she is in real life.  I responded: "Ew was she butt?"

Twathopper replied: "Kinda.  I mean not butt ug but not cute."

It's pathetic enough to be one of those girls that is always giving lip service to wanting to bang chicks and then backs out when an opportunity presents itself.  It's even worse when the chick you ditched on a blind date sees you and thinks you are too ugly (or at least insufficiently cute) to hit anyway.  No wonder BaggageBitch looked away and hurried off; she knows Twathopper is way too hot to L her worthless P.  We're getting you a hot date to that Tegan and Sara concert yet, Twathopper!

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# posted by Razzy @ 5:52 AM 0 Comments Links to this post

Thursday, July 03, 2008

 

Adventures in Labia-sitting

OK, so I'm trying my damndest (with the ever-so gracious support of Razzy) to be a good solstice. But more importantly, I'm trying to be a successful solstice. And as the summer solstice just came and went, I should be in full bloom now. Alas, if you're staying on top of the awesomeness that is this blog, it's quite apparent that I'm average at best. It's been over a year at proactively courting the ladies and I've come up quite short...dismally short: "FEED ME" short. Although I've earned my stripes, I've yet to find a hot piece that's at the very least available, and at the very most, simply not "Girl, Interrupted" crazy or too scared/confused to pursue anything that has the semblance of an adult, sexual relationship. I'm what many would call a novice lesbian. So much so that often times I feel like I'm 15 years old, in high school and just starting the dating process altogether- which I guess in essence I am. So I might as well write this post like the 15 year-old 'lil girl I've become.

Hi everyone, I'm Twathopper. I like girls. And I just started dating them, but I don't have very good taste when it comes to them. I like crazy girls. And huge nerds. Oh, and since I'm quite new to this, I still mess around with guys. Well, not anymore, but I used to. And I pick much better dudes than I do chicks. Oh well! Here's the rundown of how it's been going since last May:

My first attempt at snaggin a chick: Writersprout. Me framing an article. Enough said. Or better said, I got dicked so hard with no actual "dicking", or L'n P for this paticular matter.

Ex-boyfriend of 6 years: I'll call him WuTang, because he loves them. He has the tattoo to prove it, although he'll deny it. Anyway, we had a nice, one night fling last summer that needed to occur. I was solidly assured I was never, and never would be, in love with him. But I got some, and TRUST I needed it. See above.

Old dude: After that I made some alcohol related decisions, and old dude was one of them. I'm not saying it was a bad decision, because I found him to be quite smooth and good looking, regardless of him being 20 years my senior. Plus he had that Southern charm. Oh did I mention he's a client of mine? Maybe not the best decision I've made, but as soon as he mentioned that he saw Fleetwood Mac in their heyday (ya know when Stevie Nicks was the hottest piece going in the 70s), my pants literally dropped to the floor. But I found out quickly he was more lesbian than I'll ever be when I discovered all he wanted to do was L my P all night. I basically had to tell him to do me. And then even that was solsticey. Jesus. 

Sarah Babysits: This was all about the Babysitter who cried "cancer." Before that happened though, I was just a sucker for a hot chick–and she was completely my type. But I'm the asshole who let her hang around off and on for a good 6 months, because I just couldn't believe someone could lie about cancer. Or as I like to say, I just can't wrap my brain around crazy. 

The Bartender: During most of these flings, there has been one constant, and that's my bartender friend. He's sweet, normal, good looking, nice to my friends, complimentary, available when I want him to be and scarce when I want that. Oh and did I mention the free drinks? It's awesome and probably everything I'm looking for. Too bad he's a dude and I can't fall for him. Damn.

SuperLez: Two words: FEED ME. Again, enough said. Oh wait, more can be said. What Razzy left out, that I find to be a HUGE, HUGE dealbreaker, is we barely made out. Yep, this bitch found making out to be enormously intimate, and because she just knew it was physical between us, she barely would. LOSER. And if you know me, you know I love to make out, so I barely needed the "Feed Me" excuse to cut her loose. TRUST she ain't no Julia Roberts and I for damn sure am not Richard Gere.

So there you have it, that 's my abysmal year of dating. With the exception of the few nice guys in there (well not really because they're GUYS), the proof is in the solstice pudding that I'm pretty much the worst lesbian around. Or if I wanna be nice to myself, a slow learner. But I'm trying and Razzy is an excellent mentor. So if you guys know any hot, normal, available solstices, send 'em my way and I'm sure I'll be totally uninterested as that's completely not my type.

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# posted by Twathopper @ 5:09 AM 4 Comments Links to this post

Tuesday, July 01, 2008

 

Talk ridiculously to me

The other day, I was Gchatting with Twathopper and she was telling me some of the more offensive things her ex-paramour Superlez pulled during their brief stint dating. Apparently, although Superlez didn't seem very interested in having real-life sex, she loved phone sex. Granted, this was the lamest phone sex ever, since she spent 99% of it telling Twathopper how cute she was and what she liked about her. In the brief times they actually managed some light physical coupling, Superlez apparently also liked to dirty talk. One time she started bossing Twathopper around about her "cunt," and while the C-bomb doesn't really bother me, it's not one of Twathopper's favorite words and she had to argue with Superlez about whether or not it turned her on. Another time, Superlez pulled one of the grossest, most off-putting instances of dirty talk I've ever heard. Whilst hovering over Twathopper, she said, "Feed me!"

"Uh...what?" Twathopper didn't know what she was talking about.

"Feed me!" repeated Superlez, who then began suckling on Twathopper's tits like some sort of demented baby from hell. This was such a huge turn-off that Twathopper–in spite of being hard-up for lezzie sex–stopped their hooking up in its tracks, because in her words "I'm not into baby fantasies and shit" as having "a grown woman suck on my tits like a fucking infant" was off-putting to say the least. As she put it, "equating the adult act of sex with children" is "not hot at all," and I couldn't agree more. For one thing, I hate kids, and for another...if there's one thing that doesn't go together it's HOT SEX and IMITATING CHILDREN. Another one of my friends was dating this guy a while back, and he used to baby talk all the time. It was mildly disturbing enough that he would routinely say things like "I wuv wu, sweetie-weetie" and stuff like that in front of her friends at bars and restaurants. In the bedroom he was even worse. He would say stuff to her like "Baby, will wu sucky wucky my cocky wocky?" When she told me about this, I thought that if any dude ever said something like that to me, my first response would be, "EW! Oh my GOD, NO! Never again!"

When it comes to dirty talk, there's a fine line between hot and creepy that clearly some people cross with flying leaps. I have certainly engaged in my fair share of dirty talk, but luckily I've never had anyone try to baby talk me in bed. I have, however, on many occasions had some sexy talk turn really fucking funny quickly. Obviously, I'm the kind of person who gets turned on by humor and laughing, so this isn't a problem except in the realm of phone sex. I am terrible at phone sex because I get about two lines deep and start cracking up. In the past I've tried a few times and haven't gotten farther than "...and then I pull your giant, hard cock out of your pants..." before I dissolve into giggles like the totally mature, sophisticated lady that I am. I'm a lot better at dirty talk when I'm actually getting it on, but even then I sometimes can't control myself if something surprisingly hilarious comes out.

For example, the guy who told me that I performed fellatio with a great deal of "flair" made me snicker on his dick, which could have turned into a very bad situation with my gag reflex had I been deep throating rather than doing some between-swallowing head work at that particular moment. I could not control the full belly-laugh that happened when this dude (who I apparently lured back to my web of sin and depavity with my incredibly seductive rendition of the Scorpions' "Wind of Change") blowing his load all over my ass shouted "DRAAAAIIINAGE!" Luckily he had a good sense of humor and wasn't put off by my clutching my side laughing at his money shot move. I've had some other instances of pretty hilarious dirty talk, as well. One of my former booty calls would always start fucking me and demand, "TELL ME ABOUT MY COCK!" I'd then proceed to come up with all sorts of outlandish stuff, like comparing his dick to a Johnsonville brat, telling him to buck like a raging stallion, and complimenting his ability to drill me like a Texas oil rig. Another dude I was dating would always ask me to "play with his chest," which was code for giving him vicious titty twisters. Seemingly pinching his nipples encouraged him to say incredibly ridiculous stuff along the lines of "I'm going to split you in half with my big black snake, girl" and "I'm fucking you so deep my dick's going to come out the top of your head." And yet another dude who was apparently really into artistic ejaculation techniques asked if I wanted some jewelry before giving me a pearl necklace. And yet another Mr. Right Now who I dated for a few months back in Seattle told me that my pussy tasted like the duck sauce Chinese restaurants give you to dip egg rolls in (I disagree...I think my pussy–like most pussy–tastes like a milder version of salt and vinegar potato chips).

I'm somewhat amazed, however, that I seem to have way more stories about this than most of my friends. This is in large part due to the fact that I'm the most open about my sluttery, and I seem to attract ridiculous sexual partners more than my friends. This makes sense, because I'll be the first to admit that I'm pretty ridiculous myself. I asked JerseyGirl, who has done enough silly drunk things to last a lifetime, and the best she could think of was that her boyfriend sometimes says how hot she is "in an 'i'mgonnablowmyloadanyminute' kind of way." I also asked this lovely girl I'll call Tits because she has the hottest natural rack I've ever seen in my life. Tits always has to leave everything early so she can fuck her boyfriend, and while she admitted to trying to convince her boyfriend to let her peg him (he declined), she couldn't think of anything funny that happened with her man. Since she then had to go fuck her boyfriend, I told her to get some dirty talk going on and report back. I have yet to be debriefed. At least FalloniusMonk proved to me that she shares my ability to attract the crazy dirty talk. One time, she was hooking up with some dude who "in the same breath" explained that he was a descendant of Mark Antony and wondered if they could still work together IF THEY WERE MARRIED! Because of their semi-work relationship and his obvious craziness, she elected to never hire him for freelance work again. Another time, "a crazy dyke" asked her if she liked fighter jets in the middle of sex. Sadly, FalloniusMonk did not indicate her love for F-16s by popping in "Highway to the Danger Zone" for the rest of their tryst. Then again, nobody ever accused Kenny Loggins of writing effective lesbian sex jams. Still another time, she fucked some girl in a church parking lot, and the girl asked if she thought Jesus was watching. Well, in Catholic school they taught me that Jesus is basically everywhere, so probably...but I can't imagine he'd be doing anything besides wanking it hard to some hot backseat girl-on-girl in the church parking lot. FalloniusMonk I'm sure came up with some similar don't-worry-about-Jesus-worry-about-lesbian-sex sentiment since she's a pro ho at closing the deal with the ladies, or as she puts it, "Can this just happen? Instead of the Katy Perry horseshit? This isn't about chapstick, it's about pussy!"

Anyway, while it's fun to hit the sheets and do a little dirty talk, in my experience it's actually seldom as dirty as it is either hilarious or creepy. I'm sure some of y'all have stories of your own, and I invite you to share. I suspect that there's a lot more silliness (or possibly creepiness) with the sexiness than sexiness alone. Share, bitches!

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# posted by Razzy @ 7:07 AM 2 Comments Links to this post
 

Daily Dude I Want to Hit: homos


Name: the gays and gayelles!

DOB: same as humanity

Occupation: totally ruling

Hometown: everywhere

Current residence: everywhere!

Why I Want to Hit that Hotness: So Sunday was Pride, and as always, it was a drunken great time.  It's hard to be in a bad mood around thousands of gays during Pride because the atmosphere is so buoyant and joyful.  Besides, being part lesbish myself, I have gone through the difficulties that most hommasekshuls probably face at one time or another: feeling like a freak, a pervert, a hellbound sinner, etc.  Pride is great because everyone just celebrates who they are without reservation, and has a fucking blast.  I have nothing but respect for the way gays can party their faces off with regard to who they are.

What I have less respect for is the proliferation of ugly-ass lesbians.  I just do not understand why so many dykes just don't keep themselves up.  There were more fat-ass harpies in stretch pants and pizza-faced trolls than I could shake a Pride flag at.  While I made good on my promise to Twathopper to point out some of the ladies who did not fall into the category of "butch" or "dykes on bikes," I was less successful in pointing out some regular-looking lesbians who were actually attractive.  Before the parade started, J-Sexy, I'mNotRussianGoddammit, Twathopper, Twathopper's friend (who I'll call CuteClothes because she's a snappy dresser...the last time I saw her she was rocking this adorable pair of heels and Sunday she was stunting in this hot-ass strapless dress), and myself went to this place down Seventh Avenue a couple blocks from the parade route for outdoor brunch, and we could not get over the sheer number of lesbians slacking heavily in the personal maintenance department.  First off, a lot of ladies need to eat more pussy and less McDonald's, because there were some morbidly obese broads out in force.  Unfortunately, said fat-ass broads were the ones who seemed to think that either white lycra stretch pants or a stripper-esque bra/miniskirt combo were appropriate attire for their size 22 asses.  Second, a lot of the girls who WOULD be attractive were not making an even minimal effort to keep themselves up.  I'd see what appeared from down the street to be a cute girl heading our way, only to realize that girlfriend needs to hit the Proactiv solution something serious when she'd get up close.  The general sloppiness of the average lesbian wandering around was emphasized by the impeccably groomed gay men juxtaposed beside them.  The group of super bitchy fags at the table next to us heard J-Sexy and I crowing about Tila Tequila's "snap-on tits," instantly became our friends, and we spent a solid hour making fun of the personal style choices of passing lesbians.

"Hey, I'mNotRussianGoddammit," said J-Sexy.  "There's a girl for you.  She looks kind of alternative and she has short hair."

We all looked to see this girl in a torn, dirty shirt, a pair of stained cutoffs, and a short, tousled mop of greasy hair.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"  asked I'mNotRussianGoddammit.  "I don't like HOMELESS girls!"

"J-Sexy, that bitch DOES look like a vagrant.  And she's wearing a FANNY PACK!"  I argued in I'mNotRussianGoddammit's defense.

"Fanny packs are in now!  They're retro," said J-Sexy.  "And anyway, she's not a vagrant...she's just grunge!"

"Grunge?!  What is this, 1993?  Dude, sorry, but I left my old Alice in Chains shirt back in my FRESHMAN YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL!"  I said to J-Sexy.  I felt it was important to argue in I'mNotRussianGoddammit's defense, since she's a hot piece and can certainly do better than indigent lesbians caught in an early '90s time warp.

Anyway, after about two hours of this, we decided to actually go check out the parade.  That was thwarted by a sudden torrential rainstorm, from which we took shelter in the nearest bar.  Unfortunately, this bar catered so strictly to a male clientele that not only were all the bartenders wearing nothing but tighty whities, there were Sistine Chapel-esque paintings of a host of chiseled, muscle-fag cherubim on every wall and cheesy house music blaring at an eardrum-rupturing volume.  "I've got my eye on that vinyl jumpsuit over there," I said to Twathopper, who started laughing, because this is a line that Brandon Walsh used from the season 2 episode of "Beverly Hills, 90210" where Emily Valentine slips U4EA into his Fresca at the "underground club" AKA gay rave the gang attends.

"God, this place is such a sausage fest," noted CuteClothes.  At that moment, a group of lesbians walked in to escape the rain, and we noticed that a couple of them were pretty cute.  Unfortunately, they were all couples.  Typical.  I swear, it's easier to find a four-leaf clover growing out of a New York City sidewalk than a lesbian who is both single and attractive.

We finished up our beers, the rain tapered off, and we fled across Christopher Street to Kettle of Fish, a bar that is marginally more lesbish.  At least it's a more mixed crowd, anyway, in the sense that there were plenty of unattractive lesbians playing Galaga and watching the Euro Cup final.  We proceeded to drink heavily while we waited for my buddy El Polaco to march by with his group of gay Catholics.  He came by at the end of the parade, and by that time, we were shitfaced and plastered with "God Made Me Queer" stickers.  At that point, we bid goodbye to CuteClothes (too bad, because I was hoping I could work the "So, we both went to Seven Sisters schools...do the math" seduction angle with her), who wisely remembered that it was a school night.  The rest of us weren't so smart, and ended up going to Cubby Hole, the dyke bar where I was infamously hassled by the nefarious bulldyke Blu.  Luckily, Blu was not in attendance.  Less luckily, I was so shitfaced that I decided it would be a great idea to drink J-Sexy's overproof rum straight as we waited in line, resulting in me actually DANCING once I got inside.  Not only did I dance, I actually smoked a cigarette inside this tiny closet of a bar, and then proceeded to try to convince Twathopper to actually talk to this girl she thought was cute.  Sadly, Twathopper's alcohol consumption had caught up with her and she was rapidly devolving into a gloomy solstice depression.  I kept grabbing her chin and readjusting her facial posture, saying, "Chin UP, Twathopper!  Nobody wants to L a super-depressed P, girl!"  Unfortunately, she was too far gone, so I said goodbye to the girl I met who was trying to talk me into going to an orgy on some boat.  It's for the best, because while an orgy might be fun and an awesome story, I probably shouldn't accompany random bitches I just met onto a floating bacchanal full of strange lesbians from which there is no escape short of diving into the Hudson River.  I took Twathopper home for some pizza and some good old-fashioned lesbian processing about her feelings to lift her spirits.  I even watched a Tegan and Sara video on LOGO with her, and managed to turn her frown upside down once we switched on the choice "Beverly Hills, 90210" episode where Brandon embarks on a self-righteous crusade to block the High Point Center from replacing the Peach Pit.

I may not have gotten laid, and I may not have gotten my apprentice laid, but I know it was a great Pride when I was too fucking hung over and exhausted yesterday to even regale you with the tale and go off about how much the homos kick ass.

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# posted by Razzy @ 5:41 AM 0 Comments Links to this post

Monday, June 30, 2008

 

Post-party depression

I just spent the last two hours trying desperately to type something coherent about Pride, but unfortunately this just wasn't working.  I barely managed to type two shoddy paragraphs but alas, I think I might still be drunk.  All weekend I probably got a total of five hours sleep.  I planned to leave Pride at a reasonable hour yesterday, but then I met this cute bisexual chick who invited me to an orgy, which I had to decline because Twathopper's drunk self was starting to work herself into a gloomy lesbian fugue state.  I wound up taking her home to cheer her up with pizza, Miller Lite, and a few well-placed episodes of "Beverly Hills, 90210," and while maybe it would have been more impressive to end Pride by participating in an orgy with cute bisexual chicks, I wouldn't be any kind of decent lesbian mentor (or decent friend, for that matter), if I didn't take care of my girl in her time of need.  Therefore, I was up late drinking after spending approximately the last 48 hours drinking, and now my elderly almost-thirty-year-old ass is paying the price.  In fact, I tried to take a picture of my tits as a substitute for any real content and I couldn't even manage that.


Yeah...I'm a mess.  Not even a hot mess, but just a straight-up MESS this morning.  I look and feel completely and utterly busted.  In fact, I'm physically busted.  On Saturday, I ran out of lab through a torrential rainstorm and bit it on the stairs coming out of the building where I work.  Luckily my ample (hot) ass cushioned my fall somewhat, but now the aforementioned hot ass is a battered shitshow:


Therefore, I'm going to quit before I get even further behind.  Tomorrow I should have gotten my shit together enough to resume my routine of useless bullshittery, but for now I'm just going to pull the old shameless trick of posting links to useless bullshit I wrote before, but you should go ahead and read again.  In the spirit of Pride, the theme will be TOTALLY LESBISH!

Building a mystery: I still haven't found this missing vibrator.  As an added bonus, there's a whole tangent about how I'm not really bisexual.  Obviously I got over that big case of denial.

Three's company: Threesomes are for winners.  Trust this.

The proof is in the pussy-loving hat: Note that, based on her Smith College hat, I diagnosed Lindsay Lohan with a case of the carpet munching OVER A YEAR AGO.  Yes, you heard it here first!

More slutty lesbian beauty queens!: I'd be way more into the pageant circuit if these bitches actually did more drunken girl-on-girl

Rosie, leave the FUCKING LESBIANS out of it!: Rosie O'Donnell sucks and is a blight on the good name of muff divers everywhere

Daily Dude I Want to Hit: Dani from "A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila": Some love for every androgyny-loving lipstick lezzie I know

Help out with my strap-on: Thanks to all your helpful advice, I finally did learn how to bang a broad doggystyle

Daily Douchebag: Gayelle: The dumbest new way of saying "lesbian" ever

I'm kind of a lesbian: Bisexuality is confusing

The Same Old Ugly-Ass Broad Kind of Ladies Night: Lesbian parties are SOOOOO lame

Daily Douchebag: Rumors that I've gone totally gayelle: Never fear, fellas...I haven't lost my appetite for kielbasa

Lesbian riot!  Go Pioneers!: Oh, those predictably enraged Smith girls.

Daily Douchebag: shrinks: According to my ex-shrink, I'm a tranny!

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# posted by Razzy @ 6:31 AM 2 Comments Links to this post

Friday, June 27, 2008

 

LESBIANS, START YOUR VAGINAS!

This weekend is Pride, bitches! I'm especially glad Pride is coming up, because there's no better way to put a spring in your step after a dude treats you shabbily than to go bang a hotter chick than he could ever score (excepting self). Pride is the best pickings in the city, because EVERY lesbian worth her Georgia O'Keefe lilies shows up there. Hell, every gay person goes! The last time I was at Pride a couple years back, I totally flirted with some cute chicks, although then I wasn't yet remembering how fun it is to fuck girls, so I didn't take any action. Now, I'm ready to chat up some chicks and hopefully do what my friends refer to as "L'ing P," our shorthand for "licking pussy." Furthermore, it provides an excellent opportunity for Twathopper, my lesbian apprentice, to find a companion for the Teagan and Sara concert she really wants to attend with a date. Twathopper was a little gloomy about her prospects, so in a super-hot, all-girl, three-way Gchat, JerseyGirl and I doubled up to give her some confidence:
JerseyGirl: Twathopper, tegan and sarah are coming to nyc in october
JerseyGirl: maybe you should buy two tickets, proactively so that you can take a solstice with you
JerseyGirl: oh and actually sigur ros is coming to nyc too
Twathopper: i know about both
Razzy: call me when kells is swinging back this way
Razzy: dude jerseygirl, twathopper probs reads all the music ZINES that tell her these things
Twathopper: hahaha lol ZINES
JerseyGirl: twathopper, i think you should definitely buy 2 tix to tegan and sara
Twathopper: hahahaha
Razzy: yeah cereally
JerseyGirl: buy it and then you can take whatever solstice you are dating at the time
Twathopper: F you jerseygirl!
Razzy: the pussy will be eating out of your pants for those tix
Razzy: from now on you're going to get some decent snatch if it kills me
Razzy: we're gonna find you a GF at pride this weekend
Razzy: TRUST
Razzy: get tix to this show
Razzy: and find some hot twat at pride to squire along with you
Twathopper: let's find the ho first
Twathopper: then get the tix
Razzy: well when do the tix go on sale?
Razzy: if we pull a nice tuna out of the tank at pride for you
Razzy: you'll be living together by next week
Razzy: so problem solved
Razzy: i know how you solstae roll
Twathopper: hahahah lol
Razzy: in fact, you should rent the uhaul now
Twathopper: well i hope it's better than what i saw last year
Razzy: what, at pride?
Twathopper: which was a bunch of old dykes on bikes
Twathopper: and butches everywhere
Razzy: dude every queer in the city comes out for pride!
Razzy: see all the normal-looking girls mixed in with all the crusties?
Razzy: THOSE ARE THE NORMAL LESBIANS
JerseyGirl: i cannot wait to hear stories about l'ing p from bitches you met at pride
Twathopper: oh like me walking around
JerseyGirl: :P
JerseyGirl: haha that's the l p icon
Twathopper: what will i be doing then?
Twathopper: talkin to some chick about tori and live music probz
Razzy: talking to some girl about live music
Razzy: LOL
Twathopper: haha omg!
Razzy: well that'll work
Razzy: you're looking for a keeper
JerseyGirl: omg you guys are in solstice sync
Razzy: with the ladies, i'm all catch-and-release
Razzy: you get in the door, twathopz
Razzy: i get in the pants
Razzy: perf
Needless to say, Twathopper's pessimism about her prospects are misguided. However, I can completely understand where her negative energy is coming from. While our previous foray into the lesbian bar scene turned into an escape mission to free me from the clutches of a highly aggressive, Jamba Juice-giftcard toting bulldyke named Blu rather than the sex Twathopper was hoping for, she did manage to finally earn her stripes and L some P. I'm sure she did a great job thanks to my excellent coaching. Now that she's done it once, she wants to do it some more, preferably after listening to some live introspective female singer/songwriters perform their acoustic harmonies.

Unfortunately, apart from her lone evening of drunken passion, Twathopper's track record is not so great. She's dated a host of the most ridiculous bitches ever, although part of the problem is the fact that she dug up these obnoxious broads on Nerve.com. First there was Writersprout, a cupcake-loving open mic aficionado who sublets for fun and writes the world's most infinitely boring blog. Then, there was Sarah Babysits, a girl who babysits for a living and who actually faked a rare bone cancer to poke at Twathopper's soft spot for the sick and wounded. This was after she faked a dog bite to cover up a missed "text date" (shaking my head) due to a Vicodin coma. In response, JerseyGirl got hold of Twathopper's phone and texted back "did the dog eat your homework, too?", and Sarah Babysits was so stupid that she actually thought this was flirtatious. When Twathopper dumped her on account of "you need to focus on recovering from the rare Ewing's sarcoma you have, especially since you're being inexplicably treated for it by a gastroenterologist," Sarah Babysits experienced an almost instantaneous remission of her malignancy. Twathopper finally stopped responding to her texts after that. I can hardly blame her, because after months of talking and texting and processing, the thing these bitches had in common beside being incredibly lame is their seeming unwillingness to go further than second base. Twathopper had to get these hoes completely wasted to even be permitted a stray grasp of a shirt-covered breast.

Finally, there was Superlez, and this bitch is a piece of work. On their first date, within five minutes of sitting down with their drinks Superlez informed Twathopper that she'd "never been penetrated by a man." Then, after interrogating Twathopper on her experience or lack thereof, Superlez condescendingly asked her, "Do you have any questions about the community?" I don't recall appointing Superlez spokesperson for every chick who bangs chicks, and I frankly don't want some sort of vagina snob who obviously looks down her nose at bisexuals acting like the orientation supervisor for the girl-on-girl circuit. Twathopper was like, "What community? Lesbians? No!" Frankly, the only question Twathopper ever had about "the community" was "why don't any of these girls ever have sex?" Furthermore, any future questions could be undoubtedly directed toward one of the horde of Smith College graduates Twathopper rolls with. Then Twathopper mentioned that she has lots of straight friends, so Superlez informed her that "you're going to start resenting your hetero friends and their hetero ideals." Hopefully for JerseyGirl's sake, that prediction won't come true. I guess I'm in the clear since Superlez never cast any warnings about resenting friends for their bisexual ideals. I told Twathopper that she should throw that uppity dyke back to the online dating cesspool she pulled her out of, but as usual, she did not heed my advice.

My anti-Superlez stance softened a little when I learned that Twathopper got some finger action from her, and I figured that while she may be obnoxious, maybe she would at least get my apprentice over the figurative hump. Unfortunately, Superlez then decided their bedroom antics were going to plateau there, because she apparently has fewer lesbian skills than I had at 15. I mean, I wrote some appalling poetry back then, but it only took me about a week or two to graduate to L'ing P once we got the fingerbanging routine down. Instead of progressing sexually, Superlez stalled via completely sexless phone sex which Twathopper described as "telling me how hot I was" and "what she liked about me." I am not at all surprised that is an accurate description of lesbian phone sex. I bet that segued into an incredibly sexy description of all the boobmashing they could do. She also did a lot of sexless dirty talk that Twathopper did not appreciate, such as strange routines involving baby talked references to nursing to precede some breast suckling. GROSS. After all this hassle and for all her talk about being the biggest dyke at the sushi bar, Superlez still never went downtown, so Twathopper finally cut her loose.

However, she did not stop stalking Superlez via social networking sites, and yesterday sent me her MySpace page. Twathopper made me swear to the Goddess that I would not post a link to it (although I DESPERATELY wish I could), so I will just have to describe what to me looked like a bullet safely dodged. After squinting to read anything beyond Superlez's annoying profile wallpaper of a group of lesbians white-water rafting, I noticed that her sole interest was under (of course) music, and seemed to be limited to some Lisa Loeb wannabe named Ingrid Michaelson who Wikipedia describes as an "indie-pop singer/songwriter" and is "most notably" famous for having contributed 6 songs on the "Gray's Anatomy" soundtrack. She also counts Marlee Matlin among her "Top Friends," because like every predictable-ass pushy lesbo, Superlez loves "The L Word." She also probably has a crushing handshake and a collection of Dar Williams CDs. Other than that, Superlez just exhibits about fifty million pictures of either herself looking mysterious, or herself posing in various Brooklyn establishments with her new girlfriend who is CLEARLY a Nerve.com find judging by her mousy hipster appearance. She also seems to think that, despite her butt girlfriend, she's still quite the lothario as evidenced by her continued attempts to IM and text flirtatiously with Twathopper. IF ONLY I could post her picture and proceed to–in the words of Lil' Wayne–cool her ass down if she thinks she's hot shit, because while she isn't bad looking, the sheer volume of ridiculous brooding, contrived self-portraits make her as unattractive as her personality does within five minutes of meeting this silly twat.

Anyway, with such a dismal history of dating, I am pretty sure that Twathopper can't do any worse at Pride this weekend than the prostitutes she's already wasted ample time on. I'm sure we can find a slightly better broad than the extracurricular subletters, cancer fakers, and bossy self-appointed lesbian ambassadors she's been messing with. Surely we can find her some nice, normal Tori Amos fan for her to swap Lilith Fair stories with, commence cohabitation, and celebrate their love with a romantic Teagan and Sara concert.

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# posted by Razzy @ 6:12 AM 2 Comments Links to this post

Thursday, June 26, 2008

 

THE most embarrassing thing that I've ever done

Yesterday, I had one of the most upsetting instant message conversations of all time. To make a long and completely unnecessary story very short, I got a "no thanks, I'm not interested in you" in the form of talk about how my public discussion of my abortion makes this dude think I'm a totally unattractive and unlovable freak, and an itemized list of obvious problems with myself that this dude wanted no part of. Basically, it was the cruelest, most humiliating way of hearing "let's just be friends" of all time, and I was in a tremendously bad state afterwards. Don't get me wrong, I've certainly been in the position where a dude just wasn't feeling me, and sure, that makes you feel bad for about a week. Your ego is wounded and that sucks, but you get over it much sooner than later, and big fucking deal. It happens, and (especially when you're a narcissist like me) you get over it. However, I've never received a comprehensive summary of the human flaws I am most sensitive about as a means of saying "I'm just not feeling a re-do of the date we had almost a year ago." All I could do while discussing this–over IM–was try to save face and seem like I was merely embarrassed rather than profoundly hurt that this person actually thought that by telling me all about EVERYTHING that is wrong with me (to the point of quoting comments on this very blog saying that I'm too much of a slut to ever find a man who isn't a freak and then adding that such commenters "have my back") would be a kindness.

While this was actually pretty awful, I naturally acted like it was no big deal, and then called my friends in tears. The reason I talk about my abortion the way I do is because it is so unbelievably painful and difficult for me to deal with that the only way I know how to cope with it is to minimize its destructive power by making flippant jokes. Horrible things lose some of their sting when you can make fun of them. Being incredibly hurt by hearing that my sole coping mechanism for dealing with the worst thing that I've ever done is at the top of the list of reasons why I'm an undesirable freak is at least something that my friends can make fun of and thus help me deal with.
A couple of my friends came to my apartment to drink beers with me and discuss how awesome I am and how, while bringing up the fact that I talk about my abortion as a negative I somehow needed to hear about might be one of the coldest things they've ever heard of, we've all put ourselves out there and gotten burned BAD. Sometimes, this burning is in the stupidest, most humiliating, most vulnerability-exploiting way, and what can you do besides try to laugh about that? Everyone was talking about the most embarrassing thing they've ever done in these situations, and who had the most predictable bullshit embarrassing bad dating moves ever? Go figure...that was strictly in the realm of lesbian stories.

Twathopper said something like, "At least you actually slept with this fuck once. And at least you didn't go give some bitch who wouldn't even fuck you their inaugural article in Runner's World framed as a gift!"

While that IS pretty lame, in fairness, Twathopper was putting up with six months of extreme mindfuckery, and she was new to the clam bake. Novice lesbians always do stupid shit like that, and I know from experience. This actually made Twathopper seem sane and normal, because memories of my incredibly annoying high school poetry-writing lesbian phase flooded in, and I was like, "I think I've actually done something even more embarrassing than that. Holy shit, I think I actually have some poetry."

I have a box of crap from yesteryear containing a bunch of random photographs and letters and that kind of thing. One of these random items was a poem I wrote on September 13, 1994 per the date stamp. "I think that myself at age 14 almost 15 was even worse," I said. It's true; I was the most RIDICULOUSLY UNCOOL, TOTALLY INSANE teenage lesbian at a Jesuit high school ever. There is nothing that will drive a highly cognitive, sexually confused pubescent girl nuts like a hefty dose of Catholic guilt and hormone-clouded thoughts of unrequited love. Poetry writing was the least of my problems. I actually did some light stalking, long letter-writing, and truck-egging (and how crazy teenage lesbian is that?) after my ex-girlfriend dumped me for this other girl in our class because she was the sole BDOC (big dyke on campus) in our high school and she basically could. Trust that I realized fifteen years ago how batshit crazy that sort of behavior is over someone not worth that much effort.

Anyway, I realized that even hearing that someone is not attracted to me because of how I've dealt with my most traumatic experience ever is nothing in terms of embarrassment when it comes to how I dealt with my high school lezzie drama. The poem I wrote is absolute proof, and it was actually educational, as I realized when I wrote this, I was still 14 and had obviously grown enamored with fucking my girlfriend. I swear it was when I was fifteen, and I remember the exact date (July 26, 1995) that I lost my virginity to a dude, but apparently I was hitting pussy when I was just 14 according to the date on the poem (*and OOPS, I was born November 17, 1978, so I was totally 15 when this was written...I just obviously suck hard at math, but I'm leaving it). That would be a lot more sexually precocious in an awesome way if it weren't for the UNBELIEVABLY LAME POETRY I WROTE! I couldn't even read this whole thing to my friends because I was so ashamed of it, and I'm certainly not printing the entire thing here now. I am probably more ashamed of this than ANYTHING I've ever done, and strictly because it's the most cloying, awful, totally pathetic teenage lesbian thing I've ever read. Here are some of the excerpts I can actually tolerate releasing to the internets-reading public, and...well, just uff da. UFF DA!

The window is cracked to our naked skin
And we would be cold but for the
Heat of the other woman's flesh.
The blankets, smell of old cigarettes, the keys
Why she loves me.

I mean, SERIOUSLY?!?! I WROTE THIS?!?!?! If I didn't know how incredibly psychotic and overwhelmingly lame I was as an insane faux-suicidal lesbian teenager, I wouldn't believe it myself. And it gets worse.

The act of marriage, sacred and unholy still
With another woman it is just dirt
White dirt and I know God is getting off
On it, that love I feel when her
Skin is plastered to mine with the
Exertion of what she gives for me

I may have had some sick Catholic issues and been in the midst of a sexuality crisis, but on the bright side, at least I was having apparently extremely hot lesbian sex (and by that, I mean mostly boobmashing with a sprinkle of clumsy fingerbanging and labia kissing). "Skin plastered to mine" and "Exertion of what she gives for me"? That sounds to me like some seriously sexy girl-on-girl, but this was obviously spoken by someone who was having sex for the first time. Now that I've had a considerable amount of experience on top of that, I recall that this bitch had no tits, and was constantly complaining that I wasn't hitting the right spot. Give me a break, I didn't even discover my own G-spot until I started fucking boys, and that was totally by accident. At least she apparently got the job done for me. ANYWAY! Back to the horrendous poetry. It really does make me feel better to take the worst times of my life and rag on them hard. How can I really take stuff like this seriously? I certainly cannot take it with the life-or-death gravity as I did when I wrote it.

And masked bitter envy in a cloak of
False and prefabricated guilt.
This is the tree of life up here
Hidden in the outdated closets and faded curtains
Swept back so we can gaze together
Out of the bright picture window and
Watch the light play pretty shapes on
Flattened stomachs, bare golden backs
Red-spotted breasts and long yellow hair.
God, she's so pretty.

Okay, now I am sufficiently embarrassed by this TOTAL doggerel (and yes, I know this particular poem doesn't rhyme and thus technically doesn't qualify as "doggerel," but I can't think of a better word that means "shitty fucking poetry") that I can't continue with the excerpts. This is truly the most horrifyingly shameful thing I've ever committed to paper, and while I'm mortified that I brought this into the world at all, I'm glad that I did for personal self-esteem reasons. From now on, every time I make some incredibly dumbass girl move and get emotionally bitch-slapped for it, I can just pick my original copy of "Forbidden" out of my "old shit" box and remind myself how much crazier I was fifteen years ago, and how I'm SO much better than all of that now. Lord knows my sex life with the ladies these days is a hell of a lot more Strap it On 5 than "God, she's so pretty," and there's certainly nothing I can do or say to any of my sexual partners that's crazier or more horribly shameful than what I wrote in 1994.

In the midst of an extremely hearty laugh, JerseyGirl was like, "Razzy, that poem really is cereally one of the most straight-up renarded things I've ever heard." Truly. And when things like this come up, where I am faced with the consequences of writing extremely personal, touchy things on the internets and having somebody misinterpret the kind of human being I am at my deep expense as a result, I can always rely on the fact that no matter what I do as an adult trying to deal with the complicated issues of life the best way I can, I'm never going to be as "cereally renarded" as I was when I was 14. And actually, that is greatly comforting. It's a huge relief to know that the lamest thing I've ever done has nothing to do with heavy shit like how I deal with my abortion and how other people respond to it. For the first time ever...thank you, inner poetry-writing retarded-ass lesbian. Thank you so fucking much.

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# posted by Razzy @ 8:29 AM 5 Comments Links to this post

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

 

"We Can't Explain It to Children" is the new "Fuckin' Faggots"

In this day and age, homophobia is just as unpopular as being gay used to be in mainstream society.  Therefore, homophobes have to resort to new and clever means of getting their bigotry out there to discriminate against gays without looking like a total asshole.  The most popular means of nice-guy gay bashing seems to be "how are we going to explain that to our kids?"  People saying this seem to have the attitude that children are incapable of comprehending same-sex hotness, which is simply not true.  When I was a little kid, I found the whole concept of homos mysterious and fascinating.  That's probably because I'm kind of gay, but I feel that even burgeoning non-bisexual skank hetero kids can handle the truth when it comes to the fact that some people are more inclined to jam with people of their own gender.  Normal, decent people should be able to accept that being gay isn't a big deal and explaining that gay people exist shouldn't be any different than explaining to a kid that the sky is blue and grass is green.

However, since the types of jackasses who have some dumb reason for hating the gays (probably because they ARE gay) seem to think otherwise, this now seems to be the order of the day for infringing upon gay people's civil rights.  Not too long ago, the staff at Safeco Field cracked down on hot lesbian makeout sessions at Mariners games because people couldn't explain it to their children.  Honestly, if I were a parent, I'd have a much harder time explaining to my kid why I spent money on tickets to watch the shittiest team in baseball while surrounded by ushers and homophobes who, judging by their reaction to two hot lesbian strippers sucking face, obviously hate fun.  Do parents feel the need to explain it to their kids when they see a heterosexual couple kissing?  Hell to the no!  So I can't understand why these idiots think saying "oh, my kids won't understand" is an adequate excuse for denying the queers these same rights.  Their kids probably already understand, at least if, like my parents, they buy them more Barbies than Ken dolls.  Half of my Barbies were sushi-suckers strictly because I was constantly suffering a severe shortage of Kens for them to make out with.  Besides, kids these days are savvy, what with their Grand Theft Auto and their MyFaces and Spacebooks and iPods and the like.  With internets access like kids have these days, they've probably seen hardcore anal orgies by the age of six.  Kids don't have a problem with gay people having the audacity to be gay in front of them, asshole parents; YOU have a problem with it!

This trend seems to have made its way across the pond to the UK, where Heinz pulled this commercial for "deli mayo" because of the extremely G-rated man-to-man kiss at the end of it.  The reason?  According to the Telegraph, because it was "offensive" and "unsuitable to be seen by children," partly because of the "difficulty" parents would have explaining it to their kids.


Are you kidding? This was "offensive"? I think the concept of caramelized onion-flavored mayo is more offensive than the completely nonsexual guy-guy makeout sesh at the end of the commercial.  And how is this difficult to explain?  Just say, "Imagine what would happen if your mom turned into a wisecracking New York deli guy" (although in fairness, if they really wanted to capture the authentic New York deli experience, the deli guy would be a short, sweaty man from Yemen and he'd be jabbering on his cellphone earpiece in rapid Arabic rather than calling anyone "sweet cheeks").  This is not difficult to explain.  What's more difficult to explain to the kids is that their parents are raging bigots who are so insecure and uncomfortable with homosexuality that they are using their children as a lame excuse because they don't have the balls to just admit that they don't approve of gay people.

What I'd like to know is what's coming next in this brave new world of pussified bigotry.  Are people going to start saying that interracial couples shouldn't be allowed to display affection in public because they won't be able to explain it to their precious children?  This is pathetic and I am offended that Heinz, Safeco Field, and whoever else are actually even listening to these homo haters, much less acquiescing to their demands. I almost prefer the days when homophobes ran about freely saying "faggot" and "dyke," since at least those pricks were up front about their views and not making halfassed excuses about their children in order to be a spiteful dick and still save face.  Reverend Fred "God Hates Fags" Phelps may be insane, but at least he's honest about his hatred, which is a lot more than I can say for these "concerned parents" who attribute their homophobia to an inability to communicate with their own children.  When Fred Phelps seems like a more upstanding, respectable citizen than you, that's when you've REALLY got problems.  Eat some same-sex genitals, you pussy gay bashers.

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# posted by Razzy @ 7:14 AM 3 Comments Links to this post
 

Daily Douchebag: "A Shot At Love 2 with Tila Tequila"


Name: "A Shot at Love 2 with Tila Tequila"

DOB: April 22, 2008

Occupation: being too big of a sham dating show in the world of sham dating shows for even me to like it

Hometown: MySpace

Current residence: MTV

Douchebaggery: "A Shot at Love 2 with (fake bisexual MySpace skank) Tila Thien Than Thi Nguyen Tequila" actually has many things I should love in principle, such as softcore girl-on-girl action, catfights, guido dudes beating down dudes with frosted hair, and commercial breaks advertising CD compilations with titles like Tropical Thunder. However, Tila Tequila sucks and so does her show. I, for one, am NOT interested in a shot at love with her busted ass.

I have gotten over this in the past to enjoy many contrived reality dating shows in which a completely unattractive person sorts through a bevy of skanks to find "love." I've watched "Flavor of Love" and "Rock of Love," and I used to have a standing date with my pal JerseyGirl to watch "I Love New York" because for a while we declared that "the best reality show on television" (not to be confused with the greatest show in the history of television, which always was and always will be "Beverly Hills, 90210"). I even watched the first season of "A Shot at Love" and somewhat enjoyed it, or at least enjoyed discussing Dani the firefighter with all my lesbo friends. However, after watching about 5 minutes of the show last night, I've come to realize that I actually LOATHE this show, and Tila Tequila is the least likable would-be paramour in the history of reality dating shows. I've come up with several reasons:

1. Tila Tequila looks like the kind of woman whose vagina secretes battery acid. Not to say that I'm not a total ho-bag myself, but compared to Tila, I seem like a sophisticated lady. I would never wear a midriff-baring plaid stripper costume to meet my boyfriend/girlfriend's parents, nor would I give said love interest's grandmother a lap dance to warm her up to the idea of bisexuality. Any chick who would displays poor judgment, and I can only assume that judgment applies to maintenance of her cooch. I may be a slut, but I am for the most part pretty good about condom use these days and I also get my shit checked out regularly to ensure that I remain, in Lil' Kim's estimation, "a disease-free bitch." I don't trust that Tila has been so judicious with regards to maintaining her own snatch, and not only do I have zero desire to wind up on a lifelong Valtrex regimen, I have zero desire the go anywhere near a vagina that may well have actual teeth.

2. Tila Tequila is disingenuous and has a tremendously inflated opinion of herself. She's not gay, she LOVES to make herself out like the world's busiest A-list celebrity when in truth she's a fake-titted whore who looks like some sort of bizarre amalgam of a Hello Kitty doll and a beat-down hooker working the track. Tila acts like her ideal boy/girlfriend would be able to "handle" Tila's extreme schedule of media whoring and writhing around for the cover of various car magazines marketed to dudes with small penises (TRUST...if your boyfriend is all into spoilers and engines and ground effects and customized car shit like that, RUN don't walk, because he's packing a chapstick). In fact, if you go to the "A Shot at Love 2" Wikipedia page, you will notice that some of the reasons she eliminated contestants include things like "creeped her out by 'doing too much research on the internet' on her" and "was too much of a stalker." While I can attest that when someone does too much research on the internets on me is indeed a huge turn-off, I also have to say to Tila that it comes with the fucking territory when you are an omega-list internet celebrity. If I write about my life on the internets, then it's a given that I'm going to field a few e-mails from random people talking to me like they've known me for years, or looking up my Facebook/MySpace pages, or whatever else. Tila should know, since she's in the real alphabet of internet celebrity what with all those millions of MySpace friends. She's at least an F-list internet celebrity, so she needs to stop getting surprised or shocked when the people on her dating show actually have the audacity to read the personal information about her that she's worked so hard to get online.

3. Tila Tequila actually requires these hoes to "fall in love" with her to continue having a shot at getting into her herpetic pants. I fail to see the inherent love-creating properties of activities that resemble an episode of "Double Dare" meets "Fear Factor" populated by people who all have at least one "Girls Gone Wild" credential on their CVs, and it's amazing to me that anyone could find true love amid such a shitshow. I suppose another thing complicating Tila's ability to fall in love with the ladies is the fact that she's NOT EVEN GAY! I'd wager my left ovary that if Tila's ever dined on tuna tacos, it's because her boyfriend asked her to. I'd wager my right ovary, though, that Tila has never been to a clam bake, because she realized long ago that merely kissing girls gets her a lot of attention from dudes, and why bother being a big lez in the bedroom when you can just fake it convincingly for the benefit of MySpace and MTV's audience! What does that leave us with? I have a full set of ovaries and every bitch on "A Shot at Love" has been played for a fool. Fall in love. Sha right, Tila Tequila!

4. Tila Tequila has no talent. In spite of Tila saying that she only likes go-getters who have actual careers and taking credit for the legalization of gay marriage in California, the only thing Tila has ACTUALLY done is showcase her attention whoring skills. After proving that she's the biggest hooker-ass prosty in the world of social networking, she's managed to bring her wardrobe fresh off the Rave clearance rack and her genital lesions to the small screen and that's IT! She doesn't act, sing, dance, write, or do anything that could actually be considered a job, unless you count modeling for jerk-off calendars marketed toward The Fast and the Furious set a career. Again, I know I'm a big hooker-ass prosty for internets attention as well, but at least I have a day job, and I could convince anyone who isn't a grad student that this job is somewhat useful to my fellow man. What the fuck does Tila do besides show us all what a cut-rate breast aug she got in a wardrobe of Forever 21 stripper clothes whenever possible?

5. Seriously, does ANYONE want to fuck Tila Tequila besides losers who believe 9/11 conspiracies and spend all day on MySpace wanking it and sending me messages like "hai hoynee wana chat my aim is polerigger420 holer at me kewtie pi!!!!!" and "dam ur sexiee gurl! u gota mann?" and the more rare but nonetheless extant "u lik girls? cal me i lik girls 2"? NO! I wouldn't fuck Tila Tequila and I'm a skank-ass ho myself. Usually I wouldn't pass up a hot chick in the mood for some oysters on the half shell, but I'd rather fuck Paris Hilton than Tila Tequila for public health reasons alone, which is a sad statement indeed. Luckily for the female contestants, Tila Tequila isn't really gay and isn't going to give them molluscum contagiosum or any of those weird lesbian STDs. Not as lucky for the girls and the guys is the fact that you can get herpes by kissing.

I pray that Tila finds love this time around, because I'm not sure I can stand another season of faux bisexuality and shockingly arrogant retardation as only Tila Tequila can serve up. If she doesn't, I might start thinking I'm too old for MTV, and that will mean giving up incredibly deep, painstakingly produced, tightly scripted productions of high art like "The Hills"! That can't happen, so MTV needs to tell Tila next time around that her shots at love have run the fuck out.

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# posted by Razzy @ 5:33 AM 0 Comments Links to this post

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

 

Daily Dude I Want to Hit: gay marriage in California


Name: gay marriage in California

DOB: June 17, 2008

Occupation: making for some official homo couples

Hometown: Sacramento, California

Current residence: throughout the Golden State

Why I Want to Hit that Hotness:  I think most people can probably easily surmise that I'm pro-gay marriage.   I actually don't really care whether it's called "marriage" or "civil union" or whatever else, so long as the queers doing it get the same rights afforded to their heterosexual counterparts.  Luckily, as of yesterday, it's ON in California!

Some people may be scratching their heads and thinking, "Wait a second...isn't Razzy a Republican?  How can she support gay marriage?"  It may be true that in this election, I'm down with officer and a hot piece Senator John McCain, but I don't vote for social issues.  I'm also pro-choice, and in spite of all the women who have told me in near-hysterical tones that "BUT THEY ONLY NEED ONE MORE SUPREME COURT JUSTICE!"  Well, seven of the nine justices were appointed by Republican presidents and I still managed to have a safe (albeit horrible), legal abortion.  I'm not voting for a president with my uterus, or with my semi-gay vagina.  Besides, I believe that marriage law should be decided by the states, not the federal government.  So, yes...I'm all for the homos getting hitched and having every other civil right afforded to Americans.  Besides, every last pervy Razzyphile who has jerked off to a post I've written about fucking girls here and there knows that I'm bi, and what do you think the "B" in LGBT stands for?  I say a big "yay" to gay rights.

I therefore offer a wholehearted congratulations to all the hot fags and lezzies making it legal in California, and wish them nothing but happiness and success in their marriages.  I hope they truly enjoy each other's health insurance benefits, and the marriage benefit on their taxes, and planning each other's funerals.  Go gay marriage!

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# posted by Razzy @ 6:14 AM 2 Comments Links to this post

Monday, June 16, 2008

 

Daily Douchebag: Tila Tequila


Name: Thien Thanh Thi Nguyen

DOB: October 24, 1981

Occupation: MySpace and reality TV whore

Hometown: Alief, Texas via Singapore via Vietnam

Current residence: Hollywood, California

Douchebaggery: The other day, Tila Tequila was enjoying all the perks of being a Q-list media whore, like tickets to the premiere of The Love Guru.  While walking the red carpet alongside luminaries like Verne Troyer and the Stanley Cup, Tila decided to take credit for the California Supreme Court's recent decision to legalize gay marriage.
“It is because of me. I definitely think (my show) has helped the movement,” Tequila told Us Weekly at the Hollywood premiere of “The Love Guru” on Wednesday.

“Before it came out, everyone was still a little apprehensive about (same sex relationships),” she said. “Then they realized, ‘Wow, everyone is really into this stuff, and it is fine.’ The next thing you know, (gay marriage) is legal.”
Yes, I am sure that while deliberating the finer nuances of constitutional law in their chambers, the highest court in America's most populous state tipped the scales in gay marriage's favor by watching a bunch of trashy strippers wrestle in a vat of pudding in hope of winning the chance to swap herpes lesion exudate with MySpace's skankiest faux bisexual on "A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila." I'm sure that watching Tila climbing into a communal bed with a troupe of pole-rubbing hoochies or giving lap dances to their dear old grandmas really mitigated any apprehension about the consequences of letting the homos file joint tax returns and or having the same spousal rights as those afforded to heterosexual married couples.  Clearly, California's Supreme Court justices realized how discriminatory it is to prevent gay people the same legal status as their heterosexual counterparts thanks to being titillated by an exploitative shitshow that uses Tila's supposed lesbian tendencies as an excuse for an unabashedly fame-starved slut to make out with girls on TV.  The queers of California are in your fucking debt, Tila Tequila.

Seriously, who the fuck does this dumb slag think she is?  First off, Tila's original "Shot at Love" ended with her choosing the dude to get with over Dani, the Floridian firefighter who had all my superfemme lesbian friends in a huge tizzy over her Converse-Izod chic sexiness.  Second, rumor has it that Tila Tequila isn't even gay.  I believe this, because not only did she dump the aforementioned Dani (who was WAY less douchetastic than the guy Tila chose and promptly ditched in order to secure a second season of unrealistic reality sluttery on MTV), she acts like she's bored with all the girls on the show all the time and never presses her advantage to get some poon.  Kissing girls is no big deal, and almost every girl I know has done it at one point or another.  It's a given that Tila is an infamous slut, so one would think that if she's really bisexual, tuna tacos would be on the menu every night at the "Shot at Love" house.  If I were in Tila's shoes with 30 girls and boys all trying to get with me, I'd be the world's most voracious seafood and sausage aficionado, but Tila doesn't do much besides smooch and act like she's some sort of sophisticated dignitary who just happens to wear lucite stilettos with pleather midriff-baring strapless minidresses and enjoys making her suitors compete in sexually charged "Double Dare"-esque physical challenges for her affections.  

Tila Tequila needs to stick with what she knows, specifically, picking tacky dresses off the clearance rack at Rave that showcase her cheaply augmented tits and maintaining her dominance of the MySpace whore circuit.  She is not doing ANYTHING for the gay marriage movement except associating it unfairly with vapid attention-craving tramps like herself.  I have one word for Tila Tequila, and that is STFU!       

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# posted by Razzy @ 4:11 AM 1 Comments Links to this post

Friday, June 06, 2008

 

Daily Douchebag: Safeco Field staff

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Name: Safeco Field ushers, staff, and management

DOB: July 15, 1999

Occupation: homophobic, civil rights-infringing assholes

Hometown: Seattle, Washington

Current residence: Seattle, Washington

Douchebaggery: Yesterday, CorporateCard shot me an e-mail with a link to this news story about a couple of hot lezzies who got busted by ushers at Safeco Field for making out during a Mariners game.  Apparently, people seated nearby didn't like them smooching over Safeco's famous (and fucking delicious) garlic fries, and didn't want to have to explain to their children why two women were kissing (my explanation would be "because they're awesome"), so the ushers told them that they'd have to leave if they didn't keep it platonic.  Apart from the squashing of hot girl-on-girl being further evidence supporting my theory that children totally suck, this is bullshit, but it's par for the course when it comes to Safeco Field.

As a native of the glorious P-N-Dub, I have watched the Mariners lose at Safeco many, many, many times.  Safeco is a beautiful ballpark, and catching a game there is one of the best things about being in Seattle during the few months that the skies aren't consistently overcast.  As I mentioned before, the garlic fries are awesome, as is the icy cold Rainier Beer (AKA "Vitamin R") on tap, as is the view of downtown Seattle, the Olympic Mountains, and the Puget Sound.  However, the ushers at Safeco have perennially been famous for their prudish fascism since the Safe opened its doors.  I remember in the first couple years after Safeco's opening, some genius Mariners fans decided to start wearing shirts that said "YANKEES SUCK" on them.  I think almost everyone in the world who isn't among the hateful legions of Satan worshipers AKA Yankees fans) not only appreciates this sentiment, but agrees with it wholeheartedly.  However, Safeco's lame usher staff spotted these shirts, claimed they were "offensive," and made everyone wearing one either take it off, turn it inside out, or get the fuck out of the stadium.  At the time of the "Yankees Suck" controversy, I remember being disgusted with what I marked as typical Seattle bullshit.  Only in politically-correct Seattle is "suck" considered a vulgarity (and again, when "suck" is paired with the word "Yankees," I consider that phrase a sacred utterance), and only in Seattle is wearing a shirt that's considered not nice by some an ejectable offense.  Trust that you could probably walk into Yankee Stadium wearing a hat with a flashing neon sign that says "FUCK THOSE ASSHOLE (insert name of team playing Yankees here)!" and get a damn seating upgrade.  I mean, Alex Rodriguez's wife wore a wife beater that said "FUCK YOU" on the back to Yankee Stadium, for God's sake!  In Seattle, you'd probably be jailed for those kind of foul-mouthed shenanigans.

After a massive public outcry, Safeco Field officials finally conceded that "Yankees Suck" shirts weren't the end of the world, and without much fanfare stopped their dedicated campaign to stifle anti-(sonofabitchbastard) Yankees sentiment among Mariner fans.  However, the ushers at Safeco continue to be totally lame.  One time I went to a Mariners game with a bunch of my colleagues at the company I used to work at in Seattle.  Being a group of highly professional, unbelievably classy science nerds, we smuggled in a flask of booze to augment our overpriced Vitamin Rs.  At some point around the 6th inning, an usher caught us passing it around and confiscated it.

"You can't take our private property!"  I hissed at the usher, who was approximately 97 years old.  "What the fuck are you going to do if we don't hand it over?"

"Call the police," he replied.  We handed it over.

"That's a treasured possession!" protested the flask's owner.  "I insist that I get it back after the game!  You aren't entitled to keep it!"

"Inquire at the security office after the game," said the usher.

The flask's owner and I drunkenly marched to the security office after the game and demanded the flask back.  The security guy was a total dick, and he got out the flask.  "Oh, you mean this flask?" he asked.

"Yes," we said.  "Return it immediately."

"Well, sorry, I can't," he said, taunting us with it.  "You see, it has alcohol in it, and we are obligated not to release any alcoholic substances."

In a move of drunken ballsiness that I probably would never in a million years contemplate doing sober, I snatched it from him and poured out the remaining three swigs of booze in it on the security office floor.  I handed it back to him.

"Problem solved," I said.  "Now give it back to us.  It has sentimental value, and you have no right to confiscate it permanently."

The security guy made some threats about how we had better behave properly at future Mariners games, but gave us the flask.  We went to a bar to drink more with our other colleagues/drunks to celebrate our victory over the nefarious Safeco Field gestapo.

Hearing now that Safeco Field's staff is cracking down on hot chicks kissing is hardly surprising. It merely continues the tradition of intolerant lameness that has become the standard.  Compounding the ass-suckery that is par for the course at Safeco, management is defending their decision to hate on horny dykes as a response to their behavior, not their sexual orientation.  Supposedly, they were kissing, groping, and fondling, which is as gross a violation of Safeco's "family friendly" policy as a "Yankees Suck" t-shirt.  I would argue that since the complaining lesbian was a contestant on "A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila," kissing, groping, and fondling come to her as naturally as breathing.  These are civil rights which Safeco Field has no right to cruelly infringe upon.  Besides, the Mariners are as usual underperforming enough to be sitting squarely in last place in the AL West, so it would be nice to be distracted from Felix Hernandez giving up 4 runs to the Red Sox and blowing the game in the 8th inning by some girls getting sexy.  Let the lesbians get it on at Mariners games without worrying about whether or not it will confuse idiot children, you homophobic, hating bastards at Safeco Field!

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# posted by Razzy @ 6:34 AM 1 Comments Links to this post

Tuesday, June 03, 2008

 

Huge load (of shit)

As I mentioned yesterday, I'm bad about checking my razzy@razzy.org e-mail sometimes because the e-mail program sucks and does a terrible job at filtering out spam.  Therefore I have to try to sort through all the mail and delete 90% of it before I can read the adoring words from Razzyphiles and the wishes of death, disease, and lifelong misery from Razzy Haters.  I'm always astounded at the sheer volume of spam I receive promising enhancement to the form and function of my non-existent penis.  Are there really enough guys out there dumb enough to buy something from an e-mail that reads "Make it hard as a br1ck!" or "Pund her hard all nit3 with ur new powerful 1ove mussle fleshrod!" sent from a Czechoslovakian e-mail address that looks like an eye chart and directs you to some sketchy website?  There must be, because the flow of this type of spam seems endless.  However, I noticed a new variation on the spam theme of penis enhancement that shocked me a little.

"BLOW HER AWAY WITH YOUR BIGGER LOADS!" the e-mail subject proclaimed.  Bigger loads?  As in more volume of ejaculated semen?  I was mystified.  What's the point of that?  Surely this means something else.

I hit the internets, and sure enough, that is EXACTLY what this spam was selling.  I found a website promising all sorts of ridiculous benefits to using "sperm enhancing" products called VolumePills (which supposedly "allow any man to cum like a porn star") and Semenax (which supposedly "gives you the ability to shoot a load as far and as powerful as anyone you have ever seen in a movie"):
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After a quick read of the propaganda, I was even more mystified by this line of bullshit.  It's news to me that "being able to produce a massive amount of semen is the key to getting more women." I've slept with my fair share of dudes and never once has my qualification pre-screening (translation: buy me a drink and tell me I'm pretty and/or smart) involved determining whether or not they can blow a Peter North-sized load.  I don't usually care much one way or the other, and I have sort of a semen fetish.  I love it when guys do hot porn star shit with their jizz.  While I don't like taking it to the face without being warned first, I DO like it when guys give me pearl necklaces or shout "DRAINAGE!" when they're spraying all over my ass and lower back.  Nonetheless, I have never heard "a woman talk about a man who shoots a small load without laughing" as the website suggests.  In fact, I've never heard women talk about this much at all.  Usually, we ladies only care about semen in that it doesn't taste bad, it doesn't stink, it isn't chunky or otherwise possibly diseased, and you don't get it in our eyes, because a cumshot to the peepers stings like a bitch.  I've never thought, "Wow, that was a pretty pathetic paltry volume of ejaculate.  What a loser."

I also don't believe that "men who shoot weak loads are often timid and meek."  One of my high school boyfriends was timid and meek, and he produced such copious volumes of cum that after sex I would have to change my pants because my entire pelvic area from stem to stern would be so goddamn sodden.  It made sex in the car (the number one preferred location for illicit teenaged high school sex) a royal pain in the ass in terms of mess, too.  In fact, the only advantage I can think of regarding making lots of baby gravy is that it's probably easier to knock a girl up with, which is an undesirable thing in my book.  Supporting this theory is the fact that my high school boyfriend now has two kids.   

This sounds to me like a marketing myth that, for whatever reason, men are especially susceptible to, or what I call the "strap-on blowjob" phenomenon.  In porn, you always see chicks sucking some other chick's strap-on, and the recipient is always moaning and acting like it's driving her wild.  While I guess it's mentally kind of hot to see that and it makes practical sense to lube up your dildo, it's not like the chick wearing the strap-on can actually feel the fabulous blowjob she's getting.  Having used strap-ons to bang chicks myself, I can say with certainty that the real trick to using one is learning how to work your partner's cooch blindly.  When you're fingerbanging a chick or licking her snatch, you can get the lay of the land by touch.  With a strap-on, you have to rely on your instincts, because you can't feel anything that's going on in there.  In fact, when I first started using it last year, I had a terrible time even figuring out the correct angle to even commence penetration (thanks to all your helpful tips, by the way, that has now been resolved).  The point is that the strap-on blowjobs so common to pornography are believable only to men, whose own love of fellatio render them especially gullible when it comes to buying that this act is awesome for the woman receiving it.  The concept that blowing a gigantic load is guaranteed to get a guy laid like Hugh Hefner is the strap-on blowjob of penis enhancement lore.

Ladies can feel free to tell me that I'm wrong and that they actually do give a flying reverse piledriver about how much semen a man can produce with any given orgasm, but I am pretty confident that the vast majority of bitches DO NOT CARE.  So, guys, save your money.  Your ejaculate's size is much less important than its texture, smell, and taste.  Besides, these pills probably don't work anyway.  If you buy them, then it will actually hinder your chances of getting laid because it will demonstrate to all your prospective sex partners that you are STUPID. 

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# posted by Razzy @ 7:13 AM 1 Comments Links to this post

Friday, May 30, 2008

 

I TOLD YOU SO!

Proving once again that my Smith College education and occasional taste for tuna has honed my keen lesbadar to an admirable accuracy rate, the gossip internets this week are abuzz that Lindsay Lohan is going to take advantage of California's decision to legalize homo marriage and make it official with her special girlfriend Samantha Ronson.

I publicly called this one over a year ago when LL Cool Jew spotted Lindsay Lohan sporting the following hat, which might as well be a set of pride rings or a pink triangle in terms of its lesbian-revealing powers:
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I mean, if wearing a Smith College hat despite not having gone to Smith doesn't announce to the world that you're a clam digger, then I don't know what does.  It's not like LiLo is a big fan of Smith's rugby team (and if she is, that's even more of a giveaway that she's gone gayelle).  Girlfriend just wishes she could run around drawing giant chalk labias outside Neilson Library on Coming Out Day and boob-mashing hard to a Dar Williams CD with the androgynous BDOC (that's "big dyke on campus") set.  Go Pioneers!

Well, the celebrity gossip world has been all over Lindsay's lesbish ways the past week.  Apparently she was making out with Snatch-mantha Ronson on Diddy's yacht in Cannes, then showed up to a party wearing hers-and-hers rings on their wedding fingers and blabbed about her impending nuptials. This is after they've been reportedly doing all sorts of couple stuff, like walking around holding hands and spending Passover together at the Ronsons'.  Yesterday, the greatest and most reliable newspaper in the history of print journalism, the magnificent New York Post, not only reported that Lindsay and Sam are going to walk down the aisle at City Hall in California soon, but that it's going to help Lindsay's image by making her an icon embodying "lesbian chic."
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Alright, Lindsay!  I honestly can't think of a better way to rehabilitate Lindsay's image than by settling down and licking some twat.  And I'm pleased as a petted pussy about the fact that I called this OVER A YEAR AGO, long before it ended up on Page Six.  I'm going to send the happy couple a strap-on to celebrate their happy day when they actually make honest women of each other.  I'm sure they can find a use for it while honeymooning on an Olivia cruise. 

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# posted by Razzy @ 7:24 AM 3 Comments Links to this post

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

 

Homo Fide

In used-to-be late-breaking news, California announced that the bill to ban same-sex union has been rejected, allowing homosexuals throughout the Golden State to walk down the aisle with legal sanction. In 30ish days time, the law will be signed into effect.

Meanwhile, homos from North to South have already begun to plan they nuptials.

While controversy will certainly arise in the days and months to come, divided parties will agree on one certainty: this decision offers a great deal of hope for the struggling economy in the creation of several new, essential jobs.

Ye seekers of employment, hone your skills and head into any of these 'bout-to-burgeon professions:

FINERY - Tuxedo rentals will see a spike, so for the retail- and customer service-savvy, high thee to the formal wear vendor nearest you. Plus- and petite-sizes a perfect must.

CATERING - Homosexual appeptites will undoubtedly run up, and spikes in the creation, cooking and service of food and beverage is to be expected. Think hummus and tuna tartare, champers and Kentucky rye. The rest will fall into place.

BOUNCERS - The lines at the Unitarian Church will inevitably stretch from White Castle to the Nile - or at least Baja to Berkeley. The services of steady butchesque types the state over will be in high demand, to keep the... peace.

DOGS - Got something [anything] to do with dogs? Prepare ye the coming of boom. Grooming, sitting, schooling, vending, outfitting, walking - you name it. There will be many an abandoned or undisciplined canine, be it left behind on a honeymoon or slated to be a ring bearer.

UHAULs - No joke needed.

RAV4 / SCION STRETCH LIMO RENTALS - Joke needed. But the fact remains that many members of the wedding Parties will need a seat in a practical vehicle. Preferably... boxy.

DIVORCE LAWYERS - Gays will finally be able to take advantage of their God-given rights as Americans to both marry and separate formally . So get with the picture and sharpen your knowledge of marital law. Social services will always be there as a back-up when the, er, dam breaks.

Expect a steady hold in lace, a hold in contraception, a spike in latex and a potential turn in the California housing market. Wills/testaments may also see an increase, but plan carefully.

And so. The skeptical, curious and optimistic eyes of the nation turn west anew to await the new chapter in our nation's social history. The clever among us will seize the day to serve this new wave of change in the most advantageous way, with Amer'can ingenuity, pluck, and other-cheekness. Till death do us.

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# posted by FalloniusMonk @ 9:34 AM 3 Comments Links to this post
 

Daily Douchebag: shrinks

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Name: in my case, Dr. Stein

DOB: ???--the 1950s, probably

Occupation: getting off the fucking topic at hand

Hometown: ???--they never tell you anything personal

Current residence: for me, New York, New York or thereabouts

Douchebaggery:  I'm not one who gets embarrassed about going to therapy.  Sometimes I just need some professional assistance working out the kinks in my life, and that's nothing to be ashamed of.  Right now for me, I've realized that I really, REALLY need to quit smoking.  I know that I've quit so many times it's a running joke for everyone else, but this time it really absolutely has to happen.  With my asthma making a comeback with a vengeance, I now have the option of either smoking or breathing.  I no longer have the luxury of quitting smoke for health reasons that aren't immediately apparent.  I'm at the crossroads of either recovery or COPD, and I'm choosing recovery.  However, because I've tried and failed so many times to quit smoking, I decided to get some help this time around, so I'm seeing a shrink.  Besides, I have other unresolved issues (ie: abortion) that stress me out and exacerbate the smoking situation, so it can't hurt to iron out those wrinkles in my life either.

I wanted to see a shrink who would put me on Wellbutrin XL, AKA Zyban when it's sold as an aid for smoking cessation, to assist me with the lengthy process of washing cigarettes the fuck out of my life.  Columbia set me up with some guy who is supposedly good with "addiction issues" and who could help me.  Our first session went pretty well, except for the fact that he seemed to think my being bisexual played a large role in my lifelong smoking habit.  I disagreed, and said that my smoking "habit"--or, more accurately, debilitating addiction--was the result of my childhood stupidity and subsequent severe dependency on cigarettes.  My resolve to quit is tested by stressful situations, and my coping with those constructively is further damaged by festering drama from my past such as the aforementioned trip to the family planning clinic.  One thing that doesn't seem to affect my smoking is my sex life, and whether I'm doing dudes and/or chicks.  I'm at the shrink for two things: Wellbutrin and stress management.  I'm NOT here to take other aspects of my life that I'm just fine and dandy with and turn them into major fucking problems, which is what happened at our second and last session.

Yesterday, my shrink advised me that he was leaving Columbia, and sorry to bounce after my second visit, but he'll hook me up with another doctor who will help.  While he tried to evaluate what kind of shrink would be best for that, I was surprised by some of the lines of questioning he pursued.  Apparently, certain aspects of my personality--which he referred to as a "syndrome," like my personality is AIDS or something--are problems I didn't even know I had.  For example, I was unaware that I'm secretly TRANSGENDERED because I drink scotch, like football, and fuck around, and these are male traits.  Also, my parents may have something to do with this.  Not sure what, since my parents are loving and supportive and still married to each other, and neither of them hit or molested me growing up, but they are involved somehow in the gender identity crisis I didn't know I was having.

Needless to say, yesterday I didn't get a lot done in terms of keeping my shrink on point with regard to smoking and other traumatic events from my life that start with "A" and rhyme with "kabortion" yesterday.  I complained to LL Cool Jew while we were talking about whether or not scotch makes me TOO crazy, and this precipitated a tirade from her: 
LL Cool Jew: those JWBs go down way too easy for you!
Razzy: i KNOW
LL Cool Jew: maybe you should call a moratorium on the scotchers
Razzy: NEVER
LL Cool Jew: to bring yourself back to fighting levels
Razzy: although today my shrink called me transgendered on the basis of my scotch drinking
LL Cool Jew: transgendered?
Razzy: yes, i apparently like "male" things
LL Cool Jew: that's a stupid thing to say
Razzy: i was like, "NO WAY AM I CHANGING MY NAME TO MAX"
Razzy: "OR JULIAN"
Razzy: "OR ETHAN"
LL Cool Jew: cmon how about ezra?
Razzy:: i know, i thought it was dumb too
LL Cool Jew: but seriously
LL Cool Jew: that's a pretty wacktastic thing to say
Razzy: i was like, "dude, i'm totally comfortable in my body"
Razzy: well he's leaving columbia so this was our last sesh
Razzy: his conclusion: "i'm extremely complicated"
LL Cool Jew: it's not only obtuse, it's also disrespectful to be joking about a serious issue to you
Razzy: i don't think he was joking
LL Cool Jew: well then it's straight up fucktarded
Razzy: it's yet "another facet to your already extremely multifaceted complex personality"
LL Cool Jew: i call bullshit
Razzy: basically, i'm too confusing for him
LL Cool Jew: i'm glad that guy's gone
Razzy:: like i said, i'm getting a new shrink regardless
LL Cool Jew: you deserve somebody better than that
Razzy: i actually thought he was okay for the most part
Razzy: i don't think his expertise is sexuality issues
Razzy: he always seems out of his element when i'm talking about being bisexual
Razzy: he's like, "let's talk more about that"
LL Cool Jew: then he should keep his bright ideas to himself
Razzy: : i'm all, "dude, i'm totally fine with that. let's talk about MY SMOKING ADDICTION, that's why i'm here"
LL Cool Jew: these shrinks always think the queerness is a much bigger deal than in reality it is
Razzy: TRULY
Razzy: and i'm like hardly even queer!
LL Cool Jew: i always wanted to be like, look, i know this is a real trip for you because you're a boomer
LL Cool Jew: but for rizzle, i have never felt bad about being a lesbian
Razzy: i think he's trying to read too much into my "male" habits and the fact that i bang broads every so often
LL Cool Jew: and now i don't feel particularly bad about being straight
Razzy: i did long ago, in catholic school
Razzy: but now, FUCK THAT, i have no issues at all
Razzy: my issues are SMOKING and ABORTIONS!
LL Cool Jew: they always want to read more into it
Razzy: yeah today we had a 20 minute pointless convo about my parents' marriage
Razzy: i was like, "uh, back to the smoking, please"
LL Cool Jew: they think it's just got to be screwing with your emotions
LL Cool Jew: not really
LL Cool Jew: see, and there's another one
LL Cool Jew: if your parents are together, they want to talk about how they can identify weaknesses in their marriage in your personality flaws
Razzy: i'm like "KNOW WHAT'S REALLY SCREWING WITH ME...*SMOKING AND ABORTIONS*!
LL Cool Jew: if your parents arent together, they want to make "broken homes" into some big damn deal
Razzy:: exax
LL Cool Jew: it's not a mystery why i am unhappy
LL Cool Jew: i want to quit smoking
LL Cool Jew: if i quit smoking i bet i'd feel pretty hot about myself
LL Cool Jew: after i lost the 30 pounds i gained quitting of course
Razzy: then he was reading a lot into the fact that i don't care whether my new shrink that he's referring me to is male or female
LL Cool Jew: for god's sake
Razzy: i was like, no dude, i seriously don't care, as long as they can help me with the smoking
LL Cool Jew: this guy needs to get wuith the program
Razzy: i finally told him, "I'm bi-psychiatrist"
Razzy:"just like i'm bisexual"
Razzy: he thought that was funny
LL Cool Jew: you're like
LL Cool Jew: can they prescribe medication?
LL Cool Jew: then great.
Razzy: well exactly
Razzy: i was like the one thing i need
Razzy: is someone to keep the wellbutrin coming
LL Cool Jew: god
Razzy: AND WHO WANTS TO TALK ABOUT SMOKING AND ABORTIONS!
LL Cool Jew: you are so bringing me back dude.
LL Cool Jew: some of these shrinks just don't have a clue
Razzy: for real
LL Cool Jew: f'ing BOOMERS man
Razzy: i think my guy thought i was "very interesting"
LL Cool Jew:: they are hellbent on destroying us!
Razzy: because i'm "so extremely complex"
LL Cool Jew: well isn't everybody
Razzy:: bleeecccch
LL Cool Jew: isn't that the POINT
Razzy: i KNOW
Razzy: i was like, "glad i'm special but I NEED TO QUIT SMOKING!"
Razzy: i had to work hard to keep dr. stein on track
LL Cool Jew: wouldn't it be awesome if the shrink were just like
LL Cool Jew: wow you are a very straightforward individual with identified problems
LL Cool Jew: let's work on those
Razzy: TRULY
LL Cool Jew: see if anything else comes up
Razzy: i mean
Razzy: i mean, i'm giving my history
Razzy: colorfully, as is my habit
LL Cool Jew: if we're trying to hide something, that's one thing
LL Cool Jew: but YOU of all people don't try to hide ANYTHING.
Razzy: and the second i say, "i'm bisexual"
Razzy: he's like "when did you realize you were bisexual?"
Razzy: VOMIT
Razzy: i don't fucking know!
LL Cool Jew: stop the presses
Razzy: forever!
Razzy: i banged a chick first
Razzy: but then a dude immediately after
LL Cool Jew: let me waste your valuable 45 minutes talking about ancillary BS
Razzy: like WHO CARES
LL Cool Jew: they just don't want to hear that you're comfortable with it
LL Cool Jew: they WON'T believe it
LL Cool Jew: it's not possible in the boomer mind
Razzy: i KNOW
LL Cool Jew: because THEY still hate gays
Razzy: like, "in my time, people were so ostracized, shouldn't you be too?"
LL Cool Jew: OR, they really enjoy talking about their gay friends
LL Cool Jew: yes, "at my high school, we beat up tons of fags...how do YOU feel about ME?"
Razzy: ugh
LL Cool Jew: anyway
LL Cool Jew: glad that guy's moving on
Razzy: truly
Razzy: i hope his replacement is kewler
LL Cool Jew: you have to watch tehm
LL Cool Jew: tell them upfront
Razzy: totz, keep them on track
LL Cool Jew: they will waste your time otherwise
Razzy: truly
Razzy: i'm like, "back to the smoking"
Razzy: "back to the smoking"
LL Cool Jew: other things may come up as we address the reason you're there
LL Cool Jew: which is normal
LL Cool Jew: but you shouldn't be asked to take grandiose sidesteps from the issue at hand
LL Cool Jew: or worse yet
LL Cool Jew: CONVINCE them on teh points where you're already OKAY
Razzy: EXACTLY
LL Cool Jew: why do you have to convince them?
Razzy: like i definitely don't need to be told i'm having a gender identity crisis
Razzy: BECAUSE I'M NOT
LL Cool Jew: you're willing enough to share about your real problems
LL Cool Jew: who could possibly think that you were having a gender identity crisis?
LL Cool Jew: if you really wanted to be a dude
LL Cool Jew: i doubt you'd have LONG FLOWING CHERRY PIE BLONDE HAIR
Razzy: well truly
LL Cool Jew: or flash your tits all the time
Razzy: i know, i was like "i'm REALLY comfortable with my body"
LL Cool Jew: well maybe this next person will be respectful enough to take you seriously
LL Cool Jew: when you tell them you sincerely need help with certain things
Razzy: i hope so
LL Cool Jew: and not waste a bunch of your time getting bi sex stories to titillate and wow themselves
Razzy: TRULY
Razzy: well that's it
Razzy: i was like, "do i really need to go into detail about all the various methods and things by which i do it with girls?"
LL Cool Jew: no, not at all, it's completely irrelevant
Razzy: i mean, jesus
Razzy: not telling you about my strap-on, you perv
LL Cool Jew: that is so disgusting
LL Cool Jew: wasting your mental health HMO time getting his rocks off
Razzy: actually, though, i think my guy may have been confused about whether or not i actually f girls
Razzy: or just think making out with them and kissing is sex
LL Cool Jew: what difference does that make????????
Razzy: i assured him that my sex life with women is very below the belt
Razzy: BUT BACK TO SMOKING AND ABORTIONS
LL Cool Jew: this really pisses me off
LL Cool Jew: it's totz bringing me back to the dc shrink who tried to date me
Razzy: OH and then today
Razzy: he was all
Razzy: "so you've had sex with quite a few men"
LL Cool Jew:: ok
Razzy: when i was like "i f'd 62 dudes"
Razzy: i was like "right"
Razzy: dr. stein: "why do you think that is?"
Razzy: I DON'T KNOW, I LIKE TO FUCK!
LL Cool Jew: are you a sex addict as well as being a tranny boi now?
LL Cool Jew: pronounced tranny BWA in louisiana of course
Razzy: i must be
LL Cool Jew: i bet your male counterpart on his couch didn't get that question
LL Cool Jew: asshole
Razzy: SERIOUSLY
LL Cool Jew: angie, i am so livid about this, it's kind of ridic.
Razzy: well i'm done with dr. stein
LL Cool Jew: thank god
Razzy: so don't worry
LL Cool Jew: please don't hold him against my people.
Razzy: i'll date some other inadequate shrink
Razzy: dr. stein is recommending someone with expertise in treating addictions
Razzy: which is what i requested
LL Cool Jew: \m/
Razzy: exax
Razzy: so he did listen
Razzy: enough
LL Cool Jew: \m/ \m/
LL Cool Jew: sorry
LL Cool Jew: i love the devil hands
Razzy: after he told me i'm a F2M SLIZUT!
LL Cool Jew: well his opinion matters for shit
Razzy: well for real
Razzy: like i said
LL Cool Jew: i hate his gutses
Razzy: AIN'T NO WAY I'M CHOPPING OFF MY TITS AND ANSWERING TO "BOBBY"
So needless to say, I still need a shrink since I was so busy trying to explain to my old one that a few scotches don't necessarily equate to a F2M tranny, my slutty habits have nothing to do with smoking (except possibly that I smoke cigarettes for some of the same reasons I smoke pole--I'm orally fixated), and we didn't even really get to the abortion stuff.  Hopefully my next one will be a little more on track.  Goddamn shrinks.

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# posted by Razzy @ 4:33 AM 3 Comments Links to this post

Thursday, May 08, 2008

 

Daily Dude I Want to Hit: Upper East Side honeybees


Name: Apis mellifera

DOB: the early Pleistocene

Occupation: swarming, making honey, homesteading on choice real estate

Hometown: eastern tropical Africa

Current residence: East 75th Street and Second Avenue, New York, New York

Why I Want to Hit that Hotness:  Today's issue of the greatest paper in the history of print journalism (otherwise known as the New York Post) features an article ("UPPER EAST HIVE: Bee-Listers All Swarm 2nd Ave.") about a swarm of bees that tried to establish a hive in a newspaper box on the Upper East Side.  The city had to call in a beekeeper from the Bronx Zoo to remove the bees after "frantic calls to 311 began pouring in."

These bees are true New Yorkers.  I have been hearing an increased amount of bitching and moaning about how bees are dying in droves thanks to global warming and pollution, but not these bees.  These bees said "fuck you" to that and moved to a fancy neighborhood, pollution be damned.  I admire these bees for not only surviving in the urban jungle, but for their taste in fancy neighborhoods.  They are some hot-ass bees.

Another thing I like personally concerning these bees is that they moved literally onto the same street where my lesbian apprentice Twathopper lives.  I'm interpreting the fact that a bunch of bees in a mating swarm moved to a newspaper box in Twathopper's neck of the woods as an omen that she's finally going to dip into a honey hole of her own.  With any luck, her new apian neighbors signify that Twathopper is going to follow their box-dwelling lead.  

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# posted by Razzy @ 7:42 AM 2 Comments Links to this post

Wednesday, May 07, 2008

 

Lesbian riot! Go Pioneers!

My friend DanRubin is an editor at a major sports magazine, and he is in charge of the college sports department, so he spends all day surfing the internets looking for interesting sports-related college news stories.  Today, he stumbled on this story, and naturally immediately passed along the link, along with a preemptory "you're welcome." Obviously anything with the headline "LESBIAN RIOT AT SMITH COLLEGE!" is worth my time reading.

Basically, the Smith College Republican Club invited some moron named Ryan Sorba (not to be confused with Kevin Sorbo of "Hercules: The Legendary Journeys" fame) to speak.  Ryan Sorba wrote some (currently unpublished) book called The Born Gay Hoax, in which he basically hates on homos and tries to use his experience taking Psych 101 at Cal State to disprove the theory that those of us who like to get a little hot same-sex action were born this way.  I guess it fits that he went all the way to Northampton to speak about it, since the only place this might be true is actually at Smith, where there are LUGs (Lesbian Until Graduation, AKA the "Four Year Plan") in abundance. Presumably Ryan Sorba wrote this to try and convince himself that there's got to be some other reason for his lifelong attraction to men than him being inherently a big old sausage sucker.  I assume he went the intellectual route for being a self-loathing Uncle Tom 'mo after he realized that as a rather slight, wimpy dude, the standard college-age male strategy for homosexual self-denial (calling random guys "fags" and threatening to beat their asses for existing) wasn't going to work out.  

This is pretty typical of the Smith College Republicans.  Granted, I'm KIND OF a Republican, but trust that I didn't hang out with those bitches at Smith (like my hero, John McCain, I'm a "maverick").  They were all the prototypical "pearls and penny loafers" Smith girls, who spent all their time complaining about the gays and feeling discriminated against for being privileged prissy rich princesses parroting their daddies' political beliefs on account of having no personality of their own.  Basically, they were a bunch of dumb snatches who just wanted to make a club facilitating a group whine-a-thon about all the outspoken dykes taking over campus with their Subarus and wide-wale cords and bleeding heart politics, and rendering the campus a very Babs Bush/Nancy Reagan-unfriendly environment.  The Smith Republicans are usually such a bunch of predictable twats that hiring some wannabe author with similarly reactionary homophobic beliefs is a pretty standard move from their playbook.  Equally predictable as the Smith Republicans' poor choice of simple-minded bigots as seminar speakers is the reaction of the substantially larger LBT community at Smith: a peaceable riot.
The lesbians eventually got so loud that Ryan Sorba was shamed into sitting down. The best part of the video is when the obvious Republican (denoted by her neutral-toned blazer, tasteful brooch, and Ann Taylor slacks) starts frantically trying to decide what to do in the midst of a churning sea of ugly haircuts.  Smith hasn't changed a bit since I completed matriculating there eight years ago.  Ahhh...memories.

The only thing I have a problem with on the lesbians' end is their chant. I'm so sick of that tired old "We're here! We're queer! Get over it!" line. That's been in rotation since fucking Stonewall! Not that Smith lesbians are known for their creativity, since most come in roughly three flavors (Sporting Lesbian, Plain Lesbian, Androgynous Lesbian), but find some new protest chant already. I would be a lot more impressed if they'd marched into the meeting singing "Born to eat puss-ay" (to the tune of "Born in the USA"...DUH!) or something like that.  If they can't think of anything as good as that, they could at least regurgitate some old Team Dresch lyrics.  Anything besides that played-out "We're here! We're queer!" chant peppered with enthusiastic shrieks and woo-hooing.  Switch it up for the next riot, gals!

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# posted by Razzy @ 10:50 AM 3 Comments Links to this post

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

 

Dirty Steel

I love the New York Times coverage of "The Hills." First they called Heidi Montag a "feminist hero" on the basis of her being completely indecisive about her relationship with douchebag extraordinaire Spencer Pratt, and now they are reporting that male models everywhere better take notice because a truly exemplary specimen of fuckable masculinity is about to dominate catalogs and catwalks everywhere. Watch out, Derek Zoolander.

YES! Justin Bobby Brescia, my all-time favorite "Hills" dweller is expanding his talents beyond the realm of belching, motorcycle-riding, and flagrantly cheating on Audrina's dumb ass. Usually I hate guys with long hair, but I have a real soft spot for Justin Bobby. First of all, his name is Justin Bobby. Second, would-be players could take a page out of his book.

Last season on "The Hills," Justin Bobby managed to decisively out-douche Brody Jenner at his birthday party by drinking all his booze and being a total dickhead to everyone who crossed his path. Then he proceeded to make out with some other chick at a bar IN FRONT OF his girlfriend Audrina. When Audrina confronted him about it ("you were, like, totally, like, kissing that, like, other girl"), he simply responded, "No, I wasn't." When Audrina persisted in accusing him, saying something along the lines of "But, like, I totally, like saw you," Justin Bobby said, "No, I wasn't. You need to get your eyes checked." Then he belched. Audrina, being the rocket scientist of Epic Records receptionists that she is, says, "Okay," and gets on his motorcycle.

Last night while my girls and I were watching this trash (in riveted silence, because we need to fully concentrate on the dialogue in order to extract the point of any given discussion from amidst the "likes" and "totallys" liberally peppering even the most basic of verbal interactions between two cast members), the "scenes from the next" showed Justin Bobby and I about lost it.

"Dudes, JUSTIN BOBBY IS GETTING BACK TOGETHER WITH AUDRINA!!! YESSSSS!" I whooped.

HillsYes noted sarcastically, "Yeah, he'll probably have some girl s'ing his d in front of her and then be like, 'No, I wasn't.'"

"OMG, totz," said JerseyGirl.

"I'm so glad I'm solstice," said Twathopper.

"Why, because you only have to deal with dumb bitch drama and never get laid?" I asked scornfully. Twathopper's quest to "L some P" has not been fulfilled yet, but she is indeed truly a lesbian because she has five bitches blowing up her phone trying to talk to her about their feelings and their residual drama with their exes. Actually she earned her solstice stripes when she framed a copy of an article one of her would-be sapphic paramours wrote for Runner's World magazine. If that's not a lesbian move, then I didn't go to Smith College.

"Touché, mentor," said Twathopper somewhat meekly. Twathopper acknowledges that the reason she is getting processing rather than pussy is her unwillingness to heed my advice about dumping dumb bitches for not putting out, or at least threatening to. But I digress.

Back to Justin Bobby, the dreamiest piece of ass on meticulously scripted reality television. Justin Bobby may be the dirtiest, nastiest, most ill-mannered loser in all of Hollywood, but I'd totally hit that. In front of Audrina. And then I'd help him out by convincing Audrina that she didn't actually just see me giving JB a BJ. Bitch needs to get her eyes checked. Trust.

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# posted by Razzy @ 7:37 AM 1 Comments Links to this post

Wednesday, April 09, 2008

 

Daily Douchebag: Rumors that I've gone totally gayelle


Name: "I heard you don't like boys anymore"

DOB: 2008

Occupation: cockblocking me

Hometown: the internets

Current residence: my inbox

Douchebaggery:  I just received an e-mail from a male Razzyphile who urged me to reconsider my new decision to be strictly not-dickly, a decision that was news to me.  He also sent me a picture of his dick because he noticed that even though I'm supposedly now a lesbian, I acknowledged that I enjoy weiners and he wanted to remind me what I'd be missing.  While I'm always happy to field pictures of Razzyphiles' genitalia, this compels me to address these rumors in the most clear manner possible.

I AM BISEXUAL.  I AM *NOT* A LESBIAN.

I still like boys, and in fact, I prefer boys.  As much as I think women are beautiful and sexy, and as much as I'm quite partial to a hot set of tits, there's just nothing like a good old-fashioned hard penis.  Furthermore, I like the rest of the boy package too.  I like chest hair and strong arms and hard pecs and the musky smell of balls.  I like deep voices and bodies that are bigger than mine. I like sucking dick, and when it comes right down to it, I'd rather have a dick in my vagina than anything else.  I also tend to get along better with men in relationships (though rare, I have been involved in these).   I don't like to spend a lot of time processing about my feelings.  I like to work through problems directly so we can get back to fucking.  In the one disastrous relationship I had with a woman, we spent 95% of our time dissecting every last nuanced emotion regarding our sapphic coupling, which left very little room for actually getting physical or having any kind of fun.  I know that there are lesbian relationships existing outside that paradigm, but I have yet to be involved in one, unless you count my "special girlfriend."  I don't, since my main ho is one of my good friends that I just happen to sometimes have dirty girl-girl sex with, and it's not like we go on dates unless that term includes us getting shitfaced at bars and picking up guys to tag-team. I don't think she counts it as a technical "relationship" in the classical sense of the word either.

I'm not offended by people calling me a lesbian, because I don't think there's anything wrong with being a lesbian.  If you want to restrict your diet to the sushi bar, it's none of my business.  I think people should just fuck who they want and it shouldn't be a big deal to anyone.  It's just that I'm not a lesbian.  I'm bisexual, and irritated by the fact that bisexuality is often discounted as either a pitstop on the way to tuna town or an attention-getting technique rather than a legitimate sexual orientation.

Although it took me a while to come out as bisexual (mainly because I was splitting rhetorical hairs over whether or not I can consider myself that since I just bang chicks and don't have committed relationships with them), I am comfortable with that label and believe that it is an accurate description for my tastes in the bedroom.  However, in my case, I have to quash these rumors that I've fully committed to carpet munching, because I don't want the fellas to be discouraged from trying to hit this hotness.  As the term "bisexual" implies, I like to get busy with both men and women.  My bisexuality is not some transitional stage meant to ease me into giving up dick altogether, nor is it some insincere show that I put on in order to attract men.  I genuinely like having sex with people of both genders, and I'm still mystified by the apparent fact that this isn't clear to people, especially since I've addressed this directly in the past. 

So, for the record, just because I'm down to let hot chicks sit on my face doesn't mean I've instituted a "No Boys Allowed" policy with regard to my vagina.  My legs are still open for business, and by "business," I mean "dick."  Feel free to continue sending me pictures of your weiners, though.  Penis pictures make me smile.

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# posted by Razzy @ 7:08 AM 1 Comments Links to this post

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

 

The Same Old Ugly-Ass Broad Kind of Ladies' Night

Yesterday, ElCyd Gchatted me about my disastrous run-in with Blu the morbidly obese bulldyke at the Cubby Hole this weekend, and we got to bitching about the lesbian scene in our respective cities:
ElCyd: even though my skinny dog-walker named Blue is clearly not the same "Blu" from this weekend, I feel compelled to apologize anyway.
Razzy: LOL
ElCyd: for serious
Razzy: yeah "skinny" is NOT the adjective for old Blu
Razzy: ugh i was so annoyed
Razzy: never mind that there are only like 4 lesbian bars in nyc
Razzy: this is the only one that has chicks i'd even remotely CONSIDER effing at it
ElCyd: (a whopping 4 more than in dc)
Razzy: and this slut has to piss jamba juice all over my game
ElCyd: i was so irritated just reading it.
ElCyd: mostly because those are the only dykes in dc
Razzy: WHY are those crusty old bulldykes like that???
Razzy: it's SO common in that particular lezzie demographic!
ElCyd: they're the only ones who go out
ElCyd: at least regularly
Razzy: yeah because they're the only ones not all coupled up
ElCyd: although i'm surprised that you didn't roll to the shack.
Razzy: well, it's in brooklyn
ElCyd: you'd think there would be more femmes there trying to hit it
Razzy: and andro hipster lezzies annoy me too
ElCyd: right
Razzy: we'll probably go there some night when CasseeNova is around
Razzy: might as well see some familiar faces as long as i'm trekking all the way out to the slope
ElCyd: word.
ElCyd: i'm both fascinated and annoyed by hipster lezzies.
Razzy: i seriously can't believe there are no lez bars in DC
Razzy: DC gets lamer every time I hear something new about it
ElCyd: seriously
ElCyd: at least we have better and better food
Razzy: like, where do the ladies meet?
ElCyd: but that just makes us fat
Razzy: craigslist?
ElCyd: there's a rotating party - www.adkln.com
ElCyd: it's a once a week thing
ElCyd: and they have the regular "ladies night" festivities at the area bars
ElCyd: i mean, there's always Phase 1 or "the phase"
ElCyd: which is, i guess, a real deal lesbo bar
Razzy: hey they have one of these adkln things in NYC
ElCyd: but no one ever goes.
Razzy: these ladies night things
Razzy: oh
Razzy: dude the music on the website SUCKS
ElCyd: right?
ElCyd: fucking lame
Razzy: oh damn there's one tomorrow!
ElCyd: the chick who owns adkln has wanted to branch out
ElCyd: so it makes sense that they're in nyc
ElCyd: how does it look?
Razzy: well, i like the sound of "women, drinks specials, no cover"
Razzy: and there's a hottish ho on the site
ElCyd: look at the photos
ElCyd: it'll give you an idea of who goes
Razzy: ugh horsefaced girls playing ping pong
Razzy: annoying hipster dykes
Razzy: talking about teagan and sara
ElCyd: oh, ew.
ElCyd: gross
ElCyd: not that the scene in dc is better
ElCyd: but still
Razzy: jesus there is this one bitch
Razzy: who looks like she's going to eat me
Razzy: and not in a good way
ElCyd: omg
ElCyd: with the mutant teeth?
Razzy: YES
It's official: lesbians are the lamest party group in the universe. This is surprising because I know many lesbians who can tear it up, but I guess that's probably why those lesbians aren't crazily into the lezzie scene. A social scene doesn't get more abysmally, insufferably boring than this (at least, not without throwing in a performance by the Smiffenpoofs or some other caterwauling Smith College acapella group).  Now I know what happened to all those girls at Smith who lived in one of the houses famed for extreme mousiness and overall fuggery (Morris, Lawrence, Albright, Baldwin, Hopkins, Hubbard, etc.).  They are all sipping fuzzy navels at "A Different Kind of Ladies Night."


If you check out the photo gallery, you'll note two things: 
1. Only about six lesbians go to these things
2. They're all BUTT-ASS UGLY

Take, for example, the prettiest girl there:
Nothing gets this low-rent Mandy Moore lookalike in the mood for some snatch-licking like a sexy game of PING-PONG.  Not even beer pong?  Losers.

There's also the aforementioned porker with "the mutant teeth."  She's in a lot of the pictures, repping hard for the lezzie BBWs:

Again, Porky the Pie-Eater looks hungry, and even if I got drunk enough to mentally take 50 pounds off her, I'd be too scared she wouldn't think my goodies were a damn tuna melt or something.  Back to the Old Country Buffet with you.  You are not the one for me, fatty.

And of course there's a "Little Boy Lesbian" in attendance.  These are the kind of lesbians who, for whatever reason, are taking style cues from Holden Caulfield.  This one is sassing it up with a shirt encouraging me to "Avoid Temptation." 

As tempted as I was by her lack of a figure, somehow I managed to avoid mentally ripping off her many layers of t-shirts and ravaging her in the boudoir of my mind.

Also, there's a Pixie Lesbo.  You know this girl is totally a vegan.

Ugh, I can already imagine all the fairies and crystals and crap this bitch has stuck all over her apartment.  She probably doesn't shave her pits, either.   Gross.

Alert Macauley and Kieran!  The Culkin brood is missing a baby dyke!

(In fairness, I can't bust too hard on this one because she kind of looks like me circa 1995.  Give her a tattered copy of Arial and a Hole CD and she could be me).

And fresh from the pages of the Brothers Grimm comes this busted ball of frizz.

Sorry, honey, but I'm not into banging broads who look like they'll lure me to their gingerbread house and cook me into a stew.

Seven words: Smith College Science Fiction and Fantasy Society (SSFFS)

Back in my Smith days, SSFFS (pronounced like "Sisyphus") was my favorite club to bust on, because their office was next door to the newspaper where I worked.  I was always hassling them.  They'd complain we were blasting the Def Leppard too loudly, and I'd tell them they were reading their Robert Heinlein novels too loudly in response.  Trust that this chick has a Philip K. Dick book stashed in her purse for the train ride home (alone) from ladies' night.

What lesbian party would be complete without a shiteous duo of armband tat-sporting fugly singer/songwriters clad head-to-toe in Urban Outfitters faux vintage casual wear?  I can already hear the atonal Jewel covers full of lyrics about emotion and feelings drifting across the ping-pong tables.

"These hands are small, I know, but they are not yours, they are my own."

I don't see how this is a "different kind of ladies' night," because from what I can tell, this looks like every lame Smith party I ever went to.  All they need is a teapot, a Subaru, and a "Smith College 1875-1975: A Century of Women on Top" shirt and we may as well be in Northampton, Assachusetts.  It's the same old busted girls with no life and terrible taste in what makes a social gathering fun: carousing, hollering, showing your tits, drinking more than one non-fruit-flavored beer, making out with people, and generally causing a ruckus.  Go back to your lame fucking nonprofit jobs and call me when you actually DO have a different kind of ladies night (specifically, when "different" means there will be hot chicks and a decent party!)

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# posted by Razzy @ 8:20 AM 1 Comments Links to this post

Monday, March 10, 2008

 

Daily Douchebag: fat ugly overbearing lesbians who call me "Britney"


RAZZY Note: this isn't the fat, ugly, overbearing lesbian I am particularly annoyed with, but it's the closest approximation I could find with a Google search for "fat ugly lesbian." This is Daphne Wright, a deaf lezzie who murdered some chick that was hitting on her girlfriend. Currently the South Dakota Supreme Court is deciding whether or not to put her on death row, because it might be cruel and unusual to execute someone who can't hear.

Name: on Saturday, she introduced herself to me as "Blu"

DOB: ???-mid-70s-???

Occupation: hitting on me via insults, being pushy and obnoxious, clitblocking me with the cute femme chicks at the Cubby Hole

Hometown: the Bronx, New York, New York

Current residence: cruising for bitches in the Village of the West

Douchebaggery: As I mentioned last week, I spent Saturday night at the lezzie bar trying to get some pussy for my honey-loving protegee Twathopper. She didn't manage to score any gash, but she did chat up a few ladies quite comfortably and didn't run away from any of them in terror, so I think the night was overall a success. Unfortunately, I didn't have as much luck in the comfortable chatting with the cute girls department.

The night started off very promising. We ate some delicious sushi, and got a few saketinis in the tank to bolster Twathopper's courage for rubbing elbows with the fingerbangity set, and set out for the West Village buoyant with optimism. Although it took forever to get a drink and the bar was crowded enough to warrant negative attention from the fire marshal, we started off by flirting with a couple of relatively pretty lipstick chicks. Sadly, those girls left to go clubbing, so we stepped out to smoke a cigarette, where I was set upon by a fat, hideously ugly butch dyke named Blu.

After showing off her pocketful of Jamba Juice gift cards, Blu managed to get a few minutes of our time by offering us a blunt, which I will neither confirm nor deny we smoked. During this time she regaled us with her opinion on my looks. Apparently in Blu's estimation, I was the hottest girl in the bar. This would have been better coming from someone not more busted than a '79 Pacer with no muffler. I'm not kidding when I say that Blu looked like a bald cupcake in an ill-fitting Akademks sweatshirt. Thus we headed back inside, but were unable to shake Blu. Blu insisted on introducing me to all her ugly butch friends...as BRITNEY.

"My name is ANGIE," I insisted.

"Okay, Britney."

"Don't call me Britney!"

"Why? Britney's hot, Britney."

Is this 2002? Because the last time I checked, the legendary Ms. Britney Spears has been looking a whole lot more like a stray bitch in whelp than the hot piece of ass she once was six years ago. As much as I love Britney, I don't consider being compared to her a compliment. Not to mention I don't have a weave with rats nesting in it, I wasn't wearing torn fishnets, I don't rock the Lee Press-On nails, and I've never been accused of giving off a persistent odor of yesterday's Taco Bell. I was also wearing the standard Razzy uniform (jeans, high heeled boots, and a V-neck titty shirt) rather than my Halloween costume, so these dykes' insistence on referring to me as "Britney" was really, REALLY pissing me off.

"My name is not Britney," I finally said to Blu's main wingbutch. "My name is ANGIE, and I don't like being called Britney."

"But you're blonde," said Wingbutch. "Blu always goes for you little blonde white girls."

Ohhhh, I see. Because Blu has a racial fetish, I'm supposed to just answer to "Britney" like a good dumb blonde. Sorry, bitches, but I don't accomodate insults just because your fat ugly ass wants to play with a Barbie.

"Well, that's fine," I said to Wingbutch. "And I may be blonde, but I'm not a dumb fucking bitch. I'm getting a Ph.D at Columbia. In SCIENCE. And my NAME IS ANGIE."

At least Twathopper was spending this time flirting with a cute chick. I'm glad at least one of us wasn't having her game irreparably tainted by this posse of overbearing, pushy, possessive harpie lumberjacks. When she took a break from her mark, I was like, "Dude, we have to get outside and smoke. NOW."

We escaped outside for a minute, until Blu caught on and came out to find me.

"You're not LEAVING, are you, Britney?"

"PLEASE stop calling me Britney," I said, exasperated.

"Look, you've got to call me, Britney. I'm not like these other girls. I want to get to know YOU. I'm all about YOU."

"How about you start by calling me by my real name?"

Blu ignored this. "I am into having a relationship with YOU. It's all about YOU. The sex is secondary, it's about the relationship with YOU."

"Well, that's where we've got a problem. I do chicks, not relationships. The sex is PRIMARY for me." I thought to myself this was yet another piece of evidence validating my theory that only hideous people think sex is unimportant.

"Oh, I'll change that."

"Yeah, sure. You know, the guys I hook up with aren't trying to wife me. They also call me Angie."

"Oh...you're BI, Britney?"

"Yeah," I said defiantly. "I play both sides of the ball."

"I'll change that."

"Whatevs. Later, Blu." Twathopper and I rushed off into a cab. I was totally pissed. My well of potential pussy had been completely poisoned by Blu and her disrespectful, entitled insistence on being the worst girlfriend ever.

What the fuck is up with these big, burly old butches? They can be worse than men in terms of objectifying and diminishing chicks they set their sights on. Blu didn't listen to a goddamn word I said and just tried to bully her way into my snatch. In spite of her lame sales pitch about being interested in knowing me, she couldn't even address me by my actual name. I can think of very few times I've ever been so minimized by someone who wanted to get in my pants. I've fucked frat boys in bathrooms who treated me with greater humanity and kindness. I guess Blu has to count on manipulating the insecurities of her targets, because she's not scoring pussy based on her utterly unfuckable fat ugliness. However, I am not insecure, and I won't be suckered into getting head from a morbidly obese asshole because of inept attempts to strip me of my identity and possess me. Find some other bitch to spend your Jamba Juice gift cards on. Blu wishes she could kiss my hot ass.

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# posted by Razzy @ 9:01 AM 1 Comments Links to this post

Friday, March 07, 2008

 

Twathopper is ready to spring

Although I've been trying to dispense useful advice about running a stable of hos and becoming technically proficient at girl-girl sex to my lesbian apprentice Twathopper, she hasn't had much luck with the ladies.  By "luck with the ladies" I mean she hasn't gotten further than second base.  Her problem is that she doesn't know how to pick decent girls.  Her first would-be girlfriend, Writersprout, was so lame that her hobbies are baking vegan cupcakes and SUBLETTING.  Sure, I'd like to experience living in other New York neighborhoods too, but moving every three months?  Sha right...get a life, loser.  She then went on a couple dates, one with some overbearing bulldyke who asked her 5 minutes into the date if she had "any questions to ask me about the lesbian community" because this bitch was so confident in her stereotypical representation of the lady gays that she appointed herself spokesbitch for all of us (yes, I'm including bisexuals like me under the heading of "lady gays.")  Her next would-be girlfriend, Sarah Babysits, hasn't put out after like 10 dates, is a former tweaker, current pill-popping drug addict, and perennial compulsive liar, and is an adult who actually BABYSITS for a living.  Twathopper just tried to dump Sarah Babysits via text message but the girl was so dumb she actually thought Twathopper was FLIRTING with her.  Twathopper's record with the ladies so far is a cautionary tale as to why Nerve.com is not a fertile hunting ground for either a fulfilling relationship or a hot lay.

Anyway, Twathopper is a grown woman who has recently embraced her lesbianism in her late twenties.  Therefore, she doesn't need to spend a lot of time processing about how she has gone "solstice;" she's ready to lose her lez virginity.  Since it's not looking like Sarah Babysits is going to help out in this department (she's spit a lot of the "let's take it slow, I've been hurt before, so let's just kiss and talk" game that was so popular with the boobmashers on the four-year plan at Smith College) and since she's a despicable character anyway, I told Twathopper that she needs to drop her flies into a new honey hole.

There's just one problem with this: Twathopper's last trip to a place where lesbians congregate and drink was disastrous.  She went with JerseyGirl and her boyfriend Kodiak to this hipster lezzie bar in Brooklyn called Cattyshack.  Cattyshack is generally filled with the New York City equivalent of the Smith College BDOC (Big Dyke on Campus): androgynous, too-cool-for-school bitches who drink PBR from a can for kitsch value, read and/or publish zines, brag about their love of bands nobody's ever heard of, carry messenger bags manufactured by either Brooklyn Industries or Manhattan Portage, and wear cumbersome glasses whether they need vision correction or not.  I'm under the impression that Twathopper likes cute, femmy brunettes, so the selection of available women at Cattyshack wasn't really her style.  Furthermore, she's got a problem with nerves.  According to all accounts, one of the hot lipstick chicks there took a shine to Twathopper and JerseyGirl took it upon herself to bring her over to meet Twathopper, and according to Twathopper herself, she "bugged."  She ran outside to smoke a cigarette and thus effectively clitblocked herself.  I advised her that fleeing in terror from interested hot chicks is not an effective strategy for picking up pussy at the gay bar.

So this weekend, I am taking it upon myself to get Twathopper laid.  On Saturday night, we will be slutted out and getting trashed at this fine establishment in the Village of the West, the aptly named Cubby Hole:


Originally this was supposed to be a big group outing, but JerseyGirl and Kodiak bailed because they have to get up early and go running on Sunday.  This is just as well, because I think a big part of Twathopper's problem is nervousness about having an audience for her maiden voyage into Oyster Bay.  Therefore, we're going out for dinner (raw fish...OF COURSE) with JerseyGirl and Kodiak first, where I plan to ensure that Twathopper is well-lubed with vodka martinis prior to hitting the lesbian bar with just me.  And not that I'm some kind of lesbo pick-up artist or something, but I'm enough of a player, a drunk, and a generally competent barfly to be a useful wingslut in exactly this situation.  Besides, maybe I'll nail some hot chick too!  
Razzy: so jerseygirl made us sushi reservations for 7:30 pm saturday!
Twathopper: word up
Twathopper: sushi! then lezzies.
Twathopper: perfecto
Razzy: tuna fest
Razzy: it's going to be rad
Twathopper: hahahah
Twathopper: it shall
Twathopper: no matter what happens, i know you and i can certainly make a night out one for the books
Razzy: FA SHO!
Twathopper: i feel shots coming on
Twathopper: yes razzy, yes i do
Razzy: hopefully you will at least conquer your fear of talking to lesbians in social settings
Twathopper: that would be good
Razzy: or at least talking to unfamiliar lesbians
Razzy: particular unfamiliar but cute lesbians who are trying to talk to you
Twathopper: true that
Twathopper: hopefully some lesbian ground will be broken and officially conquered on sat night
Twathopper: and it's better that a bunch of other people don't come b/c i get pretty self conscious with them there
Razzy: yeah i think that when it's a group thing there's more pressure for you
Razzy: like, "let's all watch twathopper try to hit on chicks"
Twathopper: EXACTLY
Razzy: i will be too busy trying to get pussy for myself to pay too much attention to criticizing your moves
Razzy: i mean, of course i'll help out wingman style
Twathopper: i just told my other friends i wouldn't meet them out b/c of this
Twathopper: i'm all balls this week
Twathopper: yesssss
Razzy: NICE
Razzy: that's the spirit, twathopper!
Twathopper: so hopefully it'll transfer over to sat night
Razzy: well i hope so
Razzy: and again,
Razzy: since it's not like twathopper the lesbian show
Razzy: hopefully it will be like a nice, normal night
Razzy: you know
Razzy: go have some drinks
Razzy: find some honey
Razzy: bang her brains out
Twathopper: getting drunk and making out
Twathopper:: hahaha
Razzy: or that
Twathopper: find some honey
Razzy: yeah!
Razzy: we'll make sure you drink plenty of liquid courage before we hit the cubby hole
Twathopper: i'm always at my best when there's no expectations on the night
Razzy: exax
Twathopper: oh totes
Razzy: maybe we'll run into sarah babysits
Razzy: oh wait, she's probs babysitting
Razzy: or getting zonked on OCs and Xanax and meth
Twathopper: ding ding ding
Twathopper: she babysits like every sat night
Twathopper: loser
Twathopper: prolly half coked out on OCs
Razzy: here is Sarah Babysits's CV:
Razzy: Experience:
Razzy: 1. Babysitting
Razzy: 2. Methamphetamine addiction
Twathopper: AHAHAHAHA
Razzy: 3. Prescription pill devourer
Razzy: 4. Lesbian virgin
Razzy: 5. Self-involved prude
Twathopper: 5. Text message connoisseur
Razzy: 6. Bad liar
Razzy: 7. Dumbass unable to recognize withering sarcasm
Twathopper: 8. horrible communication skills
Razzy: 9. Ugly
Twathopper: well i can't say that
Razzy: (okay, she's not ugly, but i just hate her)
Twathopper:: but i should start
Razzy: she's ugly on the inside!
Razzy: Yeah, I'd hire her to watch my kids
Twathopper: yeah 9. hated by twathopper's friends
Razzy: TRUTH
Razzy: and we haven't even met her
Twathopper: hahahaha
Razzy: but i can tell you she is assuredly despicable
Twathopper: assuredly
Razzy: 10. Bev Niner fan POSEUR  [RAZZY Edit: Sarah Babysits claims she loves "Beverly Hills, 90210" despite being only 23.]
Twathopper: i know!
Twathopper: b/c she was honestly in FIRST grade when it started
Razzy: 11. Dork and pukemeister  [RAZZY Edit: this derogatory insult can be attributed to Kelly Taylor regarding a certain David Silver vomiting out of her convertible BMW on the way home from the "underground club" where Emily Valentine slipped U4EA into Brandon Walsh's Sprite]
Twathopper: and she said her mom let her watch that shit
Twathopper: uhh a 7 yr old watching that?
Razzy: 12. This bitch is never again  [RAZZY Edit: Also courtesy of the incomparable Ms. Kelly Taylor]
Twathopper: yessssssssssssssss
Razzy:: if we run into her, i'm totz throwing a drink on her
Razzy: i can bring the lezzie dramz
Razzy: and i'm bringing drink-throwing back into vogue
Twathopper: yesssssss
Twathopper: this is gonna be fun
Razzy: yesterday it was (this one dude I boned)
Twathopper: omg!
Razzy: saturday it will be sarah babysits
Razzy: then, it's the world!
Razzy:: fear razzy and her flying glass of scotch!
Twathopper: guess who is SUBLETTING in the westr village right now
Twathopper: WRITERSPROUT
Twathopper: if we see her, it's on
Razzy: YESSSS
Razzy: although she probs hangs out at cattyshack since she's such a brooklyn snob
Twathopper: well when she does this subletting thing she really focuses on the "new neighborhood"
Twathopper: good god i hope we see her
Razzy: i hope we do too
Razzy: i'll keep my drink-throwing arm limber
I have high hopes for Twathopper. After Saturday, she's going to be--per her terminology--"legit solstice." Before you know it, she'll be an old pro capable of sucking the pink out of a salmon. TRUST.

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# posted by Razzy @ 8:04 AM 5 Comments Links to this post

Monday, March 03, 2008

 

Surrender Razzy

Today I got an e-mail from a new Razzyphile who just discovered my site:
From: Bongo Hercules (bongohercules@freeemailplace.com)
To: Razzy (razzy@razzy.org)
Subject: what's cookin' good lookin'?

Hi there! I'd like to audition for your rejects page! I'm old!  I'm not fat or bald, or married, but I DO have a lot of disgusting body hair and I can probably work up a soul-curdling grin.

Wanna fuck me yet?

I'd have sent a picture, but I don't have any babies around. What if I take a picture of my dick next to a cabbage patch doll?

Sorry. I think I'm funny.
What I really wrote you about is I noticed your picture with the strap-on and wanted to clue you on some internetty stuff that might be useful to you.
First, the double-strap harness with thigh straps will give you better control than those panty looking things with the thin vinyl straps. The vacu-lock system is the most relied upon, and you can get it from jt's stockroom,(http://www.stockroom.com/) and see it in action, with dozens of variants on doggystyle girl-girl sex at http://ultimatesurrender.com.

If you've never heard of ultimate surrender, it's a site where girls wrestle and then the winner fucks the loser. If you ask me, this thing has prime-time ESPN written all over it. Me and some dyke friends follow it religiously, and they seem to like it as long as the femmy porn-star girls lose. When the big dykey girls lose they get uncomfortable for some reason. Trust me, it's at least as cool as Battlebots. (Not what I'd call erotic, exactly, but it has a warped charm. It's sort of what I think cheerleader camp ought to be...)
I guess now would be a good time to tell everyone that I figured out how to bang a broad doggystyle with my strap-on.  I appreciated all the good advice I got, and it turns out all I needed was a little practice, which my special girlfriends have been more than gracious about giving me opportunities to do.  In spite of now being a slightly more experienced dilettante in the field of fake penis-fucking, I always am happy to watch professionals in action and "at least as cool as Battlebots" is enough of a selling point for a nerd like myself, so I went over to Ultimate Surrender to check it out.

Ah, of course.  Ultimate Surrender is run by kink.com.  Kink.com is an online porn production company known for running various fetish porn sites.  Among their sites are Fuckingmachines.com (women get penetrated in every orifice by a variety of power tools modified with sex toys ie: "the drilldo"), Wiredpussy.com (women get electrodes hooked up to their snatches and shocked), Meninpain.com (women beat the shit out of male submissives), and Hogtied.com (pretty self-explanatory).  Kink.com is also notorious in the porn industry for frightening talent out of the business by mistreating them horribly.  I would argue in kink.com's defense that any would-be porn skank shooting for a site called wiredpussy.com shouldn't be surprised when they break out the alligator clips and the car battery, but I digress.  Compared to the rest of kink.com's offerings, Ultimate Surrender is pretty tame.

Anyway, I didn't want to pay to watch an Ultimate Surrender match in its entirety, but I was disappointed with what I did see.  First, there was less strap-on action than I would have liked (because let's face it, the whole I-eat-you-out-you-eat-me-out paradigm of lesbian porn is booooooooorrrrrrrrriiiiiinnnnnnggggg), and what I did see was kind of ridiculous.  It seems like wrestling while wearing a strap-on would be cumbersome and put the competitor as a disadvantage.  I have zero experience in wrestling apart from watching WWE and having exuberant sex with multiple position changes, so my first order of business if I were going twat-to-twat with an experienced butch porn wrestler like "Vendetta," "Spartica," or "The Hungarian Nightmare" would be to grab that bitch by the fake cock and start swinging her around the ring.  

Furthermore, it seems like fucking the loser is less of a prize than one would imagine.  Shouldn't the loser have to fuck the winner?  The winner has to do all the work!  Ever since I started hitting the ladies with my strap-on, I have a newfound respect for men.  Fucking someone with a penis is hard work!  If I won a vicious lesbian wrestling match and my prize was to throw my back out giving orgasms to some skank I defeated, I'd withdraw from competition.  Those orgasms should be mine!  That's almost worse than winning "Flavor of Love" and being awarded with a cheap-ass grill and the opportunity to sit on shriveled hood-hobbit dick.  The Ultimate Surrender seems like the Ultimate Rip-off as far as I am concerned.

That said, I do agree with Bongo Hercules that this should be on ESPN.  It might need a little tweaking to suit my taste, but I'll take hardcore lezzie wrassling over those poker tournaments they have on ad nauseum any day.  Besides, it's "non-scripted," so it probably qualifies as a sport rather than "sports entertainment" like WWE.  And there should be more lesbians on TV not named "Ellen" or "Rosie" anyway.  Call your cable company today and demand "Ultimate Surrender."  Hell, it's got at least as good a chance of getting on cable as the NFL Network.

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# posted by Razzy @ 8:10 AM 0 Comments Links to this post

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

 

I'm kind of a lesbian

Last night, at my friend Neo's birthday dinner, I was talking sex (what's new) with another friend from grad school, who I'll call RunnerGirl. Somehow it came up that I had wanted to bone her recent ex-boyfriend (who rejected me on grounds of "intimidation"), and we were laughing about it. Then RunnerGirl said something like, "Not that you care about that these days."

"Huh?" I said.

"Aren't you into girls now? That's what I heard," said RunnerGirl. Ah...God bless the grad student rumor mill, which churns 24/7 spewing filth like an industrial revolution-era coal-powered textile factory.

"Oh, I'm into everything now. I still like boys plenty. I'm a switch hitter," I explained. Later I started thinking about this. Just because recently I decided to be way more open and aggressive about pursuing honeys of the double-X karyotype, everyone now thinks I'm a lesbian!

I'm not sure who told RunnerGirl I'm rocking it on the full-time dyke tip, and I'm not mad at RunnerGirl or her source about it, but it's not really correct. People get really uptight about labels, but I don't really care about what people say about my sexuality. I mean, I also get called things like "slut" and "bitch," and it's no big thing for me. However, in the interest of accuracy, I am really bisexual. The truth is, I like the ladies a whole lot ever since I remembered that lezzie sex can be much more about hot carpet munching than processing and snuggling, but I'm never giving up the dick. Banging dudes is hella fun.

Granted, there have been a lot more scenes like this at grad school parties lately:

(That's actually not a grad student, but my friend Miss Corbutt at a party in Tacoma years ago, and we weren't so much having a hot makeout sesh as we were goofing around for the camera, hence it looks like I'm eating her face. Sadly, I couldn't dig up a more recent photo of myself sucking face with grad school chicks so I had to go with what I had, outdated as it is. Seriously, Miss Corbutt and I are like 22 in this picture.)

I've been doing a lot of girlie lip-locking with the various bi-curious hookers in grad school, and I guess that, along with my regular discussion of my sexual conquests with the fairer sex, has given people the erroneous impression that I am now ordering exclusively off the seafood menu. Again, it's not like I care or that I am insulted that the word on the street is I'm one mullet haircut away from being a total dyke, but I wonder why people feel the need to instantly apply the label "lesbian" just because I've taken a few dips in the tuna tank. Are people more comfortable with the idea that you're either gay or straight, and there's not anything in between? Because that's not the reality.

Almost every woman I know who considers herself a "lesbian" has slept with a man at some point. LL Cool Jew, who came out in junior high and was about as lesbish as it gets, married a man. I don't think BigBagel "converted" her, but he was an exception to her normal preference and just happened to be the love of her life. I don't really consider her "straight" even if she is in a monogamous heterosexual marriage. Likewise, my cousin's wife--after two hetero marriages and a string of boyfriends--left my cousin for another woman. I think more people are bisexual in one form or another at some point in their lives, and it's not like once you deviate from your usual sexual pattern, you commit to staying the deviant course permanently. For me, the usual course is nailing hot dudes, but I reserve the right to get my lipstick lezzie on whenever I feel like it. And not that I don't love women and like both giving and receiving cunnilingus, but it's not like pussy is so fucking fabulous that I'd never gaze covetously at an erect penis ever again.

I am curious as to why people are so quick to assign restrictively defined sexual labels based on who you are sleeping with today. Is it just easier to call someone a "lesbian" than acknowledge that most people live in a sexual gray area? Or is it because of disdain for bisexuality? Certainly, there are factions of the gay community that view bisexuality in a very negative light, as though bisexuals are too afraid to admit they're fully gay or straight people pissing on the gays' fire hydrant. There are also plenty of heterosexuals (usually the ones who think that God hates fags) who find bisexuals even more morally bereft than people who are strictly gay. Are people uncomfortable with the idea of bisexuality, and thus prefer to define others as 100% gay or straight? Or are people just confused about it? I'd love to hear what y'all Razzyphiles' thoughts are on the matter.

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# posted by Razzy @ 8:58 AM 2 Comments Links to this post

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

 

Licking snatch for dummies

I'm not calling her a dummy, but one of my friends has recently decided that she's a lesbian, and has looked to yours truly for some sage advice on how to get with the scene. While some of you are probably scoffing and thinking that this is the blind leading the blind, let me be the first to admit that while I suck at things like cohabitating and attending open mic nights and making tea and liking folk music, I am awesome at soliciting strangers for random dirty sex. Plus, while I am primarily a dick-jockey, I've certainly had my face in its fair share of female crotches, I have practical, experience-based knowledge of the technical aspects of banging broads, and I did go to Smith College. I'm better qualified than many to be a newbie dyke's lesbian mentor.

Anyway, this friend--who has another name on this site but who for this post I will call Twathopper (as in "you are learning, grasshopper," except about vaginas instead of kung-fu)--is doing the online dating thing and thanks to some of my tips about how to keep the bitches clamoring for her by being selective about returning game-spitting text messages, has some solid prospects for finally becoming "legit." A while ago, she told me she had finally made out with some straight girl at a bar and was thus "legit." I argued that her legitimacy as a lesbian was established a year before when she voluntarily had an article for Runner's World written by some dumb Brooklyn hipster she was jocking matted and framed as a just-because-you're-my-friend (sha) gift. That's about as lesbish as it gets short of showing up in a U-Haul with all your shit in it after two dates. Anyway, she was insisting that sucking straight girl face was a more tangible milestone to full-fledged dykehood than infatuated gift-giving, and I said that if she was going to dictate her lezzie status based on physical consummation, then it was high time she started kissing a different set of lips.

Now that she has some prospects thanks to my outstanding methods of reeling in chicks from the online WSW community, we discussed her next steps in a recent Gchat.
Razzy: dude
Razzy: how is the solstice dating circuit treating you???
Twathopper: dude
Razzy: have you l'd any p yet???
Twathopper: i haven't l'd any p yet no not yet
Twathopper: but i did make out again
Razzy: well that's a start
Razzy: with the social worker? [RAZZY Note: We call this bitch either "social worker"--as that is her job--or "Sarah Babysits," because until Twathopper pimped up her texting game that was what she was always doing instead of getting busy with Twathopper.]
Twathopper: so i've got the making out down i think now
Twathopper: we'll see on friday i guess
Razzy: OOOOOOO, date?!?!
Twathopper: yes date on fri- she's staying over i think
Razzy: you better go dildo shopping thursday then!
Razzy: and trim those nails!
Twathopper: hahaha
Razzy: and shave your snatch--i totz hate getting a huge faceful of bush
Twathopper: i really have to trim my nails?
Razzy: YES
Razzy: YES
Razzy: YES
Twathopper: my snatch is always shaved
Razzy: i cannot emphasize that enough
Razzy: there is nothing
Razzy: NOTHING
Razzy: worse than getting FB'd by a chick with long nails
Razzy: ouch
Razzy: every time i see that in porn i just CRINGE
Razzy: i mean, you do know that you don't just like stick your finger straight in there, right?
Razzy: you want to do more of a beckoning motion
Twathopper: yes that i know
Razzy: that is ouchy with long nails
Razzy: i have had lots of stern conversations with my special GF about that
Twathopper: and i guess it would hurt the little guy too
Razzy: thank god she got the message
Razzy: i mean you can get away with it if you stick to external action only
Razzy: but who wants to limit herself in the sack?
Twathopper: i love my nails!
Razzy: well, learn to love celibacy then, because you ain't scoring repeat pussy with long nails
Twathopper: i'm also kinda hoping that maybe i can just follow her lead
Twathopper: or maybe just let her do all the stuff the first time- ha!
Razzy: NO!
Razzy: come on dude
Razzy: just because you are an amateur lez doesn't mean you have to act like it
Twathopper: ohh good point
Razzy: just get on in there and start working on your technique
Twathopper: yeah
Twathopper: but it's gonna be hard to l some p the very first time
Twathopper: maybe i'll just stick with hands
Twathopper: that i can handle
Twathopper: i mean i know i can handle that, the L'n P might be too much off the bat
Razzy: L'n p is easy
I figured there had to be something on the internets to provide simple, coherent instructions to convince Twathopper that cunnilingus is easy and fun. Sure enough, a quick Google search of "lesbian sex how-to" turned up some helpful sites.
Razzy: http://people.ucsc.edu/~aaarons/lesbiansex101.html
Razzy: see? just go for the clit
Razzy: not too challenging
Razzy: ignore that last tip about not forgetting to cuddle
Twathopper: omg- i'm reading this and dying
Razzy: well, i guess you shouldn't ignore the cuddling part since sarah babysits seems mad solstice
Razzy: unlike me, she probably would have issues if she likened her partner to a hetero dude who just wants to roll over and go to sleep
Razzy: i have zero problem with that, or with being compared to a hetero dude myself
Twathopper: she is mad solstice
Razzy: here's another how-to site
Razzy: (and check the crusty-ass dyke who authored this...Kathy BELGE...REALLY?):
Razzy: http://lesbianlife.about.com/b/2005/08/16/lesbian-sex-tip-cunnilingus.htm
Twathopper: omg- w hat a huge lez!
Razzy: seriously
Razzy: she's totz captain of her softball team
Twathopper: for reals
Twathopper: and it seems she knows what she's talking about
Razzy: yes i get the feeling she does
Razzy: she's probably one of those anti-penetration lezzies
Razzy: who doesn't dig the strap-on
Razzy: obviously i have no problem involving dude-type stuff in my hot girl-on-girl
Razzy: including an actual dude
Twathopper: well i'm gonna need something b/c i know oral and fingers ain't gonna cut it
Razzy: but there's a lot of dykes who don't want anything slightly penis-y with their sex
Twathopper: lame
Razzy: need something? like a strap-on?
Razzy: go to fantasy world and pick one up
Razzy: or go to adamandeve.com
Razzy: they send you a free porn with sex toy orders
Razzy: that's where I bought my strap-on
Twathopper: wow i MUST save this chat b/c it will certainly come in handy in the future
Razzy: and 2-sided dildo
Razzy: i'll publish it on my blog
Twathopper: i'm gonna go have to read those things again on friday
Twathopper: but you smith chicks have made it much easier
Razzy: before you know it you'll be taking pictures of yourself running around in nothing but your harness like me
Twathopper: particularly you and jerseygirl
Twathopper: soooo thanks dude.
Razzy: no prob dude
Razzy: i didn't have a lesbian mentor when i was 15
Razzy: i had to learn the hard way
Razzy: so i'm happy to save you the trouble
It seems this fabled Friday sleepover date with Sarah Babysits last Friday was rescheduled for tonight, so to save Twathopper the trouble of digging through her Gchats archives for instructions on how to properly perform oral on a woman, she can just make her usual morning pitstop at RAZZY.org for the links. I'm just getting misty-eyed with pride about the prospect of Twathopper taking the final step to being "legit" and scoring some actual vagina. I can just picture the scene now. After huffing and puffing up the six flights of stairs one has to ascend to reach Twathopper's apartment, they'll pop in one of her old "Buffy" DVDs and put it on mute, crank the Tori Amos, light a few scented candles, and start the foreplay with a couple steaming mugs of chamomile and some intimate conversation about each other's emotions. Then a little light hand-holding will turn into awkward kissing which will turn into boobmashing which will turn into my little Twathopper flowering into the mature lesbian that she is like a lily in a Georgia O'Keefe painting. Blessed be. Go with Goddess, Twathopper! L that P!

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# posted by Razzy @ 7:50 AM 0 Comments Links to this post

Monday, January 28, 2008

 

Miss America STILL sucks

I had a very exciting weekend (read: in lab both days), and thus was able to flip to TLC on Saturday night to catch part of the Miss America pageant. I usually just stick to getting beauty pageant highlights, because those crazy bitches that compete in them are only entertaining offstage. Because Miss America has sucked for the past few decades (since its inception), their ratings have been waning, and this year they tried to "jazz" up the pageant to appeal to new audiences.

After watching five minutes of this, I deemed their effort to modernize Miss America as a total fucking failure. From what I can tell, they hired some loser from "Entertainment Tonight" (I guess Ryan Seacrest is doing Miss USA) to emcee, and put the bitches in jeans during the opening dance number. I guess jeans are an improvement from the coordinated dress outfits they used to wear during the "Parade of States" or whatever, which always looked like a Tina Knowles-designed cross between Tonya Harding's Lillehammer '94 Sergeant Pepper/disco ball skating costume and something that came out of Alexis Morrell Carrington Colby Dexter Rowan's evening formalwear closet. However, the pageant was still boring, so I flipped channels until it was time to announce the winner. I had to switch to "Rock of Love 2" reruns through the entire talent competition for fear of going murderously insane watching hookers tap dance around to appalling arrangements of Scott Joplin's jaunty ragtime favorites and listening to these broads caterwauling showtunes from yesteryear.

When I did change back to TLC for the finale and the "Here she is...Miss America" (which sounds just as not-jazzy as ever), I was disappointed to note that Miss Michigan beat out Miss Washington to win the crown. Miss Michigan looks just as boring as Miss America always does:

I mean, I'm sure she is a fucking lunatic off the stage. She has crazy in the eyes, and you know that underneath that Barbified exterior is a ruthless psychopath. She told the press later that she's a third-generation beauty queen, validating my suspicions about her mental condition. She comes from a family of dysfunctional nutcases. Her mom is an "active volunteer" in the pageant community (translation: stage mom from hell), and I can only imagine what sort of behind-the-scenes sabotage and extortion these two employed to get their hands on the crown. Sadly, unless Miss Michigan-now-America gets into coke or something, her reign as Miss America will probably be as forgettable as all her predecessors. Clearly, the organizers of the Miss America pageant still have a lot to do in order to make this shit timely or remotely interesting. I think it's time for them to get reckless. Their first order of business should be to hire Katie Rees as the head bitch in charge. Katie Rees is a pageant alum herself, and although she was unceremoniously booted from holding the title of Miss Nevada prior to the Miss USA pageant by Donald Trump, she knows how to deliver some compelling entertainment:


Now THAT is a Miss America pageant I would glue myself to the TV for. TLC and Miss America need to seriously consider this for next year. It would be a ratings juggernaut, and Katie Rees probably needs a job. It's a win-win! Trust!

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# posted by Razzy @ 8:29 AM 0 Comments Links to this post

Thursday, January 24, 2008

 

Daily Douchebag: Gayelle


Name: Gayelle

Alias: Sapphysapphian

DOB: 2007

Occupation: the new, more confusing "lesbian"

Hometown: the galaxy of Gayelles

Current residence: the obscure internets

Douchebaggery: The dumb bitches who run sapphicchic.com have decided to create a website "built to catalyze a movement, a movement to define gay-females with an alternative-and-untainted-term; a new word, which is representative of an evolved society and a different time, an ultramodern and progressive one in which a free people, no longer support and or tolerate, the repressive attitudes and derogatory language that has become associated with words such as lesbian." Wait, how is "lesbian" associated with "repressive attitudes" and "derogatory language"? I like "lesbian" and all linguistic derivatives. Lesbian makes for some great language: lez, lesbo, lezbot, lezzie, lezbionic, leztastic, lesbadar, lezbollah, etc. I love the word "lesbian," and, despite the efforts of Rosie O'Donnell and every fat, crusty bitch who ever got her self-righteousness on at Smith's efforts to the contrary, I don't associate it with "repressive attitudes." I associate "lesbian" with hot girl-on-girl action! I definitely do NOT associate this "gayelle" crap with hot snatch-licking and hilarious word truncations. I associate "gayelle" with a bunch of hippie-dippy old dykes with nothing better to do than sit around drinking tea, deconstructing language, and inventing new things to get pissed about out of boredom Validating my suspicions are a series of essays, poems, and tedious short fiction about the genesis of the gayelle movement--if you can call a couple of fugly old bitches in batik skirts listening to Dar Williams and inventing new ways to be ridiculously pretentious about nothing a "movement."
The motivation that inspired the creation of a new word, meaning gay and female, is a long-standing and persistent distaste for the word lesbian. The invention of “gayelle” is with the idea and hope that it will have a worldwide appeal, and ultimately, supersede the word lesbian; a suitable replacement is necessary for positive language and the healthy self-esteem of the gay-female-population.
First off, "gayelle" does NOT have worldwide appeal. Gayelle doesn't do a damn thing for my self-esteem, and I don't know any lesbians who think it would be cooler to call themselves gayelles. I think "fagette" would have been a better choice, both because it doesn't sound--for lack of a better term--completely fucking gay, but it has a better ring to it. It's catchier.
The word lesbian is antiquated; it is not representative of modern times, and or, of persons with modern views. Lesbian does not sound cheerful and fun, nor does it mean merry, like the word gay does; rather, it sounds more like loner, loser, and less. Gay females deserve more, not less.
"Lesbian" may not sound cheerful or fun, but it doesn't sound like "loner, loser, and less" either. "Lesbian" makes me think of cunnilingus and hot naked tits, which makes me cheerful, sounds like fun, and implies great merrymaking. Gayelle sounds to me like "loner, loser, and less." It sounds like something a shut-in who is a loner on account of being a loser who gets less pussy than the average lesbian would come up with.
Moreover, the word lesbian is so frequently used derogatorily, that to be called a lesbian is almost tantamount to being called an offensive name. In a typical T.V.-sitcom scenario, a male character, oftentimes the lead, calls a female character who does not respond favorably to his overtures, “a lesbian,” in a disparaging tone and likewise demeanor, consistent with having the “f” word precede it as in, a “f-ing lesbian.” For this reason, especially, the word lesbian needs to be relegated to a definition that has derogatory implications, much like the words queer and faggot.
Okay, dudes sometimes do call bitches lesbians when their seduction attempts fall flat, but PLEASE. These same dudes are the same ones who call guys fags right before they indiscriminately beat their asses while drunk. Trust that they won't be incorporating "gayelle" into their lexicon anytime soon, and even if they do, they'll still call you a "fucking gayelle" when you shoot down their clumsy offers of sexual congress. Which they won't give you, because you're a busted old, pucker-faced dyke with a mullet, hairy armpits, and one of those jean jackets with a corduroy collar. Fucking lesbians.
The definition of the word gay, proves that for whatever reasons, it is a term that has increasingly become associated specifically with homosexual men. Notwithstanding that, it is apparent that both genders want to reserve a word that distinguishes each from the other. Thus, it seems pragmatic to start anew by using gayelle, instead of lesbian or gay, to represent the gay-female-population.
How is it pragmatic to ensure that people start adopting an entirely new made-up word? Wouldn't it just be easier to stick with lesbian? Gayelle sounds fucking stupid.
By choosing gayelle, the feminine factors in “the equation of who is gay and who is not” can reassert their interest in the word gay, as well as, assert a displeasure for the word lesbian. More importantly, however, to choose gayelle over lesbian, would demonstrate a form of action that, most assuredly, would be helpful in restoring the rightful dignity that belongs to the mothers, daughters, sisters, and friends, who have been victims of hatemongering and or a poorly-conceived joke, and or, a lack of sensitivity.
Again, who is upset about the word lesbian? This is the first I've heard about the overall dissatisfaction with "lesbian." And nobody is reclaiming their lost dignity by answering to gayelle. In fact, on account of it sounding idiotic and being completely fabricated, it actually reduces whatever shreds of dignity any given humorless, uptight lesbian with a chip on her shoulder about semantics possesses.
Gayelle is the logical and reasonable alternative, in that, it contains the words gay and elle (the French pronoun for “she”). Gayelle is a word that has relevance to our time, and it’s easy to say, as in the gay-gayelle community. Unlike the capitalized form of Lesbian, which is defined “a native or inhabitant of Lesbos,” and “of or pertaining to Lesbos;” gayelle and the capitalized form Gayelle, in essence, have the same meaning.
Because people often get very hung up when someone says "lesbian," as they're often confused as to whether or not you're talking about a muff diver or a Greek islander. I know that people often ask me to clarify which capitalization I would use if spelling it so they'll be able to properly distinguish what I'm talking about when I'm dishing about either box munchers or sexy locales in various classical tragedies and epics by Homer.
The choice is yours. Be hip and sapphic-chic with your preference for gayelle. Define this decade of the 21st-century with a new word and a new outlook. Go gayelle!
In short, NO. I have no intention to "go gayelle." It's more sapphictarded than sapphic-chic. Sapphic chic means hot short haircuts, overly geometrical eyeglass frames, and tailored power suits, not invented words that smack of Francophilia. Even worse, I have no intention either of adopting these crusty lezbots' term for me. Apparently "bisexual" makes me sound like a hermaphrodite rather than a big perverted slut, so they've coined a new title that will ostensibly help my self-esteem: hipshe.

Hipshe? HIPSHE? The day I walk into a bar and proclaim to the assorted potential sex partners populating it, "I am Razzy, and I'm a HIPSHE! Who wants to party?" is the day that I may as well cloister myself in a convent, because I'm never getting laid again with that attitude.
A word that does not include the word “sex,” is more acceptable language for any, other than an intellectual conversation. The present vernacular “bisexual,” as a word meaning persons who are attracted to and act upon that attraction to persons of the same and opposite sex, is misuse of the word bisexual as defined, “of both sexes; hermaphrodite,” in Webster’s Dictionary, 1940.
Why is not acceptable for my sexual orientation to be described using the word "sex"? That's what my bisexuality/hipsheness is all about: getting it ON! I know that I sound like an erudite, academic intellectual when I'm bragging about having threesomes, but I think that "sex" is acceptable to include in other conversations about my swinging both ways.
To label those of the above-stated orientation with a word that is synonymous with a word to distinguish one who is born with an anomalous biological condition involving the reproductive organs, is tantamount to saying that one would have to be a freak of nature to feel that sort of mixed desire. For those reasons, the word “bisexual” is a tasteless choice, and it is unfit for use in this context and in our politically – correct – society.
If these bitches are going to spend all their time coming up with new words to rectify the offenses caused by terms like "lesbian" and "bisexual," they might want to brush up on their punctuating. The use of commas in this material is so egregiously incorrect that it's impossible for me to regard the authors as any kind of linguistic experts. And if they suggest that "bisexual" implies "freak of nature," then why haven't they come up with a new, more acceptable term for being tranny? I mean, I don't think that being transgendered makes someone similar to the gear-shifting mechanism of a car, but that's what "tranny" means. By the same logic, transgendered persons should get a similarly stupid word as "gayelle" or "hipshe" to describe them!
Although bisexual is now defined “3. responsive to both sexes” in American Heritage College Dictionary, 3rd edition, it is nevertheless, necessary to find and adopt a suitable replacement. A well known name from antiquity, that has become associated with a woman’s desire for another woman, is Sappho. Therefore, a word or name that brings to mind the intriguing Sappho, seems a legitimate and likely candidate. The name Sapphy could be regarded as a modern and informal form of Sappho. Sapphian looks and sounds like it could mean “like Sappho.” And sapphysapphia is a combination, beautiful to say, but arguably, a bit lengthy for our sound bite – gigabite – world. On the other hand, the thirteen – letter – five – syllable sapphysapphia is made from only six different letters; in alphabetical order they make, ahipsy (a.hip.sy), which looks and sounds close to “a hip she,” hence the creation, hipshe.
Wait, I thought antiquated terms were problematic--hence the issue with lesbian. So why are these bitches suddenly dropping this crap about Sappho? And "sapphysapphian" is not "beautiful to say" unless you consider fabricated redundancy lovely. It sounds like either a she-sells-seashells-down-by-the-seashore tongue twister or the invention of a snatch who thinks she's got Dr. Henry "Indiana" Jones's academic knowledge of antiquity because someone told her that Sappho liked to write poetry about sitting on bitches' faces. I'd rather be called switchyswitchhitter. It's equally cumbersome, but certainly more clear in its meaning.
Hipshe is a logical and practical choice with which to designate those females who have the capacity and moxy to act upon an attraction to those who are biologically similar to, as well as diametrically different from, themselves. Hipshe contains the words she and he, which makes it that much more apropos. What could be better and more hip that that?! Here’s to saying, bye bye to bisexual and thank you to sapphysapphia, from whence came the hip hipshe.
I can think of about ten thousand things that could be better and more hip than hipshe. If there is any word that makes getting down with both my special girlfriends and the fellas sound impossibly lame rather than hot and sexy, it's "hipshe." Hipshe doesn't suggest I have "moxy." It suggests that I'm a pain in the ass shrew more concerned with the vernacular than scoring hot pieces. Hipshe is not "logical and practical." It's the condensed homophone of another stupid, fake word nobody has ever heard of before, and it is probably the quickest means to ensuring that people think you are anything but hip. I'm not thanking any bitch for cooking up "sapphysapphia" and "hipshe" and insisting that I use this instead of "bisexual." In fact, I'm telling these hos busy inventing movements that nobody cares to join that they can shut the fuck up about what is logical and practical (like removing references to sex from discussions about sexuality). I'd rather answer to "freak" than "hipshe." "Skank," "trollop," "slut," "bitchfoxly trull" (I don't really know what that means but I read it in a history book about early America in reference to New York prostitutes working the Bowery) and "ho" would also be acceptable.

The day I hear anyone slinging terms like gayelle and hipshe is the day that I decide to embrace asexuality. I would rather never have sex again with anyone (perish the thought) than identify as a hipshe. Luckily, I don't think most of the general public is going to be swayed by the pages of piss-poor poetry (I wrote better material than that when I was fifteen, and my collected works of teenaged verse read like some unholy combination of Sylvia Plath and a Bikini Kill song on Benadryl) or short fiction they include on the site to "excite and entertain" prospective proponents of gayelle and hipshe. Somehow I don't see gayelle being on the tip of every twat-licking tongue anytime soon. Don't go gayelle!

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# posted by Razzy @ 6:22 AM 1 Comments Links to this post

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

 

Daily Dude I Want to Hit: Razzy Haters


Name: various

DOB: various

Occupation: sipping on the Haterade as they send me comments and e-mails

Hometown: from whence morons arise

Current residence: where morons live

Why I Want to Hit that Hotness: As my traffic has increased, so has the quantity of e-mail and comments I receive, and I couldn't be happier about that. Surprisingly, I'm not so universally hated that the majority of my correspondence is negative. In fact, it's quite the contrary. I would estimate that 95% of the e-mail and comments I get are overwhelmingly positive and say something along the lines of "you're fucking hilarious" and/or "you're hot, put up more naked pictures." These e-mails warm my black, shriveled heart, and fill me with happy thoughts, and if you've sent me something along those lines and I haven't written you back, know that it's just because I'm really busy and not because I don't care and I don't appreciate your kudos. I appreciate you and your pro-Razzy sentiments VERY much!

However, the OTHER 5% of e-mails and comments also fill me with happy thoughts, even though that is not their intent. This correspondence is from the haters, and it makes one thing very apparent to me. I piss off stupid people. I'm not just saying that these people are stupid because their views don't jive with mine. In real life, I put up just fine with people whose opinions I don't agree with. I also don't think everyone who disagrees with me is a moron; in fact, just the opposite. I respect people who can defend their opinions, however divergent, with a compelling argument, and I think that if everyone agreed with everything I say the world would be a tremendously boring place. That said, the vast majority of people who write me to take issue with something I've posted do NOT have a particularly compelling argument. In fact, clever haterisms (ie my all-time favorite "always the cum dumpster, never the bride") are few and far between. It cheers me immensely to know that people who get pissed about stuff I've written on my personal blog have a heaping helping of stupidity to go along with their indignation and provide me with lots of fodder for mockery. Since it's been awhile that I've posted stuff from the haters, I might as well do so to illustrate how stupid these people generally are.

1. People who bombed the "reading comprehension" questions on their SAT verbal

Yesterday, I got the following comment on the post I wrote a couple weeks back Douchebagging Kanye West's mom:
speechless said...

This is the only time that I'll ever pipe in.

This is horrible. Judging from your blog, you're going to respond somewhere along the lines of "fuck you fuck that fuck everything fuck you it's my blog, fuck fuck fuck bitch fuck", but I just had to say something.

This is somebody's dead mother that you're talking about, that you're referring to as a bitch. This is the mother of somebody who is mourning. I know you don't seem to have any respect for anyone, but empathy? Even a little bit? This is by far the most cruel thing you've said on this blog. Can't you at least stick to living people...?

I really hope Kanye doesn't read such posts from people like you. I don't know if you know what it's like to lose a parent, but it's the worst thing in the world, and I hope nobody does this to you when you lose a parent.

12/11/2007 5:26 PM
Well, speechless, before I respond, let me oblige your prediction, except with appropriate use of commas: fuck you, fuck that, fuck everything, fuck you, it's my blog, fuck, fuck, fuck, bitch, fuck. Okay, now that I've got that out of the way, let me explain more clearly how I really feel about your position. If you read this post carefully, you would notice that the first couple sentences of it went as follows: "As much as I hate Kanye West for being an insufferable, obnoxious asshole, I did feel bad when his mother died. I would be devastated if my mother passed long before her time, and I don't wish family tragedy on anyone, even an annoying egomaniacal sell-out like Kanye."

I spent the rest of the post trashing the media for its beatification of Donda West much more than I trashed Donda West herself, and if you think that's the most cruel thing I've ever written, you obviously haven't read my blog extensively. I mean, I've repeatedly wished for the Pope's death! I believe that I did acknowledge that I have some sympathy for Kanye (I can't have empathy since my parents are still alive and well and pretending my website doesn't exist), and I spent much more of my time complaining about the media coverage of Dr. West's passing than about Dr. West herself. So go back to junior high and learn how to intellectually process what you've read, speechless. And I'm terribly sorry about the loss of your parent, because my reading comprehension skills indicate that's probably where your speechlessness is coming from.

2. Crazy lunatics who think they are being extremely clever but just ramble nonsensically
From: Leif Williams (heirsign@sbcglobal.net)
To: Razzy (razzy@razzy.org)
Subject: Angie-o-gram (be still my heart)

Fuck me...clearly you've been stockpiling your meds and have gained access to an on line computer while the guard sleeps....the places the net takes us. I have no idea who you are, though (and rather obviously) your chest thumping blog quells in you some kind of wistful penchant to escape the truly anonymous misery to which you're afraid you'll forever remain ensconced. I thought you were pretty cute 'til I got the closeup pic and started wondering how sooooo much penis envy could emanated from a man who'd switched teams! Hmmm, go figure. I know, 186 pickin' on a jewannabe ain't right. OK brainiac, if you can get past the smolder of cranial singe as you dissect your Lionel Richie lyrics (or whatever you do to bone up on your cognitive skills), then maybe you'll again drop us pearls. Til then, we just fucking PINE baby! Love you always anyway-
This started out promising, as this hater is implying that I'm institutionalized and have pulled some Sarah Conner from Terminator 2-type antics with the security there to get on Blogger and start bloviating for the masses. Extra points to Leif for commenting on my desperate desire for recognition beyond being a lowly science geek; that was most perceptive. However, then Leif gets a little carried away. Implying that I'm actually a M2F tranny is one of the oldest insults in the book, and...YAWN. Being called a "jewannabe" is a new one, but I'm not sure what it means or even if it's an insult. Does Leif think I wish I was Jewish? While I do tend to get on well with members of the tribe (judging by the sheer number of them I've befriended and/or fucked cross-eyed), and while I can eat my own weight in smoked fish, matzoh balls, latkes, and brisket, I am quite comfortable in my own skin. I was born Scandinavian-Irish, and raised Catholic, and that's just fine by me. My Catholic schooling has given me the reputation of being a big skank with solid fellatio skills (a deserved reputation), and I get to brag about being descended from marauding Vikings. That said, I doubt I'd be much different if I had been born and raised Jewish, except maybe I'd be better at managing my money. KIDDING! Also, what is a "186"? The only thing I could find about that in Wikipedia is that 186 A.D. marked the martyrdom of St. Apollonius and the birth of Roman Emperor Caracalla, as well as the year the Gauls staged an anti-tax revolt. Thanks to all the early 90s West Coast rap I've listened to, I know that "187" (ie: "it's 187 on a motherfuckin' cop") means murder, but I'm at a loss for what "186" means. Maybe "186" is police code for "anti-semitic fucktard sending rambling, incoherent e-mail to random bloggers."

Anyway, if this e-mail weren't from someone obviously crazy and/or wasted during its composition, I would take the time to point out that the only lyrics I've ever dissected on this site are those penned by the King/Pied Piper/R-uh of R&B, Robert Sylvester Kelly, not Lionel Richie. While I do love Lionel Richie to the point that LL Cool Jew once gave me a "Lionel Richie Fan Club" t-shirt, I think my readers already know about how awesome "Hello" and "Dancing on the Ceiling" are. What they could benefit from are breakdowns of lyrics like "you're gonna trip, gonna trip, gonna trip, gonna trip when I show you my love jones, babe...and make the room go black," and any heat generated in that process is due to overriding lust for R. Kells rather than "cranial singe." In fact, the only "cranial singe" I experienced was a result at trying to make sense of Leif's desperate and ultimately futile attempts at seeming erudite and articulate.

3. Bitchy tools who just WILL NOT STAND for posts I've written disparaging John Mayer
From: Sam Montague (samoose78@hotmail.com)
To: Razzy (razzy@razzy.org)
Subject: response to article...read!

just responding about the article you posted about the singer/singwriter John Mayer. it is obvious that you are ill acquainted when it comes to the world of music. I am sure that the cliched, main-stream, bogan rock musicians such as Metallica and the "Original Guns 'n' Roses" can certainly act tough and play the part of a rock star, but they are nowhere near as musically talented as the great John Mayer. John mayer handles a strat in the same league as the past greats such as jimmy hendrix and stevie ray vaughan. he is a master at the guitar, and an overwhelmingly talented singer. He doesn't even have to try to play the past of a rockstar.... he is beyond that. He plays the guitar and sings because he loves doing it, and hes great at it.. he doesnt try to play the role of a rockster. with his mixture of blues and pop he is in a league of his own. and its nice of you to rip on him about his girlfriend.... although im pretty sure a little whiney bitching geek like yourself could pull much more attractive women than jessica simpson... right?? And heres a suggestion for you Razzy....... grow some fucking musical taste you insensitive wheener and fuck off.
Okay, so I may be so busy with my "main stream" metal bands of the late 80s to appreciate underground talent that NOBODY except true musical aficionados knows about like John Mayer. Maybe if I listened to more of this indie, not-at-all-mainstream (except for the Gap and Volkswagen commercials he stars in) musical genius known as John Mayer, I could appreciate that his work with a Fender Stratocaster makes Saul "Slash" Hudson look like a pussy and a hack. Then again, I take Sam's credentials as a guitar critic with a grain of salt since he can't even spell Jimi Hendrix's name properly. So, sorry, Sam, I stand by my opinion that John Mayer not only sucks, he is still the world's most unfuckable rock star. I guess we'll have to agree to disagree. And if Sam wants to question my musical credibility, I've been playing the piano since I was six (thus for TWENTY-THREE YEARS), and I probably could mop the floor with his ass in a musical theory contest. Just because John Mayer can incorporate a few used-ass blues riffs into his songs doesn't make him fucking Chopin or Brahms, and if he wants to knock my boys Frederic or Johann, we're going to have some problems. Problems like a slutty stiletto-heeled boot to Sam's nutsack kind of problems. Trust.

And I do pull way hotter bitches than Jessica Simpson. Hotter dudes, too.

4. Haters who don't need--or are unable to adequately articulate--a reason
From: James Ryder (jamesryder49@yahoo.co.uk)
To: Razzy (razzy@razzy.org)
Subject: [No Subject]

you are pathetic
Oh, okay, thanks, James. Good to know. Why, exactly? Despite several e-mails inquiring about how I achieved my pathetic state, James refused to elaborate. I came to the conclusion that this is probably because writing is not his strong suit. Just to see who was calling me pathetic, though, I went to the world's largest online moron clearinghouse: MySpace. Sure enough, James has a MySpace page which also contains a noticeable dearth of descriptive prose. I broke down in tears when I saw the angelic visage of the terse fellow calling me "pathetic." Tears of laughter!

My advice to James is to take a look in the mirror and fix his personal style before throwing stones. I mean, that haircut is hot if you're trying to look like the bastard child of Danny Bonaduce and the lead singer of the Goo Goo Dolls circa 1997, but it doesn't work if you want to call a chick with hot tits and a commanding vocabulary pathetic and have any credibility.

5. Militant lesbian feminazis
From: Wanda Jennings (wandamonium@activist.com)
To: Razzy (razzy@razzy.org)
Subject: stop it
i read your post about ro and boy you sure have a lot of nerve. straight girls like you need to stop it and stop it now. i hate when you say you are bi when you are not so you can impress guys and act like you have a leg to stand on when writing homophobic drivel like you do constantly. you are not bi or lesbian so stop pretending. its incredibly offensive to real lesbians and the queer community. i don't understand why people like you who are HETERO decide to be bisexual all of a sudden when its convenient for your stupid blog but it is degradory to all who suffer the daily struggle of being queer in a hetero world and we don't appreciate it. it negates what we go through every day when you say you are bi just to drag the name of someone who has struggled to fight for us and our rights through the mud or because you think boys will like you if you kiss some other straight girl once in a while. maybe you don't realize the damage you are doing but everyone who has ever been called a dyke or a fag would agree that all their strength and sacrifices are undone by your careless ranting about something you know nothing about. i warn you to go back to writing about clothes and your boyfriend and normal hetero shit pardon my french because you have no right to speak for us when it suits you. i won't leave you alone. i'm a strong lesbian woman and proud of it and we will not tolerate you setting us back 200 years just so you can write a stupid blog that nobody reads anyway. wanda
Oh, I'm setting the gays back 200 years by making fun of Rosie O'Donnell being a hard-headed asshole and a shitty writer? How does that work, when I'm doing it on "a stupid blog that nobody reads anyway"? Sorry, Wanda, I didn't realize how much damage I was doing to the cause. I guess I'll go back to writing about clothes and my boyfriend. It will be a relief, because when I'm going off on whatever Razzified hotness I'm going off on any given day, I'm secretly resisting the overpowering urge to write instead about "normal hetero shit." Oh wait...I'm NOT STRAIGHT, so nevermind.

You know what is worse for the gays than someone being outright homophobic? Stupid dykes like Wanda who seem to think that because they have come out of the closet and braved adversity for being gay, they are the world's ultimate authority on sexuality. Case in point: Wanda, for telling me that I'm not really bisexual. She's got her mind made up that I only kiss girls so I can write about it on my blog. Actually, I hook up with them because it's hot, and because it gets me off, and I don't consider "kissing" and "fucking" to be the same thing unless Wanda is referring to the Lil' Kim lyric where she exhorts her partner to "kiss the lips with no teeth." While I'm sure the dudes who have participated in various threesomes I've had did enjoy watching me get it on with the other chick, I've had plenty of one-on-one girl sex too and liked it just as much (if not more) than when I've had a penis-bearing audience. And I don't need to be bisexual to attract men, because my hot rack does that well enough on its own. Wanda probably thinks of herself as very open-minded, but this e-mail indicates quite clearly that fundamentalists neo-conservatives don't have the market cornered on exclusionary, rigid, unrealistic attitudes about human sexuality that do more harm than good.

What Wanda really needs is to quit reading Rosie O'Donnell's lolcat blog, trim her rat tail, and buy a decent vibrator, because the one she's got is clearly not doing the job. I can only imagine that the reason some uptight dyke took it upon herself to dictate to me what my sexual orientation is and how I should behave accordingly is because she's a frigid bitch who spends far more time being enraged than enjoying the sexuality she carries like a damn battle standard. Fuck you, Wanda, and all your hypocritical militant lezbot bullshit too. Oh, and "degradory" isn't a word.

I have some more hate mail to rag on, but it's getting late and I have a busy day at the old laboratory, so I'll have to save that for another time. In the interim, however, let's all give thanks for the Razzy Haters! Their correspondence provides me with ample mirth and joy. Thank you for sharing your poorly conceived, badly punctuated, appallingly spelled, barely intelligible, inadequately reasoned, and generally idiotic thoughts on why I suck. This truly makes my day.

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# posted by Razzy @ 7:32 AM 2 Comments Links to this post

Monday, December 10, 2007

 

Help out with my strap-on

So this weekend was a pretty typical Razzy weekend. I did some drinking, went to mass (okay, that's not really very typical, but let's pretend for one second--without laughing--that I'm a good Catholic girl), and watched football all day on Sunday. Oh yeah, and I had hot lesbian sex!

Now everyone knows I am bisexual, but I'm definitely a 90/10 boy/girl split in terms of preference. I've slept with ten dudes for every one chick, and I am a big fan of weiners. If there was a penis fan club group on Facebook, I would assuredly join. In fact, there probably is, and I plan to look into that. However, just because I like boys better doesn't mean I'm going to pass when some hot chick wants to get it on. This past year, I've reconciled myself with the fact that casual lezzie sex can be just as fun as casual breeder sex, as it's not all the boobmashing, processing, and Dar Williams-listening that I came to associate with it when I was at Smith. There are actually bitches out there who just want to fuck and have fun and not live up to the old "What does a lesbian bring on a first date? A U-Haul with all her shit in it" cliche that I previously associated with girl-girl action. In that spirit, I decided to fully invest in having hot Sapphic misadventures and went out and bought some lesbian sex gear.

Since most of my hooking up is done with boys, I hadn't really had an opportunity to use my strap-on, other than walking around my apartment wearing it and looking in a mirror and thinking that having a penis would be totally hilarious and fun. I would tell everyone to blow me, all the time. For those of you who are like some Razzy with your masturbation, here I am striking one of the"suck my fake dick, bitch" poses I amuse myself with:

Anyway, this weekend I was getting hot and heavy with this girl and decided to put my strap-on to better use than just running around being immature about it. So I cinched up my harness and was prepared to have this bitch love my doggystyle. However, I quickly realized that this looks a lot easier in porn movies than it is in real life. I realized that, although this girl is taller than me, my thighs were a lot longer than hers. Thus when I was on my knees behind her, my fake dick was way above her vagina. It was a comedy of errors trying to get us both in a position where I could actually fuck her and get some kind of rhythm going. Having always been on the receiving end of doggystyle sex, I didn't realize what a hassle it is for the person doing the penetrating. In the end I got the job done, but I couldn't help be horrified at how much practice I need to become truly proficient at hitting that shit from the back with a strap-on.

On the numerous occasions when I have been the recipient of sex in this position, I have never had a dude indicate that he was having problems with angles but this must be a problem guys have to contend with. I tend to like tall guys, so obviously their thighs must be much longer than mine and they must have to do some rearranging to achieve the right angle. However, I can't think of one who had much trouble making it work. So, I need some help from all you wise perverts out there. How do guys solve this problem? Is the issue that my strap-on, although somewhat flexible, has less of a range of motion than a real cock? Or is there some trick that guys know to overcome this? Or am I woefully ignorant to the point where I probably don't even deserve to wield a fake schlong?

So, dudes and advanced lesbians, please leave me some comments and help a skank out. It's embarrassing for an accomplished slut like myself to have problems achieving sexual positions, so I need to correct this ASAP before I try to bang another broad and look like a clumsy amateur. I am yours to instruct, so comment away.

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# posted by Razzy @ 9:56 AM 12 Comments Links to this post

Thursday, December 06, 2007

 

Daily Dude I Want to Hit: Belladonna


Name: Belladonna

Real name: Michelle Anne Sinclair

DOB: May 21, 1981

Occupation: porn star, specializing in anal, fetish, and rough lesbian genres

Hometown: Salt Lake City, Utah (another shining example of a virtuous Mormon lady)

Current residence: somewhere in Porn Valley, California

Why I Want to Hit that Hotness: Belladonna is a dirty, filthy, nasty, disgusting girl, to the point where, depending on the movie, up to 90% of what she does makes me cringe. However, like a train wreck, I can't stop watching some of Belladonna's extremely perverted antics. For Belladonna, double anal is just another day at the office, and while that sort of thing doesn't really arouse me, I'm fascinated by Bella's ability to make it seem like the most fun anyone could ever possibly have. I think that sticking one regular-sized dick up my ass is challenging enough as far as my comfort level is concerned, so I can only imagine sticking two porn star-sized cocks in there along with a lime or a baseball (not joking about that) is damned excruciating. OUCH.

Belladonna always pushes the envelope. She has sex with men, women, and trannies, and she usually does nasty fucking things to all of them. I saw one clip in which she was not only eight months pregnant, she was having a lesbian/tranny orgy and proceeded to give one of her companions a BREAST MILK ENEMA prior to sticking a Louisville slugger up her ass. I watch a lot of porn, but even for a dirty, perverted girl like me I was like, "Oh. My. GOD. How did I manage to pull this off the internets?" It's the kind of thing that doesn't really turn you on, but that you watch with a mix of revulsion, shock, and a sense of horrified curiosity. Granted, I'm sure that there are people out there who are really into pregnancy fetish-themed anal group sex, but I imagine most people, even those well-versed in porn, watch that and say, "What the hell...?" Again, for Belladonna, it's just another day at the office.

In addition to the fact that her sheer depravity is impressive even for a famous porn star, I like the fact that Bella doesn't really look like a typical porn star. She has a huge diastema (gap between her front teeth, and trust that dick DOES fit...I saw her deep throat all eleven inches of Lexington Steele's penis, and just thinking about attempting that makes me want to start retching) and is regularly shaving her head for lesbian scenes (extra style points to Bella for catering to the lady-loving ladies in the audience via her coiffure). Her breasts are natural C cups, and she has tattoos all over, including a giant sacred heart on her left tit. In spite of not being covered with fake blonde hair and silicone, Bella manages to fuck with more aggression and panache than ten Jenna Jamesons put together. Furthermore, even though Bella isn't conventionally good looking, she is drop dead gorgeous when put next to Jenna "We Wants the Precious" Jameson. She fucks with more vigor and enthusiasm, has more of a sense of humor (currently, the poll on her NSFW website is "Should Rubbing Slugs be the title of my next girl-girl series?" and there's a picture of jizz dripping off her nose to the caption "I GOT SLIMED!"), and has more range than 90% of the bitches in porn. I don't get off to Bella the way I respond to Briana Banks, but as far as the level of respect I accord to a porn star, Bella is light years ahead. She is smart, unafraid, and unapologetic, and is as much of a feminist icon as a woman starring in movies called Belladonna's Dark Meat, Butthole Whores 2, My Hot Wife is Fucking Blackzilla 11, Manhandled, Cock Happy, Fetish Fanatic, and Belladonna's Oddjobs (a series about sex with feet, fruits and vegetables, and other various household objects) can possibly be. While uptight feminazis at Smith College might say that porn like this is degrading, every woman who has enjoyed the greater sexual freedom that the feminist movement has afforded them can thank Belladonna for blazing a trail of unabashedly weird yet strangely empowering sexual deviance. Thanks to Bella, it's okay for women to be perverts too, and I mean that in the most positive way possible. I think she has done a great service for women's liberation.

I was thus fairly upset about a month or two ago when Bella announced her semi-retirement from the industry. This was because she developed a gigantic herpes lesion on her ass, presumably was unable to perform (since her ass is in approximately 95% of the footage she shoots), and was worried about passing her simplex around to her co-stars, even though virtually all of them have the herp. Luckily, it turned out a different member of the herpesviridae; just a spot of shingles as opposed to the worst herpes simplex outbreak of all time, and now she seems to have reconsidered her desire to stop getting DPed for the camera (which is inadvisable, since her shingles outbreak actually suggests she has varicella-zoster virus as well as herpes simplex, and I don't really have a "more the merrier" philosophy when it comes to herpesvirus infections). Granted, I still won't be buying Belladonna's latest Fetish Fanatic movie because I don't really get off by making a vodka gimlet in some other bitches' vadge while I shove a kielbasa up her ass. Nor will I ever hit her hotness since I'm not planning on starring in any violent anal lesbian porn films anytime soon and since I avoid effing people with herpes, but I will continue to read her MySpace blog and cheer her on. Keep on shocking the world's sensibilities, girl! And here's hoping you start a dynasty of winning the FAME "Dirtiest Girl in Porn" award, because you are!

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# posted by Razzy @ 8:20 AM 0 Comments Links to this post

Monday, December 03, 2007

 

Liar, liar, whore's crotch on fire!

So for some reason, I watch that "Shot at Love with Tila Tequila" trash. In case you are not familiar with what the kids these days are jamming to on MTV, it's a show in which Tila Tequila searches for romance among a bevy of suitors. Since Tila's main claim to fame is being the most popular skank on the social e-cesspool known as MySpace and she is not nearly as entertaining to watch as Tiffany "New York" Pollard, the show's twist is that Tila is bisexual and is choosing from a pool of reality fame whores representing both genders. However, it seems there is more afoot on the set of "A Shot at Love" than the MTV producers would have us believe. In another example reminding everyone why the New York Post is the greatest publication in the history of print journalism (fuck off, snobby Times readers!), Richard Johnson has this shocking expose on Page Six:
SELF-proclaimed bisexual MTV skank Tila Tequila may actually be straight as an arrow. The gay-for-pay bikini babe stars in a "A Shot at Love With Tila Tequila," about her search for the perfect mate - male or female. But it's "all a sham," says a source close to the show. "Tila has and has had a boyfriend for over a year, and she's not really bi. She's made out with some girls in her past, as all girls have, but she is not bi at all." Our insider claims that MTV works hard to pretend she's single and available because she refuses to break up with her boyfriend, "who's like five years older than her. This is a massive scam . . . That's why they are not continuing with the show [for a second season], because she won't dump him." Tequila has also been acting like "a diva" and become a "nightmare to work with," said the source. "She arrives late and doesn't talk to any of the contestants between takes. She complains she has too much going on." A rep for Tequila said, "I'll confirm that she's bisexual and she's a delight to work with."
SHA RIGHT, Tila Tequila's rep! Nobody is surprised to find out that she's a fake bisexual and a bitch. I would frankly be surprised to hear that Tila, a woman primarily famous for her trucker hat-bikini combos, her claims that she porked the indigent nail-polished despicable hipster mess who answers to Jared Leto, and her ability to parlay ZERO talent apart from aptitude at manipulating online social networks and the fact that she looks like she just stepped out of a hentai anime porn into some sort of Z-list fame, ISN'T a big faker and a mean-spirited cunt with a severe case of self-aggrandization.


I've been suspicious of Tila's slut credentials from day one of this show. For starters, all the contestants on this show sleep on one massive bed. If I had a bed populated with male model bodybuilder wannabes and lesbian strippers, priority numero uno would be effing each and every last one of them. So far, Tila's played coy, doing little more than some light making out with some of them. Nobody is watching this shit to see Tila process with these assholes: we want to see her act like the whore she's marketed herself as! Get with the orgy-having, already, because memo to Tila Tequila: you are not bisexual until you lick some snatch. Making out with girls and boobmashing does not count., because as the Post so astutely points out, you can get any bitch to do that if you feed her enough sea breezes. I cannot count the number of straight drunk girls I've made out with, and 99% of them did not wind up sitting on my face. Apparently at the "Welcome to Grad School, First-Years" party this year which I hosted as co-president of the grad school student body, instead of kissing babies I worked it politically by kissing 5 or 6 different girls who had been enjoying the open bar. People are still talking about the hot makeout sesh I publicly engaged in with this second-year who went to Mount Holyoke (Seven Sisters represent!). However, I didn't score any pussy that night, because all those girls ARE STRAIGHT! Making out with me doesn't make them bi.

I have a suggestion for MTV if they want to continue with the "Shot at Love" franchise since that duplicitous-ass bitch Tila won't dump her secret real-life boyfriend: PICK ME! Not only am I smarter and more witty than Tila, but I'll also show my boobs, get drunk on the regular, and give every last contestant a test drive in that giant bed. And I'm also cooperative, easy to work with, and actually bisexual, so there will be plenty of sincere hot girl-on-girl going on. I'll show up ready to craft some exquisite reality with a suitcase full of sex toys and a readiness to bring the drama by getting it on with everyone in sight. It's true that I only only have 600-something MySpace friends as opposed to Tila's two million, but if it's bisexual bachelorettes who know how to keep things lively you're looking for, I'm your girl, MTV!

Besides, MTV is going to need to make it up to their "Shot at Love" viewers who have devoted themselves to the adoration of Dani, the butch lesbian firefighter who is one of Tila's final three candidates. Specifically, LL Cool Jew and El Cyd, founding members of the Cult of Dani, will go ballistic when Tila breaks Dani's sensitive lesbian heart by noting that she's actually looking for a shot at cultural relevance as opposed to love, and will not be riding off into the sunset beside her in Dani's Subaru Outback. "A Shot at Casual Sex with Thirty-Two Unemployed Foodservice Employees and/or Exotic Dancers Of Both Genders with Razzy" is how MTV can make things right.

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# posted by Razzy @ 9:45 AM 1 Comments Links to this post
 

Daily Douchebag: My alarm clock


Name: General Electric model 7-4601A

DOB: 1996

Occupation: jarring me from pleasant dreams about hot lezzie sex

Hometown: Taiwan or China

Current residence: my bedside table

Douchebaggery: I have to give my alarm clock its due for being a trooper. I've had this bitch since college and it keeps on doggedly telling me the time. I am so familiar with its layout that I can practically reset the time while half-asleep with my face buried in a pillow. This clock is one of my treasured possessions, and I will probably use it until it dies of old age.

That said, I hate my alarm clock. I may be able to find the snooze button with my eyes closed on it, but that doesn't mean I like waking up in the morning. I have an elaborate alarm routine that I've honed and perfected throughout the years. First, I set the clock ahead without looking, so the clock is fast, but I'm not sure exactly HOW fast. It could be 15 minutes fast, it could be two hours fast, but I don't know, and that makes me get up. Then, I set the alarm to go off 54 minutes before I actually intend to get up, which allows me to hit snooze six times and thus gradually ease myself out of bed. This method is usually effective for getting me out of bed, although it's not a hit with the fellas I have over on school nights. My ex-boyfriend Benzo used to rant and rave about my snooze button addiction almost as much as he would about the son-of-a-bitch-bastard Yankees, because apparently hearing the alarm's nerve-grating "REE-REE-REE-REE" noise six times before waking up to have sex and watch reruns of last night's Sportscenter wasn't his idea of a pleasant way to wake up. It's not my idea of pleasant either, but it works, and sometimes you have to sacrifice comfort for efficacy.

However, sometimes the earlier alarm sounding time results in very undesirable effects, such as this morning. I was having a VERY vivid dream about having sex with this hot blonde girl. I don't know who this girl was or how she found her way into my subconscious, but she looked like a cross between Scarlett Johansson, Heidi Klum, and Briana Banks circa 2001. I had seen an ad for (the enraging and despicable monstrosity known as) The Nanny Diaries DVD before going to bed, and I watch a lot of both "Project Runway" and porn, so maybe that's how I imagined up this broad. Anyway, she was super hot and had huge, perfect breasts, and she was fucking the hell out of me with a strap on, and then...my ALARM went off. Not only was I distinctly disgruntled to realize that Scarlediana Johanssoklubanks had been replaced in my bed by a rank, snoring Pug, but I was pissed that if I hadn't been following my morning routine, I could have enjoyed this dream for another 54 minutes. Thanks a lot, alarm clock, for boxblocking me in a damn dream. Now I've got a killer case of the Mondays.

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# posted by Razzy @ 9:29 AM 2 Comments Links to this post

Monday, November 26, 2007

 

Razzy: Homemaker of the Year

I'm sure you're all wondering how my Thanksgiving went, because you were likely spending the holiday weekend agonizing about my lack of bloggery, as you all undoubtedly spend approximately 99.999999999% of your time thinking Razzy-filled thoughts. I know. But sorry, dudes, even beloved internet icons ("beloved internet icon"=loser with nothing better to do than live vicariously through her own blog) like myself need to take a couple days off from the grueling useless bullshit business sometimes. I actually had a lot of work. My buddy G-Cat and my newest labmate SisterChristian and I decided to host all the grad students who were away from their families for Thanksgiving. G-Cat provided his apartment, SisterChristian provided assistance, and I provided my vast culinary expertise. It was no small feat, as we ended up feeding around 20 people. I made two turkeys in two ovens in two different apartments, stuffing, five quarts of gravy, mashed potatoes, baked macaroni and cheese, three pies, yams, guacamole, and a turkey sculpture out of cheese logs.

Okay, I had some help with everything (except the work of art that is that turkey cheese sculpture, which I lovingly handcrafted myself), but I was basically the head chef and in charge of everything. I pulled it off, garnering rave reviews for my culinary skills.

"Razzy, I didn't think you were this domestic," said one of the orphan grad students attending our soiree.

"As far as wife skills go, I can fuck and I can cook, but I'm shit at cleaning," I explained.

"Two out of three ain't bad," he said (failing to credit Meat Loaf for the quote). I agree, and I think cleaning is the one thing you can get away with sucking at. You can always hire a maid, but men definitely like it better if you can bang the daylights out of them and then feed them a delicious meal. Too bad I'm not in the market for a MRS degree, because I'd be one hell of a capable wifey.

The one area, however, where my homemaking skills fall short is the fact that I do all this cooking looking like a hot trashtastic dyke, with my practical knotted hair, my wife-beater, and my toned upper arms. The fact that before G-Cat could come carve the turkey like the man of the house should, I decided to teach J-Sexy and SisterChristian how to do lesbian sex to it doesn't exactly paint me as a virtuous keeper of home and hearth:

Looks like I just shot to hell my chances of being declared the heir apparent to June Cleaver. Somehow I suspect the people who give out awards based on homemaking skills might frown on teaching bitches how to find a roasted piece of poultry's G-spot. Oh well. At least the turkey tasted good. Better than some snatches I've licked, that's for sure (just kidding, special girlfriends). Plenty to be thankful for anyway!

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# posted by Razzy @ 9:09 AM 2 Comments Links to this post

Friday, November 09, 2007

 

Daily Dude I Want to Hit: Dani from “A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila”


Real Name: Dani Campbell

DOB: 1977 (pretty old for a dating reality show)

Occupation: Firefighter, paramedic, hot lesbian, dumb slut suitor

Hometown: ?

Current residence: Fort Lauderdale, FL (No. 1 U.S. gay vacation spot!)

Why I Want to Hit That Hotness: She may have “Two-A-Days” hair, but Dani is my type of lesbian. I know that’s pretty boring to most people who would hope that pretty girly girls like kissing others of their own kind, but me? Not so much. Still, even Razzy, lover of lipstick lezzies, sees it in Dani:
LL Cool Jew: she is soooooooooooooookewt
LL Cool Jew: i have a totz krush on her
Razzy: she is totally your type of dyke
Razzy: butch but not tranny
LL Cool Jew: zackly
LL Cool Jew: with a really pretty face
LL Cool Jew: and narrow hips
LL Cool Jew: if she were around me
LL Cool Jew: i would act sooooo dum
Razzy: LOL
LL Cool Jew: i would be like HA HA HA AHHA HAA giggle HAHA
LL Cool Jew: i luv u
Razzy: oh, dani, tell me more about life at the firehouse!
LL Cool Jew: dani, wow, can you guys really cook??
LL Cool Jew: can i come cook for you?
LL Cool Jew: can i help you into your suit?
LL Cool Jew: hold your hose????
Razzy: like, can i make you some tuna tacos?
LL Cool Jew: ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww
Razzy: oh come on
LL Cool Jew: ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww
Razzy: or maybe your specialty
LL Cool Jew: uh oh....
Razzy: poached bearded clams?
LL Cool Jew: EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
Razzy: hair pie for dessert!
Razzy: sorry
Razzy: i'm totally a 9-year-old boy inside
LL Cool Jew: it's ok
LL Cool Jew: you are qewt
LL Cool Jew: if dani met me - shit
LL Cool Jew: tila tequila would be HISTORY
Razzy: no shit!
Razzy: dude, you'd steal all tila tequila's suitors
Razzy: tila tequila is so busted
LL Cool Jew: i mean, me and tila tequila, side by side in red bikinis - NO COMPETITION.
LL Cool Jew: :) 8 I>
Razzy: well, for one thing, your head isn't freakishly large and you don't look like you just stepped out of a Pokemon cartoon
Razzy: for another, your breasts are real
LL Cool Jew: see the bikini
LL Cool Jew: up there
Razzy: i love it
Razzy: totz qewt
Razzy: yeah, back to tila tequila
Razzy: she is so annoying
Razzy: that show is unreal
LL Cool Jew: yeah there's boutz to be a big ole girlfight
LL Cool Jew: btw vanessa and brandi
LL Cool Jew: yawn
LL Cool Jew: did you see tila and dani makin out in the tent
LL Cool Jew: dani was spitting her lesbian feelings game
LL Cool Jew: HOTT
Razzy: i KNOW
Razzy: dani can play the feelings game like a pro
Razzy: you know she used it to score some quality boobmashing partners back in her smith days (RAZZY EDIT: Dani did not go to Smith, but we like to think she did).
Razzy: to the tune of a sarah maclachlan cd
LL Cool Jew: oh yeah
LL Cool Jew: but i bet she's a BDOC (BDOC=big dyke on campus)
LL Cool Jew: she's probz just fronting
Razzy: for sure
LL Cool Jew: she's probz humping legs with the other girls on the sly
LL Cool Jew: talking love
LL Cool Jew: screwin models
LL Cool Jew: shawty snappin!
Razzy: i said, godDAMN shawty snappin!
LL Cool Jew: OH YEAH
LL Cool Jew: i love those free swingin lesbians
LL Cool Jew: the hottness!
Razzy: you know dani fingerbanged her fair share of rugby bunnies back in her purple unicorn days ("purple unicorn"=Smith's school mascot until the early 70s when they changed it Pioneers...seriously)
LL Cool Jew: with their fryes
LL Cool Jew: and their caribeaners
LL Cool Jew: and their subarus
LL Cool Jew: LOVE IT
Razzy: totally
Razzy: it's like your dream girl
LL Cool Jew: she totz is
LL Cool Jew: and a firefighter too
LL Cool Jew: SWOOOOOOOOOOON
So yeah, here’s to Dani from Tila Tequila – getting her earnest hot lesbian swerve on.

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# posted by LL Cool Jew @ 7:27 AM 1 Comments Links to this post

Monday, November 05, 2007

 

I TOLD you Kristeen Young sucked!

When I went to the Morrissey concert the week before last, my crew lingered at the German restaurant where we were indulging in pre-Morrissey sausages, schnitzel, and beer to ensure we missed the lame-ass opening act. Unfortunately, we still managed to catch the last few songs of the opening act, some chick named Kristeen Young. When we walked in, MIss Corbutt turned to me and goes, "Did we just walk into Olympia, Washington circa 1992?" I replied, "Got a pen? Because I need to write 'RIOT GRRL' on my knuckles." Seriously, this dumb slag might as well have asked 15-year-old feminazi poetry writing Razzy to decorate her keyboard for her: