Bloody Vacation
This is simply a poll, as I’m interested in what the ladies who read my blog have to say about the following issue:
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Smiles is Possessed By Sex Demons
Smiles and I have known eachother for a few years now, most recently taking a 12-month break from one another due to her latest ex-”boyfriend.” Now that she’s gotten rid of him, we’ve temporarily resumed our “situation.” I took her out to an overly expensive dinner for her birthday at They Say (which ended up costing way too much money because they wouldn’t accept my coupon from restaurant.com), and we weren’t able to…finish the date correctly because she was bleeding to death. Well, she invited me over to her cousins house to makeup for that night and by the time I left, I’d experienced the not so smiley side of Smiles…
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Street Rodent Secrets: How To Know If She’s A Hoodrat
I’ve done it before and I’m back to do it again. This time around, I had to take time to think about what I was accusing so many women of being; a hoodrat. A woman isn’t a hoodrat simply because she wears flower sandals; she may actually like them. A woman isn’t a hoodrat simply because she wears a scarf on her head; she may just not have the money to have her hair done. As I told a hoodrat several weeks ago, “You’re right, no one thing makes you a hoodrat, but you have several astronomically ghetto attributes that combined, make you an All-Star level street rodent. ” Not only will I list 10 Ways to know if a woman is a hoodrat, but I’ll detail why. Remember…2 of more…
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Sexy Chocolate Pt. 2 – Follow Me
Her agonistic attitude is somehow responsible for my sexual arousal. She’s witty and facetious, attractive, and almost flawlessly thick. However, everything becomes a matter of dispute when we converse, which becomes rather annoying when I’m usually right to begin with. Perhaps she has an evil plan to annoy me as much as possible so that my strokes are just a tad bit more aggressive when I penetrate her box. I mean, the more she talks shit, the more I want to fuck her.
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They Don’t Have Gas, But You Don’t Have A Car
I am not a yes man, I can’t be. I think there is a strand in my dna that forces me to question anything that I hear and/or read, no matter what the source is. I genuinely adore women with very high self-esteem, however, I cannot stomach people who put others down to put themselves up, especially when they are as wrong as the sugar dude on Housewives of Atlanta in the first place. This particular young lady happens to be a friend of a another young lady that I tried to have sex with months ago (and I failed), which resulted in me casually adding her and a dozen other women that day under the suggested friends link. During my daily run down through the statuses on my facebook wall, I came across the following (WARNING: You might have to speak hoodrat to read it correctly)…
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Where Do I Meet These Women?
Welcome to the latest installment of, “Where the f#ck do I meet these b#tches?”
This past week, I think I had 6 dummy missions and a bunch of wasted time, with the exceptions of Mello Yello and Bubbles of course.
Last night, a girl called me and asked me to “please tell [her] babies daddy that we’re not fucking.” I hung up on her. She called back, I told her I don’t get involved in that bullshit and promptly deleted her out of the database. I later regretted the move, thinking I should got on the phone with him and informed them that I probably fucked his girl more than he did. That’s childish though, I could hear Freckles saying “petty” in my mind.
I was taking a young chick back home, in which case Mello Yello reminded me, “you’re too old to be messing with women without cars,” she’s right. Anyway, I got pulled over in Inkster after my little trip for supposedly having an abandoned label on my car (WTF is that?) but thankfully the nice white guy didn’t write me a ticket for the other 5 things he could have taken me to jail for.
A girl I used to know a few years back was just on the news for trying to rob a hair salon.
Sexy Chocolate called me and asked me to take her to the movies. Then she said, “it’s only ten dollars.” If it’s only ten dollars, then you pay. Some women are just not meant to do anything with but fuck.
One of my ex’s friends finally decided to have sex with me, only to change her mind after she talked to my ex about it. Now why would you go and talk to her about it IDIOT??!!
Some chick from the east side let me finger her and I think my finger caught something. I let it soak in bleach for a few minutes until my finger started burning.
Some very smart young lady on facebook decided to go back and forth with me over a status she wrote trying to hoe people that say they don’t have any gas…but she doesn’t even have a car. Go figure. I think I’ll post that argument sometime this week.
I’m getting very tired of women sending me naked pictures in dirty bathrooms. I don’t even reply anymore, I just delete the pics and start to text someone else.
I found out that this stud reportedly threatened me because I expressed interest in fucking her girl…who is already fucking other girls…and dudes for that matter. If you think my life is a blog, you should talk to this woman.
Why do women that you’ve had casual sex with atleast a dozen times, suddenly feel that it’s a great time to say, “I’m more than just a sex buddy.” Ummm, no you’re not.
#thatisall.
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From Skype To My Delight
If there was ever an evening that I lived up to the label of being a somewhat libidinous man, this was it. Horny is inadequate, salacious is proper. I mean, I needed some good ass, make a nigga scream PINEAPPLES pussy. Word to Kevin Hart. For the lack of coming up with a creative way of saying how strong my erection was, I’ll say…my dick was hard as fuck and feeling photogenic. I pulled it out, snapped a pic, and sent it to HER. Her response…”Funny thing is.. I was just in the car thinking about that.” GREEN LIGHT.
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