Blogorrhea On Location In Hawaii

So I’m at home visiting Hawaii and find it difficult to blog when I have a choice between beach or Macbook.  But I thought what better time to share with some of you the wonderful characteristics about my hometown that have shaped my delusional sense of reality.  If you’ve ever visited the Big Island of Hawaii before, you will understand this post.  If you have only visited Waikiki for a lameass luau or have never been here at all, you may find the following a bit of a let down, like grabbing onto a pair of fake boobs for the first time.

Lego’s are considered appropriate building materials

There is a classic song from the 50’s called “Little Grass Shack” and the lyrics describe a desire to go back to the simply life of Hawaii in a little town called Kealakekua.  If there was a state structure just as there is a state flower, it would be a shack.  In Hawaii, shacks are an acceptable form of housing and, unlike the mainland, evoke no judgment or assumption of your social or financial status.

This is an office to check in to a rafting tour and kayak rental. Totally sturdy by Haiti standards.

In Hawaii, zip ties are substituted for rebar and tarps are equally sufficient roofing and drywall material.  It’s appropriate, really.  Hurricanes rarely visit the islands (just like the city of New Orleans) and the sun and saltwater are harsh on buildings, accelerating wear and tear.  So why invest in real building materials when you might have to renovate them in 100 years?

On the Big Island, this very well might be a rental.

This is also a highly active volcanic region which produces numerous earthquakes monthly.  It seems that investing in expensive construction on an island with 2 active and 1 dormant volcano is just pointless.  I mean, Haiti is poor now but imagine if they had invested millions in construction to follow strict building codes and safety regulations.  Thousands of people would be alive today and they would have to reinvest all that lost money!

This is the Hualalai Four Seasons in my hometown, a rich people only hotel and homeowner resort. It's built on a 100-year-old lava flow on the slope of a volcano in a landscape devoid of freshwater or soil. Genius.

Everyone wears bikinis

Now bikinis are wonderful and having a brown ass is something that I treasure.  But there is an unspoken boundary which should not be crossed when it comes to bathing suit attire.  My guideline, When you look like you ate Alice in Wonderland’s “Eat Me” cake, it’s time to upgrade.  

There is nothing wrong with this person's body, only their ability to size clothing.

Now clearly, this woman needs an upgrade.  I bet her 8-year-old sister is wondering where her bikini went.

When people come to Hawaii they believe they will see this…

I took this picture of my ass yesterday, hope you like it.

But this is the false portrayal of the american woman in a bikini.  We all wish our asses looked like this but I stopped lying to myself years ago.

Stewart Smalley could talk himself into a good mood, but never a hot bikini body. It's the ultimate lie.

Everyone is welcome to wear whatever they want.  But stop the delusions.  You’re Hawaiian vacation will not be full of beautiful, smiling Hawaiian women bringing you coconut cocktails in a thong for many reasons.

1) White man killed off most of the Native Hawaiians.

2) The remaining native Hawaiian are not stoked to bring you, another cock-a-sion, a f*cking drink.  Smile may not be included.

3) Most locals here in thongs are either under 21 or don’t work because they’re too beautiful to be bothered with it.

Your vacation is most likely going to consist of other tourons (remember that word? moronic tourist) just as lost and needy as you, looking like this…

All it takes is an eye patch and some black shoe string.

Caucvasions are celebrated

The Big Island happens to also be the first placed white man landed in Hawaii in 1779.  I refer to this as the caucvasion:  a white man invasion, a takeover, and ultimate mere extinction of a native people; also known as a very dickish move.

Captain Cook committed his caucvasion in 1779 landing in Kealakekua Bay twice a few weeks apart.  First time around he was welcomed, second time around he was murdered.  The caucvasion here did what it does everywhere across the world.  It inevitably deteriorates an existing native culture and leaves a population of controlled survivors after the wars and disease.  It’s a beautiful process that America has been trying to perfect in the Middle East, but I think the Dutch and English may have been a bit better at it.

You can go to this historical place by boat and see the monument placed in Captain Cook’s honor.  It’s an amazing feat, discovering a bunch of people living on an island together.

Kealakekua Bay Captain Cook monument.

If you go to this bay by boat or kayak you can still see the present day re-enactment of the caucvasion.  They use kayaks instead of ships and look more like an invasion of drunk donkeys than trained soldiers and seamen.

Tourons on kayaks.

This is actually a great place to drag your kayak and walk considering it’s a marine life conservation district and national historical monument.  It’s no wonder “touron” was one of my favorite new words.

Regardless of all this sarcasm, it is a beautiful place to live and visit.

I'm not telling you where I took this because I don't want you to go here:)

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Making Assholes, One Photo At A Time

This week in France fashion retailer La Redoute published a children’s clothing ad which included, or featured depending on your taste, a full male frontal in the background.  Nothing says “Don’t buy our clothes” like a wet, uncircumcised penis basking in the sun behind four innocent, skipping children.  What really brings together this scene is the reassuring word “READY” printed across the T-shirt on the little girl on the right.  Aren’t we all ready for wet penises coming at us from behind?  It’s great that the French children are learning so early.

Photo featured from La Redoute, borrowed from BBC.

I’m a bit jealous this Frenchman’s nudity caught so much attention.  My first French full frontal didn’t even catch a teenage boy glance at my twenty year old tits.  That day the good people of France disappointed me.

I'm so confused!. Clearly, the French love boobs so much that they paint them on men and women!

Regressing after digressing.  The pseudo-pedophilic ad gets even more awesome upon reading further, “The error was compounded by the fact that La Redoute provided a magnifying glass so that people could examine the beachwear close-up”.   Good God!  Were there no proofreaders before publishing this photo?  Maybe the same six-year-old children who are in this photo also took the photo, published the photo and developed the ad.  As I have mentioned in the past, I am merely a messenger, this shit writes itself.

For all the pervs in the back that can't see very well.

The only disappointing piece in this photo (well, besides the obvious) is that the naked man is not lecherously watching the children.  What a Catholic mess that would be.  I stand corrected, that photo would be considered straight-up Catholic erotica!  What are in all those gigantic texts anyways?……I’m guessing a 1,500-year-old collection of pornography.

Seeing this news story proves that television is unnecessary to make people look like assholes.  Although, it is doing a fantastic job of it.

Three assholes

An asshole

And an asshole like a 50-year-old gay, male porn star named Poop Shoot

Our lesson here is that if you have a penis, you should enter a photo from the background with a big share at least once in your lifetime.  It’s the surefire way to make complete strangers look like assholes in merely seconds.  I apologize that all the next round of photos involve men looking like jackasses, but it was impossible to find women waving their vaginas in the background.  I know, I’m shocked too!  Note to self, wave vagina more.

Exhibit A

In life, you're always about 10 feet away from being pissed on.

Exhibit B

Proof that Speedos are just as ridiculous at wet, uncircumcised penises.

Exhibit C

Double note to self...vagina waving is hilarious, must start immediately!

Exhibit D

Or just drop your pants, hide you penis and make your head look like a giant dick.

Exhibit E

It's been calculated. Three yuppy penises can be as detrimental to a photo as one flaccid, herpes penis can be to your vag...or butt, it's all preference.

For Exhibit F, I have selected my own personal photobomb.  Pardon the covered faces, but I have promised all friends that I would never drag them into the blogoshpere….and I’m not ready to introduce my readers to my alter ego in college, “Fat, drunk girl that nobody wants to go home with”.  I think the white faces only add to the douchebagery emanating from this photo, don’t you?

Wet armpits and wet penises can both be equally damaging to photos.

At your next social gathering, try this on for size.  Vagina waving and penis flogging are undeniably the new candid camera.  Both will evoke a sense of disgust and embarrassment from the people in the foreground who go home with the disappointing photograph.  In the end, all that really matters is that you ruined someone’s photo with your junk.  And that is priceless.

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Thanks, Neighborhood Homeless Guy

When you don’t think things could get any worse, they get better.  An ounce of positivity can now leak from my fingertips as I am now employed.   I was warned of my lay off 17 months ago and have been looking for work for 14 months.  It only took a few hundred applications, 18 interviews,  one 3,000 mile relocation, 4 blow jobs, 1 murder and 2 unmentionables to get back on the path to almost success!  So much of my humor derived from my forced poverty, frustration, rejection and desire to physically harm my previous employer.  But I can assure you, there will be plenty of new material from a government job, a 2-hour commute and coworkers….and I do still want to harm my previous employer.

I also had to buy a car for the commute but I’m not quite sure how to feel about such an obligatory purchase.  I can assume the body convulsions and vomiting that commenced upon signing the paperwork is a sign that I was not ready to buy a new car.  By the way, I honest to s**t did puke in my mouth in front of the salesman when signing.  I am known for digestive retaliation: explosive gut before soccer games, raging flatulence on dates, and shaking and vomiting onset by anxiety.

I would like to thank a few people who helped me get through the last 14 months.  This triumphant feat was not possible without their inspiration and support.

To my mother,

I would like to thank my mother for reminding me why I needed to remain sober, frugal and calm during this crisis.  Her drunkassness provided me with the incentive I needed to not drink as it would amplify the feeling that I was a loser.  I cannot think of anything more powerful to keep you from spending money and falling into alcoholism as a drunk, old, washed-up addict slurring on the other line talking about getting 86’ed from Applebees.  Thanks, Egg Donor.

To my landlord,

I appreciate her support in my time of frustration.  If I ever thought I might not be able to make rent, I was not alone.  There was always a lucky chance that my landlady would see me out and about during the day and feel compelled, on a Wednesday at 2 pm, to ask me if I was working yet.  I don’t know if it was the house shoes, quitters (those are sweatpants to those of you in denial), bandana or hand-washing laundry in the basement that led her on.  But she’s a keen one.  Thanks, Naggy Naggerson

To the neighborhood homeless guy,

When I thought it couldn’t get any worse I would see him and his cardboard sign and know that it could.  His dirty face, his monkey odor and the methadone induced drooling was always the inspiration I needed to go back to my apartment and apply to more jobs.  I appreciate that he still asked me for change.  Thinking that I had any money to give made me feel like I still looked valuable and employable.    I don’t know how he got there, but my sober, college loan-owing ass was sure as hell not going down like that.

To the US tax payer,

Your tax dollars are going are sometimes well spent.  They help people like me keep landlady and neighborhood homeless guy at bay.  Now it’s time to sit back, relax and revel in your forced investment.  The world is now one more employee richer and an American consumer has been reborn.  It’s too bad that I plan to spend all my excess money this year on precious metals, massages, and i-Gagdets.  And I’m sorry American car companies, I bought a Prius!  Pronounced pry-us to you fuel inefficient folk.

Happy New Year, Blogdom!

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What Happens To Your Sex Toys When You Die?

Whatever you do, DO NOT open an unmarked, pink box!

Let’s say you have a shoebox of whorish goods safely hidden in the back of your closet…..and then you die.   When it’s time to box up your life someone will find it and word will spread that yours truly, once an admirable citizen, is now remembered as desperately perverted.

Please don't do this to your father.

What if your new apartment didn’t permit privacy from roommates and in fact provided uncanny acoustics which amplified small vibrations?  Or consider what you would do if you had to move and pack all your personal belongings into plane luggage and carry-ons.  I don’t think TSA employees leave notes for sexual deviant nobodies upon finding a shoebox full of dirty Johnsons.  When I faced the latter of these two situations, I decided to bury my Box O’ Boyfriends deep in the darkness and putridity of an unmarked dumpster.  Poor little guys, they’re always covered in goo.

But what happens to rubbish like that?  Where I lived most people took their own rubbish to the dump, and it was transferred a number of times before being bulldozed into the landfill.  I know someone sees the rubbish, crap, a number of people see it!

This guy can't wait to get a box of dildos thrown at him!

First, there’s the transfer station attendant who looks down the shoot methodically every few minutes (this is the same person who rubbernecks at car accidents and pulls over for roadkill).  Especially after a young woman with watery eyes pulls up to toss one lonely shoebox into the mix and leaves in a haze of burned rubber and skid marks.

"OH MY GOD....WHAT DID I JUST DOOOOO?!!"

Then there’s the guy who stands by the truck as it dumps its load at the landfill.  I know he’s a pervert.  In a sea of brown rotten food and broken electronics my beloved toys would surely stand out.  Pinks and flesh tones decorated with rows of pearls and beads.  Shiny, chrome bullets and oblong spheres glistening in the sun against unloved filth.  All of them, banded together just like Blanky, Radio and the Brave Little Toaster.  Damn, I’m sure sorry about that children’s movie reference.  But if you’ve seen it, your imagination can now replace these friends with assorted dildos.  I think I have kept my baby blanket this long for fear that it wouldn’t have a friend like the Brave Little Toaster to bail him out.

But last and most menacing, is the man in the bulldozer.  He sees everything as it’s skimmed down to thin layers and compacted into the ground.  I picture him actually stopping to see if the chrome object is of value. Believe you me, if it could be disinfected it sure would be!

Ooh, so shiny and well-shaped for nooks and crannies! Thanks, Honey. XOXO

When he bends over he finds a remote with more buttons than any remote control car he’s ever played with.  But catching his eye is something which gives him the creeps.  He’s heard the urban legends and has had nightmares of this happening one day.  Finding a dumped, dead body.  He can see the fleshy skin, it’s so real.  He’s narrowed it down to a toddler’s arm or the ugliest foot he has ever seen.  But upon closer inspection, nothing can describe the combination of disgust, envy, and intrigue which runs through his body.  He never would have touched it if it weren’t for the fascinating utility suction cup on the end.  Who wouldn’t want to stick it on a brick wall above your coworkers monitor?

"It was awesome! It was this fat, this thick and this long! Just dangling there!"

I guess I’ll never know what happened to my friends, only that I sent them to their putrid death.  I still stand by my decision as an alternative to a TSA discovery or giving my father a reason to think I wasn’t an angel.  Farewell, fleshy friends.

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Winners Wear Kittens As House Slippers

Do you know why you haven’t heard of Charlie Sheen since his roast?  Because I drank his blood with my breakfast of kindergarteners while enjoying the coziness of my new inside-out kitten house slippers!  In short, I’m killing it!  Ahem, actually, I’ve just always wanted to start off with something horrifying.

It seems a few days ago I was nominated for the 7X7 Link Award by the blogging mastermind of the The Dissemination of Thought  but I disregarded it as a nomination.  The all time nominee Leonardo DiCaprio knows all about that, don’t you Leo?  Well, I’ve come to find out that this nomination was really an award and now I am obligated to recycle it within the circle of bloggers that it spun from. Therefore, I hereby will divulge one unknown personal fact, reflect on 7 of my best posts, and then bestow the same 7 x 7 Link Award on 7 other bloggers who have probably already received it from a more noteworthy colleague.  I have also concluded that this is my 2nd award because I dismissed the Versatile Blogger award as a nomination a few weeks ago.  Thank you to the tattooed creator of the The Dissemination of Thought , you’re so Il, as in Kim Jong Il, so like a demigod and stuff.

Personal Fact

I’ll make it short and juicy (a reference to yesterday’s ever-popular “Money Shot” post) so I don’t lose any of you already disinterested readers.  Well, I am a very attractive woman. Let it be known!

Hold onto your men, ladies, for they might fall victim under my spell!

My Seven Best Posts

“Fear me, Ebay Bidders”.  I wrote this while on a high from winning my first Ebay bid, a friggin camera.  I schooled the guy who had been bidding on it for days and felt like fighting afterward.  If only it was a video bid….

“Goodbye, Money Shot”.  This two-day old post got 95 hits yesterday, my most popular post ever!  I’d like to thank the good internauts out there for reading my harmless perversion and behooving me to write more nasty s**t.

“Bloghorrea Of An Intexticated, Gayborly Nagagator”.  Dude, this took research and planning, like I was trying to get freshly pressed or something.  I enjoyed the mental strain and it took me an embarrassing amount of hours to write, but you all didn’t seem to enjoy it that much.  Maybe no one else gets off on diction like I do.

“Lessons In Sauna Etiquette”.  This post was dedicated to the crazy b*tch at my gym who I finally stood up to two days ago.  She drives me nuts and on Tuesday I shit her trap down.  I really wish I could have released my inner kung fu master on her but I’m suppose to be a lady, or something.

“Chuck Norris Called, He Wants His F**cking Moustache Back”.  This is ode to Portland, Oregon.  Regionally, moustaches can score more poon points here than anywhere outside of the 1980’s porn industry.

“He Loved To Eat Roasted Ass, As In Donkeys.  The Man Ate Donkeys”. You’d be amazed at how many people googled this topic.  I even had hits for donkey sex.  I love this post because it took me 30 minutes to write but gave me hours of entertainment.

“Lie To Me, LIE TO ME”.  This post helped me work through some stress and anxiety after my 18th f**cking job interview. It was not my funniest but it was the most therapeutic.

Now, I spend a lot of time on the computer these days and follow quite a few different types of blogs. I’ve actually found it quite disturbing how many bloggers tag their posts “humor” to then find no humor at all.  On the contrary, most tagged humor posts are laaaaaaammmeee!  I know there are many other bloggers out there I haven’t found, but these seven blogs definitely tickle my fancy.

Maximum Wage

Imonthebandwagon

Topiclessbar

Facehookin

A Confederacy of Spinsters

Stubbornandvile  

Way to Much Free Time

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Goodbye, Money Shot

I am warning any prude or sexually uncomfortable readers that this is a raw post, as expected, and to not read any further.  I don’t need any crappy comments to rain on my funfest.  For my regular readers, what can I say, my crass topics ebb and flow like the tide.

No matter whether or not you’ve been a lifelong admirer of American porn, you are able to appreciate the irony of legally enforced condoms on porn sets.  Which is exactly what the city of LA is one step closer to doing.

Herein lies the double irony:

Irony-a group of individuals most at risk for contracting and hosting STDs are not utilizing the only form of protection against infection and are in fact fighting any enforcement thereof.

Irony-the most exciting moments of a pornographic film (fluid release) may be its ultimate downfall.

It's no fun watching an unexlpoding money shot.

What do condoms do?  Catch fluid.  What is the pornographic equivalent of the Super Bowl final game-winning touchdown?  Tossing fluid.  The city of Los Angeles has officially created the world’s ultimate cock block.  Stand down, fellow cock-blockers.  Male roommates and ex-boyfriends have exposed me to years of midget porn, cartoon porn, classic 70’s porn, fetish porn and plain ole’ hardcore sunday afternoon porn.  So I believe I can say with experience that every scene ends with the money shot.  The face, the butt, the hair, any place humiliating and difficult to remove.  But possibly by next year, the City of LA may successfully end the era of the iconic one-liner, “Cum on my face!” and replace it with, “Slap me with your prophylactic!”.

Talented women like this will be out of work without the money shot.

Let’s dive right in to a condom enforced porn industry.  Based on the fact that the mandate is to eliminate fluid transmission between two partners, the following is likely:

  1. No naked penises (and there goes my interest)
  2. No threesomes, foursomes, fivesomes, etc unless everyone was wearing condoms
  3. No money shot (a single tear…)
  4. An awesome spanky, trash baggy noise in the background
  5. More lube (if that was even possible)
  6. Disturbing close-ups (who wants to watch an upclose Trojan commercial on HD?)
  7. Better acting (this is just hopeful)

I would not watch this porn scene.

Considering the above circumstances, it’s probable that the face of pornos would change, literally (author laughing hysterically at the moment!).  Most likely this mandate would whittle the classic porn scene down to two people having married sex, no close-ups, less excitement and ending with a prophylactic being slapped around on someone’s face.  I don’t want to see that.

The pornography industry serves four important services:

  1. Helps unattractive people get laid
  2. Keeps some sexual deviants off the streets and in their apartments (I see the connection readers, but this is not me)
  3. Allows the semi-whores of the world to feel like someone out there is a bigger whore
  4. Teaches the sexually inexperienced how to properly take a money shot

Is there enough latex in the world to supply to porn industry?

I do not live in LA and will therefore not be able to vote against this mandate next summer.  But I hope that the residents of LA appreciate what their local porn industry does for their city.  They’re not using your genitals so let them fornicate irresponsibly.  A condom is to a porn set what a money shot is to a Mennonite. Devastating.

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People I Would Wipe My Ass With

It’s strange, I know, but some people deserve to be wiped across my ass.  I have a few different “Ass Wiping”  lists: a personal, a political and a master list.  The personal AW list is not for public readers, I only dream of ass wiping these people.  The political AW list is also not for the public because I have found in my life that even the best of friends can create a continental rift over opposing political views.  But the master AW list is totally kosher for public reading.  This is not a s**t list.  A s**t list consists of people who make you angry or frustrated, but you may still respect as a nemesis or authority figure.  An Ass Wiping list is exactly what is says, only for people who deserve nothing else than feces wipes across their skin from an anus, after eating your meal of choice, of course.

The Hipster

Hipster is really short for Hypocritical.

I appreciate creative fashion, ironic shirts and the general anti-corporatocracy sentiment.  But trying to hard squeezes the living message out of any movement.  Hipsters can’t be friends with anyone other than a hipster.  They are known for sporting hideous staches, mismatching out-dated worn out clothing and somehow all have bad eyesight requiring glasses.  I believe it’s also illegal for male hipsters to purchase pants loose enough to support mobility and healthy sperm development.  Which I also appreciate because it may slow their reproductive abilities.  But enough judgement and degradation, they dislike my kind too.  They make the AW list because they are a walking contradiction purposely designed to make un-hipsters like myself feel unworthy.  Staches and soft old t-shirts make for soft wiping material and some are so unkempt that you wouldn’t notice a s**t stain anyway.

Orange People

Gene Wilder wiped his ass with these guys after every day on the set.

There are so many orange people around that I could deny myself toilette paper the remainder of my life and still have enough replacement materials until I die.  This goes far beyond Reality TV (which should be purged, crucified and burned) and extends to your morning barista,  poorly parented teenagers, brides, and from what I saw most lighter-skinned women on the Vegas strip.  So how do so many people make such a general category and why do they all deserve such foul treatment?  Because they pay for the chemical application of umpa lumpa orange and are mentally inept enough to think that none of us will notice.  Their AW list qualification is similar to that of a Darwin Award.  A plain idiot may suffer from a genetic downfall and should be ass wiped for his/her own good.

Chihuahua Owners

Who doesn't want to punish the owner of this animal?

Now this is tricky.  If it weren’t for my confusion over whether or not it’s mentally unhealthy to want to wipe your ass with a Chihuahua, I would have listed the dog here instead.  But I blame the owners for perpetuating the useless breeding of such crappy, snappy little rats.  I sort of even blame animal protection for not rounding them up and euthanizing all of them at once.  Put these pointy-eared monsters in the most expensive Louis Vuitton bags available and it’s still a nasty s**t in an expensive bag.  It’s quite funny actually to see a hell-a-rich woman who smells like Chanel and money walk by you with a wingless bat hanging out of her $2,000 bag.  Very few things can make me feel better than someone who smells like money, but that moment does every time.  I love dogs, all dogs.  But Chihuahuas are not dogs, they are rats which the Department of Health has not yet begun to regulate.  Chihuahua owners, beware and fear the wrath of my Ass Wiping list.  I kick things at random so keep these little beasts off the sidewalks too.

Recession Deniers

Money is my favorite toilette paper. So give me more of your money, working Americans

To you a-holes, you piss me off, you’re lying and you know it.  If you really believe there is no major economic dysfunction which has driven millions of Americans further into the depths of poverty and struggle with no end in sight, then you will make the most pleasurable ass wiper of them all.  I might even make you my reusable ass wiper, until shame and disgust sets in so deep that you join me on my journey down to hell.  They are saving a special place for you.

The candidates who made honorable mention:

Donald Trump-because his hair is too ridiculous, he has too much money and I think it’s time someone s**t on him.

Kim Kardashian-because I don’t really know much about her except that she is rich because she is rich and she is contributing to the perpetuation of reality TV.  Definitely in for an ass wiping.

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