What a Dick

I stood in the middle of a bar, drink in hand and pleasantly drunk. I swayed back and forth with the rhythm of drunken homosexuals singing bad karaoke versions of otherwise fabulous songs. She stood behind behind me and off to the right and eventually she caught my eye. She had long blond hair, perky tits, long legs and a bit of a mustache. I turned to her, locked eyes, took a sip of whiskey and blurted out "Hey, are you a fucking dude?" She smiled and averted her eyes. "No I'm a lesbian." I paused before taking another sip of whiskey and said "Well, you look like you're sporting and X and a Y chromosome to me." She took a step closer me and and introduced herself as Monique. She told me she thought I was beautiful and I took another sip of whiskey. "Oh yeah? I think you look like a dude." I said with a smirk on my face. "No, I'm a lesbian stuck in a man's body." I looked her over and said "Nice tits, are they real?" She looked at me and said "They are now." I knew my original assumption had been correct. "So you're a dude who likes chicks but you're a lesbian? Yeah, that makes SO much sense. Do you have a cock or a pussy?" She grabbed my hand, smiled at me and put my hand on her crotch. My jaw must've dropped because she said "Oh you like that don't you?" Not only was she a man but she was sporting one of the biggest cocks my hand had ever touched. She leaned in and whispered in a voice that was no longer feminine "You ever been fucked by a dude dressed up as a chick?" I pulled back, looked at her for a moment and said "No I'm not into men who are incapable of being a man." I grabbed his cock a little harder, kissed his cheek and walked off.

Trust your instincts. If she looks like a dude, chances are she's got a huge cock.

Please tell me I'm adopted...

I need to tell this story…

My Dad can’t spell for shit. It’s always been a joke that without spell check, he’d be completely lost. There are, those precious rare occasions, when even spell check throws it’s hands in the air and goes, “what the fuck?”

———

me: “Hello.”

dad: “Hey, it’s your Dad. My PowerBook is broken.”

me: “What makes you think that?”

dad: “Spell check isn’t working.”

me: “Ok, explain.”

dad: “I’m typing in a simple word and it can’t find the god damn thing. It’s not even giving me choices.”

me: “What’s the word?… hold on, Ashley’s (my sister) beeping through”

dad: “Oh, okay.”

———-

me: “Hey, what’s up?”

my sister: “Dad’s gonna call you. Be ready.”

me: “He’s on the other line.”

my sister: “Has he told you yet?”

me: “Told me what?”

my sister: “Oh fuck. I’m not spoiling it. Jesus, I hope we’re adopted. Bye. Have fun.”

———-

me: “Dad?”

dad: “Yeah, she okay?”

me: “Yep. Question about Halloween. What word is spell checker choking on?”

dad: “Sub Jest.”

me: “Huh? Sub Jest? Like two words?”

dad: “No, suuuubbbbb jjjjeeeeeessssttttt. Why is this so damn hard?”

me: “Dad, I don’t know what word that is either. Can you use it in a sentence?”

dad: “Ok, I’ll try” ….. silence…. “Ok, why the fuck can’t this fucking mac spell sub jest?”

me: “Dad, calm down. That’s not a word.” (stifling laughter) “What sentence are you typing?”

dad: “It’s a note to your aunt. I want her to SUB JEST to your cousin that they come up the night before the party. Ugh, I hate computers.”

me: “Suggest Dad. The word is suggest.”

dad: “That’s what I said.”

me: “How’d you spell it?”

dad: “S. U. B. G. E. S. T.”

me: “I suggest you spell it S-U-G-G-E-S-T.”

dad: “I guess your sister was right then. Gotta go.”

me: “Bye Dad.”

One For the Road

Masturbation can be a fun activity for one to do when they're alone. I often masturbate, and I use the term "often" instead of throwing out the actual number of times I masturbate in a day to make me seem like less of a sexual deviant. The truth is I masturbate between 3-5 times a day, if not more. I understand the need to masturbate, to have an orgasm but the kid I'm about to tell you about used his masturbation to invade my privacy. Not only was it disturbing but it was HILARIOUS.

At the time I lived with my boyfriend and two of his brothers. Not only was I surrounded by men who probably masturbated at the drop of a towel but I was also in my room masturbating most of the day. What? I have needs. One day while my boyfriend was at work, his brothers were mowing the lawn with a friend of theirs. The youngest brother asked me to take him to the store and I obliged. Upon returning to the house I decided it was time for me to take a shower and get ready because my boyfriend and I were going out that afternoon. I took my shower, masturbated and dried off. I opened my cabinet searching for my bottle of lotion and it was nowhere to be found. Now this really pissed me off because it was a brand new bottle of lotion and it was mine. No one should have been in or near my room, let alone in my bathroom stealing my lotion. I got dressed, went into the living room and interrogated the boys about my lotion. They both denied taking it so I went into their bathroom and looked in the cabinet. BINGO, my fucking lotion. Oh but wait, what's this? WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?! Next to my bottle of lotion lie a pair of light blue, skimpy panties. MY light blue, skimpy panties. Lotion in one hand, panties in the other I stormed into the living room snorting and stomping like a bull.

"Which one of you sick fucks decided it was okay to steal my panties AND my lotion?"

They both sat there, mouths ajar, looking at each other.

"I don't know if this is some sort of weird fucking joke but this is not okay. It's not okay for you to touch my things, let alone go into my room when I'm not here."

The youngest brother quickly denies followed by the oldest.

"So if it wasn't either of you, then who the fuck was it?"

They sit in silence, still staring at each other. I could almost see the light bulb appear over the youngest brother's head. He explains that the kid was here had done similar things before and that's why he was living with his aunt. Who happened to be my boyfriend's father's secretary. The oldest told me that while the youngest and I were gone the boy had come inside to use the restroom and it had taken him quite a while. He chalked it up to the kid taking a massive shit. Then he also said that the kid had commented on how hot I was.

So apparently, this kid decides to waltzes into my fucking room, dig through my drawers, find a pretty pair of panties, raid my fucking bathroom cabinet, steal my lotion, go to the OTHER bathroom and masturbate. As if by not masturbating in MY bathroom he was showing a little bit of respect. I'm faced with the decision to call my boyfriend's father, who is a devout Christian and explain to him what just happened so he can tell the boy's aunt or I can just let it be.

Fuck that. I'm telling.

I call my boyfriend's father and begin to explain what happened as the bothers listen in. The three of us are sat around the kitchen table laughing so hard we're crying. He asks me if what I was telling him was the truth or if I was just playing a prank on him. I explain that even though we're all dying of laughter that the situation is indeed serious.

"Oh my, OH MY."

I could hear the embarrassment in his voice as he realized he'd have to explain the situation to his secretary.

He does so and she apologizes to me a million times. Every time I see her in public she does all she can to avoid me and if a collision is unavoidable she does her best not to make eye contact with me while we speak. It must be odd speaking to the woman your nephew sexually assaulted in his mind while holding her panties in one hand and jerking off with stolen lotion in the other.

I'm all for self gratification and fantasizing but for fucks sake, if you're going to masturbate with someone else's lotion while sniffing their panties PUT THEM BACK WHEN YOU'RE FINISHED SO NO ONE KNOWS.

This has been a lesson in masturbation.
The more you know, the more you can blow.

Social Media Explained

Facebook - “I love horses.”

MySpace - “Beating a dead horse sent you a message.”

Twitter - “A dead horse? I beat dead unicorns.”

Tumblr - “Truthful Tuesday, I’m obsessed with unicorns. Sexually. Here’s a picture of my boobs.”

Witstream - “So, how about that Charlie Sheen roast? Tiger blood!”

Social Security Numbers' Mystery Unmasked

We all know that a social security number is made up of the “Area number”, the “Group number” and the “Serial number” (AAA-GG-SSSS), but did you know there is a mathematical formula behind them that proves Chaos Theory? Try this out, I promise it works. That and I have way too much fucking time on my hands.

If you take the sum of the first three digits, plus the sum of the second two digits, minus the sum of the last four digits, multiplied by the three digit number created by the first, fourth and seventh digits, then divided by difference between the first and last digits given the last is larger (difference between second and eighth if this is the case) then if the middle two digits are less than 50 you round the number to the tenth, if the middle two digits are more than 50 you round the number to the hundredth, if the middle two digits are equal to 50 you round to the whole.

Take that final number and multiply it by sixth digit, minus the seventh digit, divided by the eighth digit and add the ninth. Square the number. Write that number down, we’ll come back to it.

Add each of the individual numbers together, subtract your birthdate, subtract the year of your birth (ie subtract 1,975 if you were born in 1975) and add the number of siblings you have (only those born before you). If this number is a positive number, take the square root and round to the nearest whole number. If it is a negative number, subtract it from itself (ie, if -1985, subtract -1985 from it.). Multiply this number by the number you have wrote down from the last part.

This final number is the amount of you I expect actually mathematically finished this equation. Especially on a friday night.

Math courtesy my last three Irish Car Bombs.

1-800-SEX-CHAT

My first caller when I was working as a phone sex operator was very quick. I had never ever had phone sex before. I told him it was my first time and he told me that I sounded very sexy. He asked me put my hand in my shirt and start playing with my breast and I told him I was. Then he said he wanted to get fucked in the ass. So I told him I had a 12inch strap on ready to take him. Then I heard an "ugh yeah" followed by the click of him hanging up. This took about 30 seconds. It was so quick I thought we got disconnected. The other girls told me that most calls end with a hang up. So that was a very encouraging feeling starting a new job.

What I really liked about being a phone sex operator was the variety and diversity of people's fetishes who called in. Every time my phone rang I didn't have a clue what the caller was going to want, unless I recognized the number on the caller ID. Some men called in so frequently and talked to the girls so much that they even had special accounts set up at discounted rates. But every new caller always got me excited. I would look at each one as an opportunity to learn something new.

Hands down the weirdest caller that I had was a guy who was into vacuum cleaners. Anything thing to do with a vacuum would turn him on. He said the fantasy came from a cartoon he saw when he was a boy. It was a Hansel and Gretel story where instead of the witch having a broom she had a vacuum that she used to chase the kids around, suck them up and they would be trapped in the cleaner's bag. So I would make up stories about chasing children and chasing him around the house with my magic vacuum. Needless to say he was a happy customer.

Bottle Butt

We all have our quirks, dark secrets and fetishes. Mine happens to be bondage and spanking. My best friend, however, is at the opposite end of the spectrum. I'm very submissive with men in the bedroom and she tends to be more dominant. I got to spend quite a bit of time with her yesterday, which was awesome because we hadn't seen one another in 7 months. She had a Karate tournament and asked me to ride along and I did. We had to pick up my friend Joe (future boy toy) from Ball Ground on the way to Greenville, so on the ride she and I discussed men. Our favorite subject. I have never known any women to be as boy crazy as she and I. After we picked up Joe (future boy toy) we started talking about the weirdest things we've ever made a guy do. Oh, I forgot to mention that not only is she a Domme but she also likes "Panty Boys" as she calls them. She LOVES making men dress up as women and basically emasculating them. It's something, as a submissive, I could NEVER do. I prefer the masculinity of man be intact when he shoves his cock inside of me. Call me old fashioned but I LOVE a manly man. You know, the kind of man who can house a family of birds in his chest hair. The kind of man who can pick me up and throw me over his shoulders when I refuse to go with him. The kind of man who puts me in my place when I won't make his favorite sandwich. I can't deal with "Panty Boys", I'd eat them alive.

Back to the matter at hand.

I asked her what the weirdest thing she's ever made a guy do and what she told me had me in tears and it had Joe's (future boy toy) asshole clenched so tight that I was sure when he stood up he'd take the interior with him.

She met a guy online and began chatting with him. As their relationship grew they decided to play a bit. This guy gets off on being told what to do so it's not like he was being forced to do any of this. She was drinking Moonshine one night and got a little More than frisky. She was having a bit of fun watching him masturbate and she noticed a beer bottle in the background. She demanded that he pick up the beer bottle and shove it into his ass. He obliged. As he's basically fucking himself in the ass with this fucking beer bottle she tells him to masturbate. So there this dude is, ass naked with a bottle shoved right up his ass, jerking it on web cam. She's loving this shit. He's getting ready to cum and she yells at him to bend over and cum on his own fucking face AND HE FUCKING DOES IT. The dude busts a nut in his own face, bottle up his ass, then proceeds to lick his own fucking cum from around his mouth.

At this point, I'm laughing so hard that tears are streaming down my face. Joe (future boy toy) is completely silent. Lips and asshole puckered. No story in my vault could top hers so I didn't even tell one.

Later she's talking about her fantasy to fuck the Weasley's from Harry Potter. All of them, even Jenny. Her fantasy is having an orgy with all of them and being able to cast a spell on herself to have extra holes to take all of the men at the same time. Me, being a fucking idiot, asked her "Will it feel good in the extra holes?" She looks at me, serious look across her face and says "Of course it feels good, it's fucking magic." I die laughing.

After we dropped Joe (future boy toy) off, our conversation drifted into more serious topics. I realized that no matter how far apart she and I are, she will always be fucking weirder than me.

This is why good friends are so very important, because who the fuck else is going to stand beside you through all the weird fucking shit that you do?

Popped By The Cops

When I was 17 I decided to go to Job Corps because I had already missed so much of my Senior year that no matter how high my grades were I'd still have to repeat it. Job Corps was a great decision not because of the job training, but because I lived on campus and it was nothing but a tiny town full of teenagers and young adults. I can still recall seeing people fucking everywhere behind buildings. Good thing that Job Corps handed out condoms or there could have been another baby boom. On the weekends you were allowed to leave campus IF you were over 18. Which meant that my friends and I fell just under that category. However, being the cunning little fucks that we were we found a way out which required climbing over a fence without being seen, walking through a cornfield, walking down the highway WITHOUT being seen by the officer running the front gate and walking down the train tracks (trestle and all)into the tiny town of San Marcos, TX.

A few of us decided to go into town one Saturday to go swimming at the waterfall. The group included me, Steven, Matt and Waldo. Yeah, Waldo. The most cock-eyed son of bitch I have ever met. He STILL holds that record to this day. After passing through turmoil just to get into town we go into Hastings, which is a huge music/book store, to cool off before we continued to the waterfall. While we were there Matt bought a Walkman and an Eminem tape. Yeah you just read that correctly. Tape. Walkman. After we were done, we made our way to the waterfall, smoked some Kush with the college kids that were there, swam and just enjoyed being free for a day. It started raining so Steven and I got out and walked into the woods. Somethings went on, a few firsts but that's for another story. Let's just say that I've had that awesome sex scene beneath the canopy of the trees as the rain drizzles down on me.

As the rain came down harder we figured we'd better get back on the road before it got any worse. We made our way back to Hastings, went in and sat down. I got bored sitting there so I decided to walk around. I noticed one of the employees following me around. I went over to the guys and I sat down. I leaned over to Matt and I said

"Hey dude, either the guy who works here has the hots for me or he thinks I'm shoplifting."

Matt basically told me I was nuts so I beckoned him to watch. Without hesitation as soon as I got up the employee was back on my ass. After a while of playing musical dick with that guy I told the guys it was time to go.

Now, before we entered the building we were made to put our bags behind the counter. We went to the counter, grabbed our bags and proceeded outside. I was the last one out. As I walk out the security alarm goes off. I was already embarrassed by the fact the alarm had gone off causing EVERYONE in the store to stop and stare but as one of the employees grabbed my arms I could hear the snarky comments of parents to their children.

"And that's what happens if you shoplift,
you don't want to be like her do you?"
"No, Ma'am."
"Good."

The employee asked me to empty my bag and I did. There it was, Matt's Walkman still in the case with no receipt. I knew at that moment I was fucked because without a proper receipt it looks like I stole the Walkman. The cops were called and when they arrived they took me into a tiny room. One officer left to ask the boys some questions and I was stuck with Officer Wonderful in that tiny little room. He began to interrogate me and I asked to see the video tape of me shoplifting. I then explained the situation, told him about my bag being behind the counter and that there was no possible way that I could've hidden the Walkman on my persons, grabbed my bag, and shoved it in there all before walking out of the door. The counter was right there next to the door. He claimed I had stolen it earlier that day.

That was the moment I lost my cool. I screamed profanities at him, I spit at him and I kicked the chair he was sitting in. He got up, grabbed me and slammed me against the wall. I threw my head back catching the bottom of his chin and he let me go. I turned around, hands clenched at my side, waiting for him to draw his baton. He never did. We just stood there staring at each other. At that moment his partner came in, whispered something to the cop, handed him the Walkman and walked out. The cop approached me with a bit of malice in his eyes and I took a step forward, greeting him with my pride that he'd tried to take from me. He handed me the Walkman and explained that the store had checked the bar code on the device and it showed that it had in fact been purchased earlier that day. I knew that he knew he was in the wrong for the way he interrogated me, instigated me. He apologized, stuck his hand out to shake mine and I spit in his hand. Not just a little spit. I hocked a loogie and spit it in his hand. I could see the anger seething beneath his skin but there was nothing he could do because he KNEW my Miranda rights had been violated.

I walked out of the store with my pride still intact and then I kicked Matt right in the fucking dick for leaving that fucking Walkman in the package with no receipt. We made it back to campus, no scars, no bruises, just pride, just laughter and a bottle of MD 20/20 that some old man bought for us.

All in all,
It was a great fucking day.

Short n Sweet

Hey all! It's me, Steph, better known as The Google Goddess or also The Akron Bean.

You may recognize me from a fantastic podcast called "The Last Podcaster Standing."

I've been invited here to share my thoughts and feelings on whatever I might come up with(which could be dangerous).

I just wanted to give a quick introduction and give a huge thanks to Bone for the invite to do this. It truly is an honor and it gives me a great way to let go of all the funny, fucked up shit I deal with on a daily basis, plus give you updates from the show...you guys really don't know what you're in for!

Expect a lot from me very soon!! So, that's that. Okay...moving on.

#TLPS

G.G.

It could be a crisis, but I can't tell because I'm high

It could be a crisis, but I can't tell because I'm high

The funny thing about love is the way it enjoys anal.

Seriously, love will sneak up behind you and jam it's dry, 9 inch rod in your ass.

If you take a look back at my life (it's in the semen stained VHS case next to Babes in Boyland), you would notice a pattern of bad decisions, that I can always link back to a man. And one time a woman.

I attract domineering men. Conquering a lady like me is a challenge to some. Then it's a game. I want to win the game, so I'm all in. Immediately. I've got 8200 in chips and they are all on red. Fast, hard, hot and heavy love. Like your first high. Like 160 in a new camaro. Like your first orgasm. It will never be that good ever again. You will be chasing the dragon for the remainder of your relationship.

You're winning, buying round after round, having a great time, then BAM. Wrong hole, love!

That one straw. It dropped and the camel is fucked. You're also fucked.

I have acted crazy over relationships, not because of deep feelings for another human being, but because of my fear of loss. I mean losing the game. Defeat. I do not take it well.
When I hear a Lifetime wife beater say "if I can't have you, no one will" I can relate. He's got it right there. If you aren't going to be mine, you're damn well not going to be anyone Else's either.

I've burned clothing, smashed a windshield with my easel, broke into an exes apartment, slandered and most likely libeled as well. I have poor decision making skills. And love brings out the worst in me.

I blame public schools. And the boys I slept with while I was there.

Mikey's Last Stand

Originally posted in it's entirety at getoffendedbone.tumblr.com

My name’s Michael but everyone calls me Squeal. I fucking hate it, so please call me Mikey. I just turned 8 years old… physically. I’m much older mentally. I have to be, otherwise I’d be dead by now, like my mother. My dad killed her. He’s a fucking asshole. Oh, he’s still around, he didn’t go to jail or anything. It’s not like he killed her with his own hands or a gun or anything. No, he made her do it herself like he did everything else. It kind of makes sense if you really think about it. He made her do everything for him, even cut up his god damn steak. Only fitting that his constant mental abuse drove her to parking her car in the garage, turning on the key, and turning off her life.

She did leave me a note. At least.

Dear Michael,

Mommy loves you. I'm sorry I have to leave you but I think it's best. Don't hate me. I know you're stronger than me and much smarter. I know you'll find your own way out.

Love, Mom

It could have said the same thing in as few as three words, “Fuck You Michael”.

How can an 8 year old possibly talk like this? you’re probably asking yourself right now. I’m sort of a genius with an abusive cocksucker of a father who only ever taught me one thing… excessive alcohol consumption leads to vomit on his 8 year old’s bedroom floor and subsequently the before mentioned 8 year old son cleaning it all up the next morning. Like I said, Cocksucker.

Squeal was the nickname given to me by Fred Cooper the first day of 7th grade. Yep, genius, remember? He said I looked like a tiny little piglet compared to everyone else. From that moment forth, everyone squeals and oinks like a little pig when I come into a classroom. The name stuck, unfortunately, and I was forever dubbed, “Squeal” by my peers.

Click here to read the whole story

Does This Pregnancy Make Me Look Crazy?

Yes folks, that's me as an expectant mother. I almost look sweet don't I? Don't let the smile and the Summer dress fool you. I was a ball of emotions. Pregnancy isn't the same for every woman and one of my followers suggested this as a blog so I decided it would be fun to share the crazy things I did during pregnancy.

When I found out I was pregnant I was severely surprised because of my past I didn't think I'd ever be able to have a child. I was happy, nonetheless. A few weeks after I found out I was pregnant I started getting sick all the time. I couldn't even look at a piece of meat without vomiting on the floor. The worst food experience I can recall was eating dinner with my son's father and his family at a steak house. No one but he and I knew I was pregnant so I had to try and keep my vomiting to a minimum. I was doing good, with my little salad and buttered bread, until they brought dinner out. The smell alone was killing and watching all of the fat, starving people tear into their meat like animals hit a nerve. I looked at my son's father and he knew what was going to happen. As soon as I stood, I turned my head and lost what little of my lunch I had eaten. They all looked at me as if I were insane and we had to spill the vomit, so to speak, and admit that I was pregnant. They congratulated us and continued eating as I walked outside and sat in the car.

I was in college when I found out I was pregnant and I happened to be working on a paper about Paganism. Because I knew so much about the religion already I had sat down and begun banging away at the keyboard. It was storming outside and being the scatterbrain that I am, I hadn't yet saved any of my work. Much to my dismay, the power shut of thus erasing every last bit of work I had done. I sat there staring at the computer in disbelief, scolding myself for not saving any of my work. Then as it hit me that I'd have to start all over I began sobbing into my hands. Not merely sobbing but screaming at the same time. I walked through the entire house, screaming, cursing, crying and stomping my feet. I flailed my arms as if I were signaling to the Gods that I would kill them all shall I ever find them. In between sobbing I'd grab a Little Debbie and furiously eat it while screaming. It took nearly 30 minutes for my son's father to calm me down. I went back to my computer, still slightly sobbing and started all over again. I got an "A" on that paper so it wasn't all bad.

In the months leading up to my son's birth I became increasingly emotional and anything would set me off. I once cursed out a woman in the grocery store for taking the cucumber I wanted. I sobbed at her and shook my fist until she relinquished that damn cucumber. I saw it first and I wanted it. In my mind, it already belonged to me.

Sitting on the couch one evening a Huggies commercial came on. I can't recall the content but there was a mother holding her newborn baby and I started to violently sob. My son's father looked at me and asked if I were okay. I cried at him "I'm just fucking fine. Why do you ask so many fucking questions?" He said "If you're okay, why are you crying for no reason." I paused for a moment and began thinking again of the commercial and I screamed "Because that stupid baby on that fucking commercial was so cute and I wanna hold it. Whats wrong with you? How could you not noticed how cute the fucking baby was?" and I stormed off to my bedroom where I grabbed the box of Little Debbie's hidden in my sock drawer and ate until fell asleep.

My son's father bought me a Playstation 3 when he realized how bored I was being at home. I was grateful because being a gamer, I could sit there for hours with my Little Debbie's, pickles, Doritos and 64 ounce mug of ice water and play video games all day. My fiend Ben came over one day and he brought over some fighting game. I usually play RPG's but I figured I'd give it shot since I loved playing Street Fighter back in the day. A few rounds in I noticed that Ben was doing the same moves over and over and it was really beginning to piss me off. As the little man on the game announced that Ben had won I sat forward and I screamed "That is such bullshit! You only won because you had me in the fucking corner kicking me repeatedly. Admit you stupid fuck. Admit that you suck at this game and the only way to beat was to do a repeat fucking move." He stared at me in disbelief for a second and he said "I think this pregnancy has really gone to your head." Without hesitation I threw the controller right at his head and hit him square in the face. I made him leave for being a dick and I refused to give him the game back. We're still friends to this day and we laugh about that incident whenever we're together.

I was also known to eat in the middle of the night. My son's father once found me sitting Indian style in the middle of the kitchen, no lights, no TV on. Just me, in the dark eating a piece of chocolate cake. He asked me what I was doing and I pulled the fridge open and I yelled "I'm eating a piece of fucking cake, genius. What does it look like I'm doing, giving birth?" At that point he knew it was best to leave me to my prey.

The birth went fine except for me cursing out a few of the nurses for not letting me eat. I wish I had more crazy things to tell you but for the most part it was just me crying and cursing at people. Those are the ones that stick out in my mind. I almost missed being pregnant because it gave me an excuse to curse at people, flip them off and throw things at them without them being able to retaliate. My next pregnancy is going to be awesome.

The fucking irony of it all was that during the first draft of this blog my fucking power went out and I lost everything I had been working on. Luckily, I laughed.

That Is Bacon I Smell, Right?

One of the last nights I spent in Texas before I left at the age of 21 was possibly one of the best nights I've ever had. There were approximately 6 of us that night, if not more. My recollection is a bit fuzzy. The first part of the night was spent at a friend's house drinking and doing other recreational activities that may or may not have been illegal in the state of Texas back then. After that we drove to Cue & Cushion which was the pool hall we were always at if we weren't at home.

This is where I meet my first love. A bottle of Jameson. I haven't been the same since then.

After I have no idea how many shots of Jameson I realized I was being given the stink eye by my fuck buddy's ex girlfriend. At that point, being of Irish decent and full of Jameson, I stood on top of our pool table and kindly yelled "What the fuck are YOU looking at?" she looked around like she had no idea that she'd been staring at me all night and I said "Yeah you, with the face. You got a problem?" I was then yanked down off of the table by my ex. Me being 5'8" and a buck twenty-five at the time, it wasn't even a chore for him to yank me down. The owner asked us to leave because he knew if I stuck around I'd end up hitting the girl and being arrested. The guy adored me so he didn't want to see anything bad happen to me or on her face in his parking lot. So we piled in the Honda and took off.

I know, I can't believe this fucking story isn't over yet either.

We were on our way to an abandoned hospital by the name of Jefferson Davis that was supposed to be haunted. I love the supernatural so I was completely okay with being shitface drunk in some old abandoned building that could possibly collapse at any time. I was such a rebel. On the way there I really had to piss so I begged the driver to stop somewhere. To this day, I'm still not sure why we didn't stop at a store. May have had something to do with the car full of drunk people or something. We stopped at an abandoned garage and my friend and I got out and walked a little ways, dropped our panties and started going. About that a time, a light beamed right into my face. I threw my hand up and yelled "You get that fucking light out of my fucking face or so help me motherfucker when I get up you won't have a fucking hand to hold your dick with." I heard a lady say "Pardon me?" and considering my friend and I were the only two ladies in the group, if you'd so like to call us that, I became confused and aggravated. Like a redneck when Dale Jr doesn't win that circular race thingy they watch every so often. Being confused isn't something I'm good at and I often hide it with my aggression so I said "Yeah, you fucking heard me. No hand for your dick are you deaf?" At that point my friend was standing beside me pants up telling me it was a cop. I was still peeing. I looked up at my friend and said "Cop or not, I came here to piss and that's what I intend on doing."

Light beaming down upon me in mid piss, I finished what I came to do. Stood up, pulled my panties up, pulled my pants up and did a little jig that involved me dancing in circle around my friend.

Somehow, my friend managed to talk the cop out of arresting me even though I was way beyond the legal limit and public urination is illegal. We went on to Jefferson Davis where I twisted my ankle coming out. I was convinced until I woke up sober that a ghost pushed me down for being an asshole to that lady cop.

I laugh every time I hear "Mrs. Officer" by Lil Wayne and I often wonder if she would have let me have sex with her in the back of her cop car in front of my friends while holding her light on me.

That, my friends, is my only regret.

Semper My Thigh

It was the uniform. It's always been an object of my lust. Army, Navy, state police, if it had a vertical button line, I was in need of fresh panties.

But the U.S. Marine dress uniform brings my clit to attention.

So, I was helpless against it's power when it's host brought out his camera for some show-and-tell. I smile, with no intention of the photos being taken. Then a glass of white.
I really enjoy wine.
Two, three, and soon the second bottle is uncorked.
We're listening to Tool and having a very deep conversation about the apartheid and anal stimulation. I'm feeling a little silly and I grab his dress jacket off of the recliner and slip into it.
I pose on the ottoman, kicking my bare feet up.
"Stay right there," he fumbles for his camera.
I sit up and grab for the camera. "I want to take a picture of your nuts wearing a hat."
"OK. But then you."
"I don't have nuts," I laugh as I flash him my left breast. It was on.
There was so much heavy petting going on, his dog was getting jealous.
I had no resistance. I would be forever captured on film in campaign destroying glory. There were photos of positions that the Kama Sutra is trying to buy rights to. Shit, I was in my early 20's, flexible, and had no scruples.
We used props for some of our photo shoots. Toys, a small, leather cat-o-nine, and a variety of vibrators make special guest appearances. Handcuffs were a favorite of his, and he enjoyed restraining me and snapping away. Eventually, there were dozens of pictures, as proof of the sultry deeds we shared.
A year later he was out of the Marines, and we were both working as Correctional Officers for state penitentiaries. Still with the uniform, I could handle the jump to fucking a civilian. 
We worked at two different facilities, but we each were members of the Correctional Emergency Response Team (CERT) at our own prison and occasionally our two teams would meet for joint weapons or restraints training.
The men in CERT are extremely tough on the women that join, so I enjoyed fucking with them. Big, muscle bound, morons getting off to shot gun blasts and OC bursts to the face. But I was stuck with them, and after all we were a team.
Restraint training generally consisted of drills that showed your skill at shackling an "inmate". We would take turns playing the inmate, offer a bit of resistance for a true to life feel. My turn to be the convict. I go down easily (that's what she said) wiggling a little, but eventually I am subdued by the officer. As soon as his hands leave the cuffs, I slip one wrist through the grips and then the second. I dangle the empty shackles above my head.
The guys gathered in a circle and laugh at my former captor. He turns around, grabs my arm and swings me around. I pitch forward as his knee quickly jabs the back of my leg. He takes me to the ground in a practically effortless movement, and cuffs my ankle. Before I could fight back, he has the second clasp around my wrist, hogtied, so to speak.
Breathing heavily, the winner leans down and puts his lips to my ear.
"I know how much you like cuffs, Kodak."

Virginity: Give It Away, Give It Away, Give It Away Now

I lost my virginity at the tender age of 16 because the douchebag I was dating wouldn't stop hounding me so one night I finally yelled "Just fucking take it already!" Losing my virginity was nothing like it is in the movies. It was just some young guy humping away the last of my innocence and completely erasing it when he came and fell flat on my chest. Taking a woman's virginity seems to be something really special to men, okay not special, just something they can brag about to their friends. What about all the sexually experienced women who have taken a man's virginity? You don't hear a lot of those stories and that's why I'm sharing mine with you.

I was probably 20 at the time and my friend Nick called me up one afternoon and told me that he'd like for me to take his virginity. The thought of turning him down didn't even cross my mind because for years I had a crush on the guy. He was Italian, olive complected, pale ice blue eyes, tall with dark hair. I wanted him so bad. Naturally, I jumped at the chance to jump his bones. I was living with my friend Tony at the time and I was completely alone so I invited him over. When he finally got there we didn't waste any time on greeting one another. He came in, grabbed me and began slowly kissing me. We made our way to my bedroom, still kissing. He undressed me, laid me on the bed and undressed himself but not before pulling a condom out of his back pocket.

This is where the story goes awry.

He was hard as he opened the condom with his teeth and for some reason watching him tear into that packet as a vulture would the carrion of his latest victim, really excited me. He pulled the condom out, wait for it, and completely unraveled it. I'm sure the look on my face was that of a person watching an accident in slow motion. As he struggled with the condom, still hard may I add, I asked him if he had another. He said he did, grabbed it and gave it to me. I showed him how to use a condom properly that day. He crawls on top of me and began kissing me again, my excitement levels were at an all time high. I gasped a little as he entered me. He grabbed both of my shoulders from beneath me and began pumping like a Jack Rabbit on Crystal Meth. I felt as though we were fucking right atop the San Andreas Fault Line. He then began yelling "Do you feel it? Do you feel it? CAN YOU FEEL IT?" I'm not sure I said anything at all due to the fact that I was choking back laughter when I should've been choking back something else. A few seconds later he started yelling "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum! Can you feel it, baby? Tell me you can feel it!" At that point I burst out laughing while screaming "I can feel it!" A few more pumps and he was done. He collapsed on my chest and as we lay there, breathing in unison I couldn't help but think "Are you fucking serious? Did that REALLY just happen?" I rolled him off of me, tossed him his clothes and told him I had a few things to do that afternoon so he'd have to leave. We smoked a cigarette, stared at each other and said our goodbyes.

That was the last time Nick and I ever spoke.

I suppose in a way we used each other. He wanted to lose his virginity and I wanted to take it. Every time I tell this story I laugh until I cry. It's one of my favorite stories to tell, complete with hand gestures and air humping. Maybe one day, if I meet any more of you I'll tell it in person.

I suppose to some people, virginity is a very serious issue but to me it will always be a laughing matter.

You always hurt the ones you love

There I sat staring at it.

It wobbled a little back and forth throughout it's gelatinous, molded shape.
"What in the hell is that thing?" I ask him.
"What do you think it is?" he laughs.
I knew exactly what it was, my question really meant, where in the hell to you think you'll be putting that thing. I assume up your own ass.
My secret birthday present had been revealed. It was even wrapped.
But now the monster stood there, intimidating me. "No way. Nooo way."
"It's OK, it's fine. You don't have to. I thought you'd want to. It would feel good," he says in his most convincing voice.
"It would dislocate my vagina. You're a fucking weirdo."
"You're so funny." he taps the thing on my leg, "he just wants to say hi."
"Get it off me. Away from me," I toss it across the den and it hits the wall with a loud thud.
"Don't break it. It wasn't cheap, and I doubt I can return it." He picks the colossus up at stands it up on the coffee table again."It has a suction cup."
"I feel like you're trying to sell me a used car." I
"Just once. With lots of lube. If it hurts I'll stop."

Three weeks I endured sly innuendos about the massive thing. It lived in the bedside drawer, rolling around every time he reached in to grab his reading glasses. It sounded like a severed arm, sliding back and forth, hitting the dovetailed wood. It mocked me.

One day I was cleaning up the bedroom, and thought about the plastic menace and peaked in the drawer. The smell of rubber wafted up to my nose. I picked it up. It seemed heavier than before.
You could knock a man out with this, I think, while giving it a baseball bat swing.
As I followed through on my home run hit, the slippery surface of the rubber made my fingers begin to slip. As if in slow motion, the dildo left my grasp as the bedroom door opened. He stood there with a confused look on his face as the 3 pound projectile hurtled towards his face.
THUD!
I watch in horror as this porn star plaything slams my boyfriend right in the nose. Blood gushes everywhere.
"Why the fuck did you throw that at me?!"
"It slipped. I was pretending it was a baseball bat. I'm so sorry. Is it broken?"
"Yes it's fucking broken," he fires back.
"Let me look," I peer at the bloody mess. His nose was clearly bent to the left. "It's broken."
"Pop it back where it goes," he squints his eyes, bracing for adjustment.
I gingerly grasp the bridge of his nose and quickly pop it towards it's home. He screams, and then sighs with relief.
"If it hurts, I'll stop.".
And that is the story of why I walked funny for several days in May 1999.

I WONDER...

You know when you pull up to a stop sign and you and the car across from you both go, then stop, then go again because neither of you know who has the right of way…

I wonder if that’s ever happened at a glory hole.

Posted by getoffendedBone

English Motherfucker, Y U No Speak It?

A friend of mine called me this afternoon and asked if I'd like to come get a pedicure with her on her dime. Being the awesome friend that I am I told her I would love to get a pedicure with her. Being from a small town there are 3 places nearby to get your nails done. One being ran by Americans that costs a small fortune, one that you have to make an appointment a least a week in advance and the one we chose to go to. The service there isn't bad and I've been going there for years so they all know me by name. They all have their English names, Lisa, Tammy, and Dan. It's so cute to see them embrace American names so we don't have to learn to pronounce names like Pho-Shong and Tan-Mai-Ling.

I'm going to be honest, it's been a long time since anyone but me gave me a pedicure and by the look on Tammy's face when she saw my feet she thougt the same thing. She immediately began talking in Vietnamese and giggling to Lisa, which by my point of view meant that she was talking shit about me. Now Tammy can't speak any English or so they say but I know she speaks enough English to understand what I said to her next. I leaned in close to Tammy and I said "Listen honey, if you want make fun of people in Vietnamese you should do it on your own fucking time because at this very moment you're on my friend's. She's paying you to do this and I expect to give us respect while you're doing it. OK, doll?' I watched the disgust slowly spread across her face and as she went to say something in her native tongue I placed my index finger over my lips and quietly shushed her.

Tammy didn't say another word to me the entire time which was totally okay because I can never understand anything she says, mostly because it's never directed at me and it's always in Vietnamese. I know I'm not the only woman who has ever experienced this but I'm one of the few who will stand up and politely ask them to shut the fuck up. It's disrespectful and even if she weren't talking about (which obviously she was or I would've been kicked out for being a complete cunt) she have to common decency to speak English in front of her customers.

I'm just saying.
It's fucking rude.

V-Rex

The Greatest Ringtone EVER

This was originally posted at Travis's blog, ApocalypseComing.com

GREATEST RINGTONE EVER

The other night, the topic of the greatest ringtones of all time came up. I have it. I have stories because of it.

A little background, I have an unhealthy obsession with people getting sick. Nothing sexual about it so don’t even go there. For me, the sound of someone wretching or gagging is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard. Even if it’s me doing it. FYI, if you’re hanging your head over a toilet yakking up a bottle of wine or a six pack of PBR, I may help keep your hair out of the toilet, but I’ll likely be dying on the inside or, if shared the consumption, uncontrollably guffawing over your shoulder.

In 1999, Bloodhound Gang released Hooray for Boobies. On this disc was a song titled “Yummy Down on This” which included a 20 second clip of a mythical deep throated blowjob complete with gagging, wretching and chokes. For about a year, this was my ringtone. I am that fucking awesome.

Best story that goes with this occurred standing in line at the bank. I was busy explaining to the teller the requested denomination for my withdrawal when my phone started ringing. At this time, I was completely desensitized to the ring and just let it go. The middle aged woman in line behind me was not.

“Sir. Sir. Sir… can you please get your phone? Sir… sir.. gugh.. sir.. gggaghgh… sir.. could you.. ughgh… please get… rroorrrk.. phone?”

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, my ringtone actually made her gag to the point where she got pissed and left the line because I was too busy laughing my ass off to answer the damn phone before it went to voicemail. I am that fucking awesome.

Enjoy.

Peaches & Screams

After a 15 hour car ride with a fussy toddler I finally made it back to Georgia last night. I have a long list of things to get done and I started earcly this morning. Mostly because my son was up at the crack of dawn and the idea of watching "Fresh Beat Band" didn't enetertain me much. I'm staying with my parents for the time being which is a good thing and a bad thing. My step-father and I have never really gotten along and he makes it hard on me by reminding me that I'm a failure. Every single day. The tension is so thick this morning you'd need a fat man in a bikini with a jackhammer to cut through it. I've added the bikini for dramatic effects during the slow motion scene. I love Houston and eventually when I'm ready I'll make my way back. For now, I'm happy that the water here doesn't taste like ass, I get to finish school, go to the lake and get drunk with rednecks. It doesn't sound fun but most rednecks are harmless unless you touch their wives, their beer or their dog without permission. I'm glad to look out my window and see the mountains once again because I was getting tired of watching that fat Mexican chick attempt to do the P90x workout. Although it did make for some hilarious entertainment when I was drunk. There is a lesson to be learned from all of this, if you're not ready to do something wait until you are. If you don't you might end up in a bad situation like tied to a pole with ice cream on your gentials being licked cleaned by a donkey named Thunder. God, I miss that donkey.

Seriously, when it comes to you and what's best for your life don't let anyone else make your decisions. You decide your life.

I haven't told a story in a while...

Not necessarily a good story, but it’s a story…

I went to the University of Cincinnati and lived with one of my closest friends from High School. When they pick your dorm assignments for Freshman year, you are put into a lottery. By some stroke of luck we were chosen to live in one of the sophomore dorms. Then, because I must have done something right over the years, we were drawn to live in a converted lounge for 3 people. THEN, because in a previous life I must have taken a bullet for a pregnant nun or something, we were given the opportunity to buy out the 3rd roommate. Since I went to UC on scholarships, I was able to do so out of pocket. This meant that we had a huge, carpeted, air conditioned, end of the hallway room all to ourselves.

The way our dorm was setup, each floor was shaped like a large + with four suites, one in each of the hallways. Each suite contained 4 rooms of 3-4 people each and a lounge. The suites were co-ed, but each room bedroom in the suite had a locking door. We lived in the lounge. There were 16 of us total in our suite and we became a little family. I still talk to about half of those people on a yearly basis at least.

Since we lived in the lounge room, our room was sort of the hang out mecca. Also, since I have insomnia and never slept, our door stayed open. It was sort of the community room. The 16 of us would end up crashing wherever within our suite. Often there were 1 or 2 people passed out on my floor or in my bed. Like I said, one big happy family.

This was 1994. Back in 1994, you couldn’t buy laser pointers. A laser was only available on high powered military rifles and in the movies. Except we had one. It was about 18” x 4” x 6” and had a huge power adapter that plugged into the wall. It would start up and hum like the Hedron Collider. It was “borrowed” from our high school science lab… uh hum…. “borrowed”.

Across the campus was an all girl’s dorm. Believe it or not, they NEVER closed their curtains. Never.

We had a laser pointer. They had open windows. Let the games begin.

A high powered laser can shine about 1/2 a mile before degradation begins… imagine a room full of girls trying to figure out what the fuck that red dot is on the wall that keeps running from them. Like kittens. I have never laughed so hard… until.

Until we discovered the joy of chasing pizza delivery guys across the parking lot. Yes, back then, if you saw a red dot on your chest, you assumed you were about to be assassinated. I’m surprised we never gave anyone a heart attack.

One night, at about 10:00, we decided to play “Chase the Pizza guy”. However, we decided to play “Chase the Drug Dealer”. This did not go over well. At first two of the entourage dove to the ground, yelling “Sniper!” and “Five-Oh! Five-Oh!”… but the third… apparently the brains of the bunch… looked up at our window… and drew a pistol.

I think the only thing we all said was “Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck!” as we shut the window, put away the laser and ran to the room next door to see where they were going.

In the front door they came.

We were on the 4th floor which was actually the 5th floor because dorms are stupid. They had counted windows and knew exactly where to find us. We figured we’d just shut the door and go to a different room to watch the show. About 10 minutes later, three of the scariest dudes I’ve ever seen come stalking down the hallway, banging on our door.

“Open up mother fucker! You gonna shoot me mother fucker?” They didn’t sound like they got the joke.

After this went on for a while and they started in with the “We just gonna wait out here until you mother fuckers come out!” we decided it was time to get them to leave. A friend walked out and told them we left a long time ago. That they needed to leave before the Resident Advisor called campus security on them. They sat down in the hallway. “Nah, we’ll wait!”

My roommate and I came up with a plan.

I walked out and asked what room they were looking for, they told me the end room on the fifth floor.

I showed them their mistake, this was the FOURTH floor. They needed to go up one more floor. As soon as they left, we called the front desk and told them that 3 guys were on our floor waving a gun around. We called from the hall phone, then hung up. About 10 minutes later, campus security was there.

This is where the story goes bad. As the three guys are getting put into a campus security vehicle, we decided to hang out the window and get them with the laser again. In hindsight it wasn’t the smartest idea. Funny? yes. Smart? no.

Did you know that in 1994, using a high powered laser in a malicious manner was considered a misdemeanor? Me neither.

It's True What They Say

Everything really is bigger in Texas. Except, that mostly pertains to our egos as opposed to anything else. This is my second time leaving the state that I grew up in and to be honest I'm a little sad about it. Nevertheless, I got to spend times with some of my closest friends as well as make a few new ones. So this is for @msbettyblack, @Mac_Encheeze, @TonyMaintaina, and @Lotocoti. It was awesome to meet you guys and become such really good friends my life is going to be seriously boring with out you assholes. I'll be back as soon as possible.

For everyone who helped me out yesterday, a HUGE thank you goes out to each and every one of you. We'll be leaving late tonight and as long as I'm not driving, I'll be tweeting. I'll also post pictures and videos so that you guys can see our progress. Again, for most of you to be complete strangers to me, I feel lucky to know you all.

Wish me luck.

V-Rex

A Confession...

I have a confession to make. Everything I’ve said, tweeted & posted has been leading up to this single blog entry. One of you is going to read this and it will redefine everything you thought you knew about me, about yourself. If you’re not the person this post is intended for, you can either stop now or read on and enjoy the show.

The rest of this confession can be found here... http://getoffendedbone.tumblr.com

Seize the Jello

I had a great time Jello Wrestling last night. Yes that's right, I am a pro jello wrestler, for reals. It all started when the Seattle burlesque troupe that I ran sound for decided that they were going on a hiatus. Gregory Baxely is the manager of the The Urban Bombshells and with those ladies taking a break from the stage he contacted me with a new idea.

When he asked if I would want to be in a jello wrestling show I had one answer for him. Fuck YES! As a child if you gave me a million dollars the first thing that I would have done is fill a swimming pool full of jello just because I thought it would be the coolest thing to swim in. This was on my fuckin' bucket list, how could I say no?

That is how it all began. We have come a long way from our first show over a year ago. We didn't even use and padding under the pool. I was so bruised from that first match, but I was in love with Lady Jello.

There is many perks to jello wrestling but the one that stands out the most would have to be the naked ladies and getting to wrestle them. I have met so many lovely ladies and taken their clothes off in that kiddie pool I have lost count. It is a beautiful thing. I love it.

Last night was our tenth show and the last one in The JewelBox Theater. We are trying to grow and spread the fun out to a larger crowd. The owners suggested that we move on to one of their larger venues. So instead of the little crowd of 80 people, we'll be performing for a group two to three times that size. This excites me.

Out of our ten shows I have been in 8 of them. I have taken home zero championships. It's funny to me because no one has wrestled as much as I have. I have made it to the final round quite a few times, but still I have no title. Winners are decided by audience applause. My best friend in and out of the pool is Lady Sample and she has won it three times. However last night was my victory and I beat her in our first match. I made it to the final round after tossing Alaura Bee around, it was so hot we went twice over the normal time.

The next contender was the stunning Domino. She is a tall glass of water that you could drink in all day. She was a first timer too. Virgins are my favorite. The whole audience was chanting her name her name after the 6 girl tag team match. She had to go on to the final round. That is what a fuckin' hot ass trouper this girl was. During our match she had taken all of my clothes off, except of course my GetOffeneded.com panties! I would much rather see a virgin jello wrestler win the title over me. It means she has to come back and we'll get to do it again. Not sure when our next date will be, but until then I have a lot to look forward to.

I would like to thank everyone who came and cheered on theses lovely ladies and I also want to say sorry to the guy who bet ten bucks on me. Then a super big huge jello-y hug to Travis for providing my GetOfeneded.com wardrobe that I wore for most of the show. Nothing inspires self confidence like wearin' I Taste Good across your chest.

Another thank you is in order as well for letting me share here. You lost one girl, who will be missed, but gained three. I think you came out ahead.

Little Fat Lies

If that guy walked around a gym in Beverly Hills with a piece of cake, I guarantee he'd come away a man. There's too much pressure placed on people nowadays to look perfect. So much so, that people are going to ridiculous lengths just to be beautiful. No one looks inside anymore, it's all aesthetics. To be honest, I'm not a skinny woman and I'm very happy with who I am. Besides, I get to eat cake which is (let's be honest) so fucking delicious. If people were less concerned with how skinny they are or how pretty they are, life would be less stressful. I'm not superficial and the neatest thing in this world are the connections I've made with the people in my life. So, get over yourselves. You don't have to be perfect, be yourself.

Also, eat some fucking cake. Enjoy life. That's what it's for.

My Zombie Wedding Cake

I'm not engaged nor am I dating anyone but I have every detail of my zombie themed wedding planned in my head. I found this cake while I was looking for zombie pictures to download and it's the closest thing to the cake I've been picturing in my head. I fell in love with it. Most people, and by people I mean women, think I'm odd for wanting to have a zombie themed wedding. Nuts to them because during the Zombpocalypse while they're crying and screaming, I'll be blowin' heads off with a Desert Eagle .50 and deciding which prissy ass chick I want to eat for dinner. So don't judge my choice of wedding theme, just start running.

A Conversation Overheard Between My Sons...

Logan (5 yo): “Knock, Knock.”

Andrew (10 yo): “Hi Logan.”
Logan: “You’re supposed to say, ‘who’s there’.”
Andrew: “I don’t need to. I had a peephole put in.”
Logan: “…….”
Andrew: “I can see you through the peephole. No need to ask who’s there.”
Logan: “When did you put that peephole in?”
Andrew: “When you started telling Knock, Knock jokes.”
Logan: “Knock, Knock.”
Andrew: “Ok, who’s there?”
Logan: “You’re stupid.”

Originally posted at http://www.getoffendedbone.tumblr.com

Taking Over

As Ang goes on her journey, I suppose I'm sort of taking over the GetOffended blog. Not only is this a huge honor but it's just one more outlet for my comedy, sarcasm and cunty ways. I haven't quite figured out how I'm going to use this blog but I'm certain it'll be used for comedy purposes only. I have a personal blog you guys can continue reading so don't fret, I'll still be posting there as well. I wanted to say thank you to Bone for letting me write for this blog, it means a lot to me. Ok, enough of this sappy shit. It's grossing me out.

Say hello to Colleen...

I just wanted to take a minute and welcome Colleen to my account. After more than 200 submissions for my account from twitter and tumblr, I made the final decision to hand my account over to @artismyporn tonight at midnight.

Colleen is a tremendously funny lady with a sense of humor that I personally have admired since I first started on twitter. I think she'll do my account proud and I'm certain that you'll all fall madly and deeply in love with her.

I want to take a minute to give a big thank you to @getoffendedBone. When I told him I was leaving, I first wanted him to just tweet tit and vag jokes from my account. With 5,000 followers, I figured he could use it to his advantage. He refused. Then I asked him to just shut his account down and move to mine and tweet his own stuff there. With 5,000 followers, why let it go to waste. He refused. I didn't want to just twittercide... Travis refused to take over my account... we came up with a plan.

I think that plan was successful today. We (I say "we" loosely as Travis pulled the "it's all your decision" card and made me do this on my own) are handing my account over to someone I feel will do it justice and hopefully get a lot of joy out of it in return.

Take note people, when someone leaves twitter, they don't all just vanish for no reason or go down in a hate fueled rage of "fuck you and fuck you too and you're shits not funny". I'm going out with a smile, a wave and a kiss goodbye. I love you all and thank you for the laughs, the joy, the fun and the friendships.

A few thank you's before I go:
@getoffendedBone @_Vaginasaurus @Love_Gunn @pixiebelz @snowness @2ndcitysaint @ronniewk @im_tricia @theblessmess @PortlandiaGirl @idstandonthat @lastpodstanding @EasilyTempted @badadvicenurse @thethryll @poppa_steve @thebestmonkey @funsizdprincess @tamytoo2 @islander_DI @slashleen @angrylittlebee @freckless @ trialfemme @travelmonkey @redwithevny @eviloi @slyoung5 @dietredbull @ragekat @BohoPoetGirl @PlatinumShower @Cherhole @shariv67 @goldengateblond @littleharmonica @momfia @sugartits84 @billmc7 @mrfornicator @molly_kats @vagstar @UNTRESSOR @StellaRtwot @schwat @HairyJew4Life @rodney_at_large @cfishing @outofgrips @hannahantics @dumbnotdeaf @relocatable @happyhourjack @yolanda5angels @llvvzz @hoochified @filthyrichmond @tweetlebee @kervinf @wittyclitty @redicupidity @tylr1717 @Coy0teUgly @heyitslori @therealladyluck @ticking_tocking @pyrbliss @beingtheo @CroweJam @HaHaWhitePPL @lunchyprices @dannydogmouth @PaulyPeligroso @crocpunch @Paxochka @DrTwittenheimer @shelbyfero

Who wants my account?

After talking to @getoffendedBone yesterday, we decided that the coolest thing we could do is give my account away to someone who could use the account and it's 5,000+ followers to bring more smiles and laughs and help them get their voice heard. I want to pay this forward.

Here's what we're thinking. We'd like someone willing to move their account to this one, keep the laughs going and enjoy the opportunity to make people smile. The only thing we ask is the person who takes it over, from time to time, gives credit to GetOffended.com for the account as well as leaves GetOffended.com in the bio. You'd need to leave the account named "@getoffendedcom" for at least 30 days too, just to make sure people know who it is. You can change the avi immediately however.

That's it. Account is yours. Just asking for a little credit. It's the least I can do for the company that gave me a decade of joy. This is gonna be a "in good faith" transaction. No contracts or anything, just a jizz covered handshake.

If after the person who gets the account has it awhile and, for whatever reason, they are done and want to move on, we ask that they turn the account back over to GetOffended.com or do the same. Pay it forward.

I'm not sure if this has ever been done before or if it's a good idea, but god damn it, I want to try it.

If you're interested, send an email to submissions@getoffended.com. Include your twitter account name and a short note on why you want my account. We'll be looking for someone whose timeline is humorous, dirty, funny, fucked up and entertaining. We'll also be looking for someone with a follower account high enough to prove that you're serious and not gonna flake out after a month, but low enough that this is an opportunity that you deserve.

I think that's it. If you have any questions, send them to submissions@getoffended.com. One of us will check the account and reply accordingly. We're hoping to give this thing over by next weekend.

C'mon people, this is gonna be fun!

Love,
Angie

Where did Angie go?

The few people that I talk to outside of twitter know that on May 30th, I left the US for the summer traveling abroad. My tweeting has been spotty at best. I'd attempted to setup a few guest tweeters but both fell through. I've tried my best to stay up on twitter and the blog but real life has shoved it's foot in the door.

I left the US as I do every summer for a retreat from reality. This year, however, I had ulterior motives. Real Life was getting a little too much to take on a daily basis. It was time to pull up stakes and make some huge changes. I'd been in a rut for more than a decade, unable to move past a few simple truths.

Life has been good. Work has been great. I'm a lucky girl. I have friends that care about me and family that looks out for my best interests. I'm blessed in those regards, but I was still not happy.

I was tired of being single. I have a bad habit of wanting what everyone else has. This doesn't work out so well for the single girl. Especially when those you pine over are worth the pining over in the first place then, in second place, are never going to be the type of person to forget that they are the worth the pining over type person and be the shitty person I want them to be for just a second and break someone else's heart just to be the worth pining over person I know they are, for me. Yeah, time to rethink things. And breathe.

I picked up stakes, sold my house, and quit my day job to take a traveling sales position that is based in Helsinki but works out of Kowloon. I was going to continue to work with GetOffended.com but I've decided things will be better for me if I just avoid social media all together for a while. For other reasons all together.

The girl I played on twitter was not me. Sorta. She was a character I thought was interesting. I'm not the sexually flirtatious, over the top, alcoholic I portrayed. BUT, I was slowly turning into her. When your virtual life starts to dictate your real life antics, things need to change.

Change I did. As of now, I'm effectively stepping away from everything I've known and opening a new door. To all the friends I've made in real life and online, thank you for always being there. To the few people I've had the joy of meeting in real life in Chicago and Orlando, I had more fun than you'll ever know. To the few people who I let into my inner sanctum via Skype, I'm sorry my living room was always full of laundry baskets and dogs. ;) And to the few people I'm leaving behind in real life, I love you all. I'd have never made it this far without you. I mean that. You're the reason I'm as strong as I am and the reason I've finally decided to step up and put myself first. I love you now and I always will.

What does this all mean?

It means that @getoffendedcom is an open account. I'm not tweeting from it anymore. I'm only going to log in when I'm done with this letter and direct you to the blog to read it. Right now it's 4:40pm here so I'm about to go out for my last night in town before picking up and getting on another plane again tomorrow. Since the account is in the name of GetOffended.com which I've been a part of for more than a decade, I'm giving it back in hopes that they'll use it for the company or find someone else to take it over rather than just shutting it down. I'm not the twittercide type.

Don't be sad for me. I'm moving upward and onward. I may be back in time. I just need the space to make the hard choices.

I want to take this last second to thank a few people who I can't bring myself to do so face to face. You can stop reading here, this may get a little girly.

Thanks Dad, sorry I missed Father's Day. Life wouldn't be what it is without you.
Thanks Mom, sorry I missed Father's Day. Take care of Dad. (j/k, love you too)
Thanks Sis, I know we don't get along, but you're a big influence and someone I've always looked up to.
Thanks Craig for being the best boss a girl could ever have. Letting me take time away from work for play, soccer, GetOffended, traveling, alcoholic binging in Florida and traveling for the summer. WIthout you, I'd have been stuck in insurance for decades.
Thanks Annie for being my rock. And by rock, I mean the rock holding my extra bed to the ground for years. I love you more than you'll ever know and I miss you already.
Thanks Kristin for always forcing me to see on the bright side of life. Your smile I'll miss most.
Thanks Mike for being my knight in shining armor on many occasions.
Thanks Travis for taking me under your wing and helping me get to where I am. Thanks for being there when I needed you and not leaving me alone when I wanted you to. You're the friend every girl needs but hates having. You were always the one who wanted me to think for myself and put me first, I'm finally doing it. ;D
Thanks to all my closest online friends for being my go-to happy people. The love I've received through twitter over the last year has been overwhelming to say the least. It's what has given me the strength and determination to put one foot in front of the other and make the hard choices.
Thanks to GetOffended.com for giving me a voice and putting money in my pocket when I needed it most. I hate leaving, this has been the best family of friends since I can't remember when. I'll always be available to you and if you ever need anything, please let me know.

And with that, I'm out. Be nice to my people. Buy some shirts from GetOffended.com and be good to whoever takes over my account. Don't forget, I may still write in the blog here from time to time and check out Bone's Tumbler too.

And with that, the alcohol beckons.

Love always,
Angie