Skanky Club Sex

As you well know, I recently took a grad trip/spring break to Vegas, the motherland for badass beautiful ladies like myself.

We DROVE down there, which was fun but also took 20 hours and I wanted to die.
The main problem we faced was that this is approximately what the drive looked like:

Beautiful, endless, shrub desert of boringness and mostly in the dark, so even worse.
20 hours later, and LOTS of pee breaks, we arrived.
VICTORY.
We stayed in the Luxor:

 

And that was delightful. We were right behind the sphynx!

So here is the main point of the post: one night we went to the club inside the Luxor, LAX.
It was a lot of fun, because, pro-tip, as a lady in Vegas you don't need to pay cover to get in to clubs and you often don't have to pay for drinks. If you wander around during the day bouncer/club promoter guys will approach you and offer you these wrist band things that get you in ahead of the line and for free and usually come with a "all you can drink vodka drinks until midnight or 1" deal.

Awesome, right?
There we are, on the dance floor, bobbing along to Ke$ha, and we glance up.
Now, in LAX, there is a balcony that hangs halfway over the dance floor so that people who pay a lot of money can dance up there above all us cheap plebeians.

Above us we see two people dancing. Sure, nothing normal about that...oh wait...her dress is hiked up above her hips. Maybe one of her friends should tell her, she probably doesn't know...oh wait...the dude she is dancing with is doing that intentionally and she is obviously in to it.
Now he is dipping a little too low for just normal grinding...
Now she is putting her leg up on to part of the railing and...
Wait...
Did she just reach between her legs to adjust something...
Is...
Are they...
MOTHER OF GOD

Yes, indeed, they are having sex.

She is waving at the crowd as we all stare up in horror and shock, and keeps reaching down to push "it" back in and OH  MY GOD THEY ARE NOT DOING IT AT AN ANGLE THAT WOULD WORK FOR VAGINAL INTERCOURSE
THERE IS BUTT SEX OCCURRING DIRECTLY ABOVE US

Abort mission.
Abort Vegas.
What the what the what?

I am not exaggerating. Butt sex. Balcony. Over a dance floor. Waving. Skanky.

How do you do that?
What the hell is wrong with your friends that they said, "Oh, Jessica is doing it with a dude up against the balcony right now, rock on."
How does that reflect on you? Or your parents?
I understand making out and heavy petting and even bathroom sex, but...that's a real stretch.

Needless to say it was the highlight/low light of the trip.


Moral of the story: At least you won't have to worry about getting pregnant?

Call me Mary, B.A.

Today is the day I graduate from college. As you read (if you are reading it on Saturday the 17th of March 2012 between the hours of 10am and 11.30am PST) I am sitting in my commencement ceremony about to receive my Bachelor's degree.
Not even bachelor, like, single guy, but bachelor like...college.

So I thought I'd take this opportunity to recap my college experience:

Classes, drinking, bros, Italy, blogs, Mexico, more drinking, pizza, roadtrips, papers, being dorky in the library, sandwiches, Vegas.

Easy.


College has been pretty great, and I think everyone can agree that it is a great time. It's also an opportunity to mature and figure out, hopefully, where you're headed in life. Not everyone goes to school for what they end up doing, and no everyone ends up doing what they went to school for.

I think what's most important is that you have a goal or dream or destination, and you put yourself in line to get there.


Also important, for everyone to note, is that today is also St. Patrick's Day.


So, HAPPY ST. PADDY'S DAY, YA WEE LITTLE HARLOTS!


I hope you do like I do: drink a little too much, see some good friends, and feel like a god damn winner.


Moral of the story: I'm an adult now...so does that mean I have to wear pants?

I'm Not Your Babe, Darling

Pet names are a corner stone of public couple interactions. Some of them are very cute, and some of them are really dumb and annoying.

I found this list which somehow contains 101 "fun, romantic" pet names for your boyf/girlf.

It also happens to contain about 93 stupid and cliched pet names too.

We're going to discuss my least favorite and preferred pet names.

So my list of least favorite pet names starts with

"Sugar Daddy/Sugar Momma" - This just seems to reduce your relationship to materialism and money. Perhaps it is just because I associate these pet names with gold diggers and cougar hunters, and people who are in relationships solely to get gifts and perks out of it. Shallow.

"Baby/Babe" - I know these are some of the most common pet names, but they just aren't my favorite. Probably because, with most couples, you always hear "Oh babe, I love you babe, you're the best babe, oh baby!" Boring sauce. Also, do you want to associate the person you're boning with this?

 

I thought not.

"Object of my affection" - I think that calling your significant other an object isn't the best idea. Maybe. Why not call them...literally anything else?

I obviously don't disagree with anyone's right to call their bonage buddy whatever they want, some people prefer Baby or Stud Muffin or things I find stupid. That's okay. But I know that there are a lot of people preparing to woo me, and they should just know, ahead of time, what to call me and what not to call me.

I tend to prefer pet names like "Darling," or "Sweetheart," or "Honey." I appreciate sweet themed things, because you are literally "sweet" on someone, so calling them "honey" or "sugar" or whatever and that is cute to me. Also, "Darling" sounds classy and adorable.

Also acceptable are marine life themed pet names!

If you are dating a woman, I suggest
Hagfish
Sperm whale
Gulper Eel
Angel Fish
Octopussy


For a man I might recommend
Humpback
MAN-ta Ray
Kraken/Cthulu
Sperm whale (it's unisex, that's U 'n' I sex!)
Barri-cute-a

Moral of the story: pet names are not just for pets.

Your First Line of Defense

There are a lot of things I'm good, well, there are a few things I'm good at, okay, there is at least one thing I am good at.

That thing is called "bitch face."

Bitch Face is when your face makes you seem like you're a bitch, but not just that, it makes the opposite sex not want to approach you in any way at all ever.

You don't just seem like a bitch, because some dudes are in to that, no, you're giving off this vibe like "If you talk to me I will introduce your face to my fist, and they will not get along well."

It is a well documented thing, and here are some examples:

Posh goes more for the "What the fuck are you doing, bitch?" Bitch Face. This one is most useful if you are already being approached by a guy or talked to and you don't want to find the words to make him go away.

This girl just has constant Bitch Face on this show, and maybe in real life too, and this is a great example of it. Straight mouth, no hint of a smile, tense jaw, and very slightly furrowed brow to imply that their very presence on this earth is an unending nuisance to you.

Selma's is showing us the classes drunk Bitch Face. You're a little frazzled at the end of the night and you end up just staring blankly and kind of sneering at the person. Then you leave.

Bitch Face can come about in one of several ways; some people are born with it, and their neutral face is bitchy looking. Where some people always smile or always look sad, some people just look bitchy. Some people can acquired the Bitch Face through years of practice, if they're lucky and study under a master. Some people get that way when they've been drinking, or under special circumstances, but it isn't their natural face.

Bitch Face has a lot of practical uses too: it helps keep gross bar fly boys at bay, it helps you get across campus quickly, it helps to keep people from asking you for help all the stupid time, it means you get left alone.

It can also be a curse since that means no one really wants to approach you. So when you do see a guy you want to have hit on you, pull out your best smile.

 Then you'll really dazzle them.

It can happen though, that if you have Bitch Face you end up standing around while your friends get hit on or danced with, and you just get annoyed and your Bitch Face gets more dramatic so people are even less inclined to approach you. Vicious cycle, guys.

Moral of the story: Bitch Face works...maybe too much.

Holiday Hello

Happy Valentine's Day, You Beautiful People!

Saint LovesALot

You guys need to know something.
I never planned on admitting this to the world because it seems to be a magnet for unending shit, but that's okay.
I am ready.
I am willing.


I love Valentine's Day.

Love it.

I have also, never had a Valentine, so don't assume it is that.
Maybe I just always root for the underdog, or maybe I just appreciate an excuse to make cards for people, but I've always enjoyed this much-scorned holiday.

Potentially, it is also because I have a long standing love for big romantic gestures.
Most people are never on the receiving end of them, which is sad but I know that it is how the world works.
I don't necessarily want to have one directed at me, okay, I do, but only because I want to react like Lucille Ostero in Arrested Development and say "How Grand! How terribly grand!" when something happens.
I just enjoy watching things like that happen. It is sweet and fun, and reaffirms my faith in love and junk.
I've never seen any thing like that in real life, but that is okay. The closest I came was when I guy proposed in the Up&Up in October. I've told you about my favorite bar before, and I described it as "NOT the kind of bar you hit on people at. It's all booths and tables and full of groups of friends. It's like the Cheers bar but better because no one is sad and we're all a lot younger." So we're sitting there and all of the sudden, across the way in a big booth is a dude on his knees in front of a girl and she says yes. I like to think that maybe that is where they went on their first date or had their first kiss, but also maybe not. I think they were also in the middle of a friend's birthday party, so...way to steal her thunder, guys.
But anyways, big romantic gestures are rare but fun, and I like them and any excuse for them.

St. Valentine's Day is also a great holiday for me because I get to make cards.

This year I only made about 38, so it is way down from some years in high school when it was closer to 80. They're all hand made and individual and no two are alike and I love doing it. I know that not many people do that anymore, since it hasn't been required since, like, 5th grade, but I really like doing it. I make cards for Christmas and birthdays too, obviously, but Valentine's is my favorite.
It is easy for people to get grumpy and lonely on this day dedicated to illegal marriages, so getting a card always appreciated.

Also it as an opportunity to show off how witty I am.



















And I am pretty witty.

As you can see.



But that's not the point.

It is about other people, and that is awesome.


Moral of the story: I love Valentine's Day, obviously.

Vegas Is My Dreamworld

In March I am graduating college, and as a treat to myself and the world I am going to Las Vegas for 3 days and 4 nights. As part of this trip, I am, of course, encouraging Alison to make as many or more bad decisions than anyone else. Part of this requires me to come up with theorems to support my incredible genius.

I'm going to share them with you, so you can apply them to your future trips.

We begin with the Puke Point Proposal (PPP).
So you start out sober, as seen on this image which I made:

 

Then you drink X drinks to hit your Puke Point, and the first time, PP1, is easily conquered. You have to push past the Puke Point, and continue drinking so that your night can keep getting awesomer. With each rotation of the drunk circle, the number of drinks between Puke Points is decreased by half. So, between PP1 and PP2, you can only have half of X number of drinks you had to hit PP1. Get it? 

So Alison drinks 10 drinks to go from sober to vomiting. Then she conquers PP1 and can have 5 more drinks before hitting PP2. This goes on and on and on until you hit critical capacity/alcohol poisoning.

Next!

According to my extremely accurate math, Alison has to drink 4.6 drinks per hour while in Vegas. Easy!

LAST, and my favorite is:

So the math is pretty complicated but it ends up being about 20 dudes for Alison's NoPYHTBWIV number. I doubt you guys would quite understand it, because it was over Alison's head too. Don't worry, I'm smart.
A good rule of thumb is that if the number is under 15, you're doing something wrong. Check the numbers!

I highly suggest you apply these explanations, sequences and proposals to your own life and Vegas trips. They will only serve you well, as they will serve me and Alison.

Moral of the story: Vegas is the place your liver goes to die.