Hanging on the telephone

I’m sure most of you reading this had already seen my pouty face and heard all about it, but hey that’s what this blog is for...so I can rehash my own shit to, uh, myself, and you can imbibe at your leisure. Please leave me comments kthxbai!

I was recently dumped by non-communication. Un-communication? Dis-communication? Whatever is the opposite of contact. Mind you, this had only been like a month and a half of fairly steady sex with some dinner/drink/movie shit thrown in for kicks. So no big romance or anything but I did kind of like this one. And then one morning, no witty email, hilarious texts, and as the days went on, no phone call with a breathless explanation for the assholery of not calling me on my birthday. I just Never Heard From Him Again. What gives? I am so not asking for much...a phone call, email,text message, hell a myspace comment is really all it takes for dude to drag me (willingly) into bed. Are men getting so much pussy thrown at them that they can afford to turn it away without even a quick “…oh sorry, it’s not me it’s you” to ensure they can crawl back between the sheets for future bonedowns? With this one I feel like I set the "get into my pants" bar at retard olympic** height and homeboy couldn't even make the crippled leap to reach my tits. (Metaphorically speaking, because of course he was all OVER those shits)

The worst thing is...I still really want to sleep with him of course. The sex was fantastic. Kind of adventurous, with a little kink and a tremendous amount of chemistry. To fuck him again would basically reward his crap-tastic behavior with pussy. So I’m pretty decided against it. Um…til I’m drunk. At least I can blog about it? And, uh, get laid which I haven’t in almost three weeks and I feel like a chaste slut.

**retard olympics is an awesome blog you should check out btw.

That magic moment...

...No, not the one where you first realize you’re going to eff some dude.That's a magic moment, but not the one I'm talking about right now. What I mean is when you are making out with some dude, you, like, KNOW you're gunna fuck him…and not because you're drunk, or because you're horny and he'll do…but because you know he's a good kisser and you can TELL he's good with his hands and you're pretty sure he's going to give some sweet ass head so you're already going to look forward to this...but then you cop a feel, covertly glance at his bathing suit area, or get bonerspooned while he's reaching around to grab a tit or two...and it's like...fuck this guy is HUNG. Then you just know an indulgent night is ahead of you.

Part of it is that given more ween to work with, you can def get in some deeper spots in missionary position if you're feeling lazy and/or uncreative. But you can also experiment with some other crazy/awesome positions that an extra inch or two make possible. Some dicks just have more options**.

I'm assuming no dudes are even reading this and needing reassurance and I'm sure my ladies will second that size isn't the most important factor. But all things being equal it sure is nice if that sweet head giving, sort of kinky, breathtaking kisser happens to have some high quality junk to bang with. You feel me?

**Exempting those ridic giant dicks that are literally like a baby's arm. Those things effing HURT and I feel kind of bad for dudes packing that kind of heat. Yikes.


Make It (bag)

Hermes website has this really fun "make your own Kelly bag" pattern**. Click here to get it:


Guess you guys know what shape my Christmas cards are going to be folded into this year. Oh, and if anyone can print this out for me on orange card stock holla back.

**sized to fit a single piece of paper.


High vs. Lo...

...Not to be confused with LiLo, or even just (team) Lo...I'm talking (blogging) about shoes. Kitten heels are on my list of useless things. They combine all the hassle of a heel with none of the sex appeal. So I go flat or I go high. Typically, I have no use for heels less than 3", and I prefer the full 4". I'm not sure if it's because I'm short, have high arches, or just like looking all sexypants all the time...But I bought these insanely sexyified Sergio Rossi pumps this weekend. They are hella fresh black eelskin and so fucking hot. Now I just need dates to wear them on. So I can take them off, natch.


set up?

Does anyone think it's a good idea for Bootsie to set me up with a "hip hop guy"? I guess I can blog about it after...


put it in my mouth

putitinmymouth was taken already (by a really boring blog but she got there first so whatever), and this weekend Ritz gave me the software. So a drunken consensus was made to call this blog D-Cupcake. Party in my mouth was a close second.