Dawn of the iPhone 5

Anyone who knows me, knows this about me… but I’ve yet to write about it.  I have a problem… with iPhones. I love them, I live for them, they complete me and bring me so much happiness.  It’s my best friend. I’m fucking garbage though and don’t appreciate them or treat them right. I’m an iPhone Destroyer.

I’ve been hooked since I tried the first generation. That heavy, silver back, 8gig, piece of the future in my hands, I loved it so much right from the beginning. The original iPhone lasted me about 2 years. It was durable, nothing wrong with it just when the 3GS came out around my 21st Birthday what better gift from a sober boyfriend. Sooo much better than a shitty Rum-Bucket. Thank god. It was such an improvement from the 1st gen. Unfortunately, even without the Rum-bucket, destruction began. And within a year, I had destroyed an iPhone for the first time. Typical… was fucked up, I won’t get into specifics. But since I am QUEEN of Tightest Pants ever, and tight pants always have crappy small pockets that fit nothing expect condoms… if your classy.  Can’t say I am all the time. I just love the feeling of my iPhone right there in my back pocket, its comforting. I like my iPhones unprotected as well, usually without a case or just cute looking one that provides no protection.  So, I go to take a piss, I pull my pants down and it propels into the toilet.  I immediately fish it out… yes with my hand you fucking prude. I’ve come into contact with way worse than toilet water. The screen read, “This Accessory Is Not Compatible With The iPhone.” Good to know. I tried turning it on and off and pressing the home button crazily in panic. Not a good idea, it was fucked. My ex gave me his old 3G, and I used that until I water damaged it as well. Also in a toilet, similar situation. And by that time… months later, the 3GS had obviously dried out.  So I started using that one again. Back to new… sort of.  The rice trick. It works. Every iPhone user needs to know what to do in a water damage situation. Put it directly in UNCOOKED (duh) rice, don’t press anything and let the battery die on its own.  Leave it for a few days, uncovered if you can. The 2nd one, I water damaged, the 3G came back to life using that method as well, but I didn’t need it cause IPHONE 4 CAME OUT! Whaaaaat!!

It was so much greater than the ones before. It was amazing, FaceTime was is the future in my hands, all over again.  I’ve used it a total of twice in my life… but that’s beside the point. First day, I got a big deep gash in the screen from my keys.  I’m such an ass, hardly anyone had it yet and mine was already cut up.   Also within 48hrs of getting brand new iPhone 4, I lost it in the park.  Luckily, I was a creep sitting in a dark shadowy spot, so it was still there when I went back.

I am a constant dropper.  I drop my phone continuously cause I’m always fucking touching it.  50% of my entire life is spent swinging my phone around, dropping it, checking it, losing it, or using apps. 45% is spent freaking out-looking for it. And 5% is spent taking dumps.  Thats me- simplified, sucks that you read all this and thats what it comes down to… I’m an iPhone addict and a shit-machine. So less than a year into my iPhone 4 the lock button randomly broke. Not my fault that time. I lived a few blocks from the 5th Ave Apple Store, it happened around 2am, and within an hour I was walking back home with a brand new one. Incredible.  I decided to keep the ugly clear cover thats on it when you buy it, since last time it got scratched right away.

My 2nd iPhone 4 came into my life when I was bar tending. There I am again, with tight pants with their tight shitty pockets. And my phone goes missing, I was panicking for hours but it was so busy and we were so understaffed I had to keep working and couldn’t look for it.  I was hung over by this point, it was a 14hr Sunday shift, I was wasted at brunch and was progressively worse by dinner.. finally the bar back was taking our garbage and I was like “nooo, please, you can’t!” And so he’s like “UM call it?” and he held the can and it vibrated.  So i retrieved it, with my hands. Bare. Because apparently thats the underlying theme here.  But it was disgusting bar mess, sitting in undrank drinks, melted ice, napkins with peoples spit, squeezed garnishes, basically anything that you can imagine getting thrown away at a bar. And my phone sitting in it for 3+ hours. Since it was a restaurant, as well I got a container of rice right away. And within a few days, back to new! It lasted me almost another year… until on sept 11th….. A devastating day.

On the 10 yr anniversary of Sept 11th was also my friends  baby shower… but only because it was cancelled from the “hurricane….” Irene, I think… right? What an awful name for a hurricane, no wonder it was so shitty.  In the years to come, with all these new-age names,  I’m afraid of the names of hurricanes that will come. “Azealia,” “Zuly,” “Tanisha,” all these exotic and black names, they are gonna sound really bad-ass and probably tear shit up, like El Nino. Anyway, I fucking shit faced at the baby shower and did my signature move of going to pee and pulling my pants down with it in my back pocket. And lost another.  It was basically my THING. Like some people have good one liners, I was just damaging iPhones left and right cause… shit what else am I gonna stress about… not like I didn’t go through huge life changes, went through a break up, moved several times, and started pursing a career in film in that time. I guess I liked this problem.  But this time, after Sept 11th it would not recover, it was devastating.  I did not forget.  I learned a lesson that day, they won’t always make it.  Within a few days the 4S came out, and I decided to pass. Best iPhone yet, I don’t doubt it… but I needed to punish myself. I can’t keep up this behavior any longer.  Adding another to my iPhone graveyard, a perfectly healthy looking phone on the outside but inside was ruined.

I had to switch back to my old beat up 3GS, The home button was a still a little stuck but worked, and I have been using that for a year up until a couple weeks ago.  I had a really busy day, I was walking in a fashion show and I was on a bus, this old chinese lady with a mohawk was posing for pics for me. I snapped a few shots of her to instagram later and I hit current location to see how far until I had to get off the bus. And it went into some vicious loop. Pinwheeling… then would shut off, come back on, The Apple would sit there, then it started over again. It was so hot, I let it kill itself… then charged it during hair and make-up but I knew… it was the end, it died right in my arms.

Luckily, yet again in this story…. that old shitty 3G had been waiting for me. Knowing I’d come back.  And here I am, using a 3G which is barely compatible any apps. It’s so slow that I’m actually afraid to use it for anything aside from texting. It’s from before multiple apps running at the same time existed… pre-flash, and not compatible with new software, which means, I can’t get any of my contacts from iCloud or anything.  It was totally wiped out and I’m starting from scratch, I have like 20 phone numbers, hardly any apps cuz the battery life is awful. Just super basic, counting down the days. I lost all my notes, and writings which made me sick but I deserved it… what type of writer am I, I’ve got 2 unfinished scripts and an iPhone full of notes. I still have 2 unfinished scripts… but I do not have an iPhone full of notes… no, This fucking sucks still.

Now in the dawn of the iPhone 5, I look back and there’s only 1 iPhone I didn’t destroy… and its the first one. I do think they have gotten less durable each generation but thats irrelevant by this level of neglect. Also, its the only one I’ve paid for with my own money.  So thats the first plan, I’m paying for this one… well, not that I have a choice. But I’m working my ass off for it, so I’ll appreciate it more. Or so I hope…  But what I think will really make me change is the punishment of not having all the features that I long for.  I’ve never even used Siri. Its sad, I am not experience iPhones to any potential. I’m living in the past…! I can’t do this any longer.  I need to move forward. And here I am… still…  They said Sept 12th is the pre-order date… and today on September 11th, I celebrate my patriotism by reloading the apple home page obsessively. Waiting….

Writing this to kill time. Refresh. Nothing still.

Ok, I’ll agree… Apple is a Cult. But so is Alcoholics Anonymous, its not like all cults are bad. Plus, it beats using PC.

Clothes, Music Videos and Dead People

I lost my job in the beginning of August. Got screwed out 2 weeks pay that they owed me, but when you work in Medical Marijuana you can’t be genuinely surprised when that happens. Its not a lot of money but its not without working quick I won’t be able to pay my rent or eat, or do any other basic necessity. Ive lost a lot of weight this month, mostly getting around without a car and living on Subway. Whose sandwiches keep me alive. Finding a job in LA was hard enough, but I know how to hustle, I always find something to do. Must be my gypsy blood. I’ve done a bunch of small modeling gigs that pay almost nothing, but how can I say no to it when I have rent to pay. I was handing out flyers, spray tan demo model, ghost writing porn… which as usual with anything sexual, I went to too far and fucked it up. The first scene I wrote needed to be Older Women, Younger Man, Strangers, and the Location is a House. So I came up with, A women is Skyping with her husband who is away on business. She drinking wine and dressed sexy, trying to talk dirty to him. But he’s unreceptive and hangs up on her for a business call. She downs the rest of her glass and there is a knock at her door. Its a man dressed in black slacks and a white collar and says “Hi ma’am, I’d like to talk to you about your faith today.” She says, “I don’t even know what I believe anymore.” So she lets him, blows him, which leads to wild sex that they both enjoy and feel bad about. Then I wrote an implied incest scene and they fired me. Which is completely bullshit because incest videos are the biggest porn on the internet. I have a friend who owns a huge porn site and the only person who could beat her was a brother-sister hand-job site. Trust me… I know, what Im talking about. Their loss, and plus, it wasn’t even real incest it was a guy with his sister’s BEST FRIEND and while they only TALK about the sister. Jeez.

Now I got a steady job in a store in the Fashion District… which to me, is definitely not what I expected of a fashion district. I would think 5th Avenue, Bergdoff… this is like Bergenline Avenue in North Bergen, NJ. But I can work as many days as I want to work, so its awesome and I get tons of cheap clothes for free. Then I head straight over to my night job. 10am-4pm then 5pm-midnight, 7 days a week. How I went from no job to 2, means that I’ll probably finally get a bar tending job in LA. It works, I go downtown in the day then back to Hollywood at night I only have to walk a few blocks. Because finding a job, is only easy when you already have one.

In my broke and hungry delirium, I started making jean shorts and they came out really awesome, everyone kept saying I should sell them. And within the past 3 weeks I made a collection and opened an Etsy store. In which, I needed a photoshoot to open a shop. I just made the clothes myself, modeled them, set up for my friend Brian Lynch (www.lynch455.com) to shoot them. But the only time that could work was Aug26th when I’m directing my friend, Holli’s music video, where he was coming to shoot anyway.

This music video up until this point had been a disaster nothing had come through, everyone had cancelled, we replaced them, the replacements bailed,and the replacement’s replacement (Bad Girls Club reference, heeeyyyyy) even cancelled on us. I needed to do it though, I wanted to cancel at points for sure but I’d feel like shit. Its a music video, if I can’t pull it together, theres a problem Ms Filmmaker. Plus, when I want to do something, I am sort of unstoppable. Thats how I keep ending up in these situations.

So after a long night at Piano Bar with Samantha and friends… Brian and I came back to my place. I made a bed for him using the comfort of my floor. Unfortunately quite close to the fridge which sounds like a blender. Since I needed him early, I told him he could sleep over even though he’s has a shitty loud snore. I was like, I guess you could sleep on my bed with me as long as you don’t touch me. Then the next day I texted like… yea, sorry you have to sleep on the floor. I felt like that would be rude, but then I realized I’ve done worse. (Which IS true) Haha, he wasn’t surprised and said he expected it and knew better. Within 3- 5 seconds, I was completely knocked out.

Woke up about 6am, from what I believe was a anxiety attack in my sleep. I haven’t really ever had a real panic attack, but that definitely felt like the real thing. I was too overwhelmed to sleep. I was going back and forth to the bathroom, trying to get water, relax… didn’t help that I was shitfaced only 3 hours before. Brian moved then he was doomed, I just started talking, blabbering all my concerns of the day… I was nervous about the video.. no dancers. No idea who will show. Will Holli be prepared, what will happen if people don’t show up? Plus, I was supposed to finish the final touches on the clothes but got drunk instead. Felt guilty. I’m gonna look like shit in the pics… A Shower was good, I tricked myself into believing a phony pep talk I gave myself. “Ok, you better leave the bullshit in here. Wash it all away! Cuz when you come out the bathroom you have way too much to do. Do u want to ruin everything u work for?” And I did, I cooled down. We shot all the clothes, then shot them again as a fall look. All within like 30mins I was pumped. They came out amazing, btw… and even Cuddles, my friend who is a cat popped in.

Here’s the clothes and store:

www.etsy.com/shop/OneOfAKindFashion

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Me and Cuddles, click pic to see whole collection. Shown is my Hand Drawn Aztec Style High Waisted Short

We grabbed food for the shoot, got everything prepared then we arrive to Holli’s where we will be shooting in a large commercial space in her building. We get there, and the door is locked. The door is never locked… yet this time, it is. OF COURSE IT IS. The landlord was working on getting it opened up but it was 1:30pm and people would be arriving at 2. Then my crazy adrenaline kicks in. I’m like fuck this we are breaking in. There’s a glass door in the front and we are trying to break in using a hanger. This is right out in the open in Downtown LA so we keep looking for cops… we were having luck but not enough to get it open. And I forgot to mention that it was actually a church. So we are sitting on the ground trying to pick the lock of a vacant church. IN MY DEFENSE, it was one of those spanish churches that they just set up in old convenience stores and basements and shit. So not like it was a pretty catholic one or anything. But we can’t get in, and we are running out of time and options. As Brian was trying to break in still, I had to stand near by since he’s half mexican, and not Irish enough to not get arrested if he was caught. I was getting really upset though. I turned around and started sniffling, I said “I’m going to cry.” and he couldn’t believe it. “What do you mean ur gonna cry??” — “I am…” and I just held it.

We go inside and try to see if theres a way to get to the building from the roof but there wasn’t. I am not going to let this happen. Everything up until this point has been trying to get me to not make this video, and I have been fighting the universe on it in every way. Finally someone mentions that if I go into the ceiling that we share the same building structure as the place we are shooting, and I could climb through the wall and go next door that way. Then find and opening and jump down. Easier said than done but worth a try.

I get Brian and Matt, I stand one foot on each of their shoulders. Then have them both step on a chair so I could get into the ceiling. I stabbed myself with a rusty nail on the way in, once inside, fuck that was scary. Kept thinking of stir of echo’s the girl being buried alive in the wall. Mostly the heat and lack of air was freaking me out… My adrenaline was pumping so I just started pouring sweat, and slid through a space so narrow that I needed to take my phone out of my back pocket in order to squeeze through. Then I heard Brian and Matt start small talking, I yelled at them from inside the wall that they need to stop chit-chatting n listen to whether I die or not. I actually got past the beam into the building next door. It was so hot and small, and just no air at all. I looked down and was walking on top of ceiling lights, I was afraid I was gonna fall through. I looked around for an opening, but I couldn’t find one. It wasn’t worth it. I climbed back, just thinking this is not worth it. Even if u find it, how can u jump down? I’m gonna mess up my knee or ankle. So I climbed back and as I am about to come down my Assistant Director, Tawan is calling me. So I’m like open the door and let him in. He came in and sees only my long skinny legs hanging out of the ceiling. The 3 of them lowered me down. And I didn’t know what to do, do I cancel?

Ater speaking to Tawan, who I knew would be my calm guy, which is why he was my AD. He said stick to the plan and shoot it in the apt. So we prepare to do it, and within that time finally got a hold of someone to unlock the door. So we were able to shoot in the original location. We had to change things and cut back on 2 of the main ideas but we managed and it was great. Holli was awesome, I was so proud of her performance. The extras and people that came were a very odd mix of people who probably would have never met or hung out with each other. I told everyone to dress as they would if they were going out to a party. Everyone parties different, so their outfits were so mixed, we had a black krumper in an argyle vest, a chick with a mohawk and horn implants in her head, a japanese guy in a white tee, etc etc. Which worked out perfectly, I loved the mix of people and style, everyone was awesome. The crew, Holli, all the actors and dancers. It worked out great and was so much fun. By midnight, Brian and I packed up the car and were heading back to Hollywood. Before we drove off he said, “I thought you were really gonna cry before.” Haha, I barked back at him, “I was!” He said “I’m glad you didn’t that would have been like seeing a statue bleed”

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Back at my place, we drank a few beers, went on the roof and looked at the clothing line pics and the footage. I was so grateful to have him there for the whole process, I wouldn’t have been able to handle it all alone. Plus, I wouldn’t have been able to take such awesome pics. Around 3am, there was a meow at the door, Brian was like omg cuddles and opened it. Because no one believes me that Cuddles is cuddly! When Sam saw it she laughed because no Cuddles initially doesn’t look cuddly. Others have said it looks like a mean cat. But at the door was Birthday, he’s so needy. That cat met Holli and followed her into my place. Birthday bolted in, trying to hang. Brian’s like u know this cat? I’m like, yea. So he let’s him’s go and birthday runs in I’m like, No! But dont let him in. It was like an old beatnik bar, or more likely a hipster bar that’s beatnik inspired. We planned on waking up early to shoot my episode of cribs and do a shoot for a magazine he works with… 9:30am alarm goes off. He decides not to wake up and gets a parking ticket.

At 10:30, I’m woken up by horrific screaming. A woman screaming, Omg Omg Omg. But the true horror in her voice made my stomach drop. I sit up and look over at Brian on the floor. And say “Uh oH, doesn’t sound good.” Then lay my head back down… within, a few seconds she starts screaming again and says “Omg he’s tell me he isn’t dead.” Her voice went through me, she was so scared. I jumped up and ran out the apt, in the hallway was the woman freaking out. And a british guy came out of the apt and said “He’s dead.” And she goes ballistic, I start pounding on my door for Brian to open it and call 911. In that time the British guy is already on the phone saying the body is completely cold. This was the neighbor diagonal to me. I walk over and she is freaking out. I hug her and she just sobs all over me. Once again, really didn’t help I got shit faced again the night before. A scary metal head looking guy appears, and goes into the apt. Like he’s drawn to death, like he wants to see the body! He comes out and says he’s dead, then goes back in and says there is an empty bottle. He seemed fascinated. Then tells us he found his father who killed himself when he was a kid. Jeez, freaking morbid. Like this isn’t enough already, dude. The girl is screaming she never saw a dead body before and how he was her friend, then we hear the sirens already. So I tell her to come into my apt and wait, and she’s on my floor freaking out. Brian is copping feels… haha, just kidding. They were having a serious hug session though. Luckily he breaks free and remembers to hide all of my paraphernalia within in seconds before a cops just invites himself into my apt. I thought they were like vampires, you need to invite them in. Apparently if your door is open in California they can just enter. Cuddles, my friend-the cat, came by too to check it out. Prob right about Cuddles not showing up at the most Cuddly times. The cop questions her, and we over hear that he was a comedian and how he suffered from erectile dysfunction… what else is new. Don’t they all…

Anyway, I eventually tell her to call a friend because I have to go to work. And when I came back home around 9pm she was in the lobby telling people the story. And she keeps looking at me like who the fuck am I and why am I in her conversation. I butt in, and she’s like “oh you were there?” Which horrified me more than it all.. that she was in such shock that she totally forgot meeting me or coming into my apt or anything. She literally lost like 2hrs of her life. I’m not offended, and not like I wanted to be friends with the recently traumatized girl, so I have no complaints… but it was just strangely real. I live in a building that is a Hollywood Historic Landmark, so I just wonder how many people died here. Probably so many. The day before I was having a conversation with my new boss about how most people see their first dead body when they come to LA. Its just that type of place. I didn’t see him, I did see his feet on the floor when they opened the door. But it was sadder to see his guitar and furniture. Everyday I looked at his welcome mat, thinking who lived there with a braided welcome mar. Now I look at the coroners seal on his door. And soon, I look at a new welcome mat and smile at the person who lives in the dead guys apt.

Since then, I’ve been working 2 jobs a day everyday for the last 6 days. So I’m burnt the fuck out but I love that feeling. Tomorrow I have off from my day job for the holiday. Oh and Ive been so busy, I forgot that I turned 24 yrs old this month. Was a cool birthday, Holli’s friend Taryn was performing at an event so that was lots of fun. I think back, 10 years ago… wow time has passed. 10 years ago, I was 14 and got robbed trying to buy crack. It was devine intervention. My friends and I saved up money for it, then some fat chick who was a Blood, robbed us. From there, we changed our mind on the crack and bought some Cisco to drink. Yes, we were poor and needed some way to enjoy our Cradle of Filth concert!! oh 2002, what a year.

And I have a test shoot with American Apparel this week, WISH ME LUCK!

Dance, Dance, Dance?

I’ve never been a dancer. Never danced at family parties growing up, even when I went to dance classes, I only took acrobatics. I never felt like doing it.

There’s a guy that comes into my job, he’s blonde, blue eyes, about 6’3, with a HUGE crooked bulge in his pants. By pants, I mean, his bright red velvet bell bottoms that are tied around the knee for extra flare. They’re absurd, but the part that’s even crazier is his SHIRT… its red, yellow, and orange, gold glitter flames up the back, a velvet Chinese symbol on the front, and velvet dragons on the sleeves. Insane part is, I HAD THAT SHIRT. I bought it especially for my first ever school dance. I thought it was the coolest ever, but seeing it today was humiliating. Not just cause I have taste like a big dicked cross-dresser (not surprising) but that was the day I found out that I couldn’t dance.

It’s bad when the first time you try to dance is at a School Dance.

The really bad part, however, was what I was doing with my arms. As I danced, I was putting them up into the air, like straight… upward and I dunno, trying to be sexy with them or something. Horrendous. I was also like 8inches taller than the girls in my class, so these arms were up there and visible to everyone alright. Snapping fingers to switch it up, ugh. It was wretched and I found that out the following Monday in school, a few girls had mastered my technique. So humiliating. I was the only white girl, so it happens everyone else is Spanish and came out of the womb with their salsa steps ready. I knew my best friend was humiliated for me when I talked to her about it. I was trying to copy her moves, I didn’t have any. But she told me that my feet weren’t bad, just my arms were horrible. Wtf are you supposed to do with your arms when your dancing anyway!

So basically, I didn’t dance except for extreme measures, mostly involving Ecstasy. In my ecstasy days, there was definitely some nights nothing could stop me from dancing. One of my ex’s of those days always swore I had moves but then I never danced in front of him again. I’m too scared to do E ever again, but I have learned recently to be comfortable dancing. Cause seriously, who gives a fuck, I want to have fun. And more importantly, in LA most ppl are white, so when I went to a club here, I was delighted by all the horrible moves. Those emotional wounds started to heal right up as I saw these girl shaking their flat asses and dropping low. I realized, if I would have grown up in Middle America, I would have been the fucking Dancing Queen. If the song was about me at 17, it would have been called “Smoking dust and having sex with Puerto Rican drug dealers.” And abba would not have sang it. It’s more of a Carpenters type of song. Hey, life is different for all of us. Miss America dancing queen is probably carrying around some average guys baby in her given up belly, already set on her path of monotony and nagging. I wasn’t meant to be normal, I’m so happy about that. So now, I go out dancing regularly, have a great time, and find that I’m pretty good at it. Another bullshit childhood insecurity, I can set free.

I still sort of don’t know what to do with my arms… What CAN you do?!

And don’t say clap, because if anyone starts clapping above their head while dancing… I WILL STOP THEM.

Are you using a real computer?

If you’re not on mobile, you should check out this temporary site I’m trying out until I actually have a reason to get a real one.

Click right here

The Itch

Tonight is my first day living alone again.

This reminds me of writing one of my old blog entries, when I was debating if I would move back to Jersey, or LA, or travel. Can’t believe that was over a year ago, I have been so goddamn unproductive this year preoccupied with my “living with strangers” addiction. What’s wrong with me, I’ve forced myself to live like a foster child for the past year, 26 roommates and 5 homes since last August, and now here I am… sitting on the floor of my very own furniture-less apt in LA.

One thing in that time, I have not done, is share a room. But room sharing is the reason that I have lived with so many people. Sometimes 2-3 ppl to a room, then ppl move in their bfs or gfs or dancing partners… don’t ask. I think a big part of the reason I did this is because I’ve been abstinent for over a year. And whats a way to distract yourself from yourself, when you refuse relationships n sex… live with people. I basically had a phobia of roommates, its creepy just meeting a stranger than sharing all your personal space with them. I expect all roommate situations to be just like Real World, Big Brother, and Jersey Shore. The though of being subjected to someone’s “remains.” Some leave crumbs in the kitchen, a dirty dish, body hair in the tub, a turd in the toilet, rotting food in the fridge, it’s gross to see the traces of a stranger’s daily life… All over your space. One of mine is I really dirty-up bathroom mirrors. They way I brush my teeth, little splatters get on the mirror because I am aggressive with it like everything else in my life. And I’m not gonna clean the mirror every day. So deal.

Eventually I had no other choice but to have roommates and I met the most Amazing Russian, German, and Australian awesome women. They deceived me into thinking roommate situations are easily wonderful. Since then, however, it’s been a different story.

The universe needed something to get me out of this unproductive hole and gave me the roommate from hell. A man who was abruptly dumped… and by that I mean, his wife ran away from him. Stole his car, and drove 4,000 miles away. Then 3 weeks later, I move in and start renting a room.

This interaction taught me a lot although it was a painfully annoying and clingy situation. It’s haunting me that all of that HORRID passive aggressive and obsessive bullshit he did are things that I’ve subjected people to. Its sickening. If I didn’t answer a text message from him… because WHY? is my room in flames?… if not, then we have nothing else in common aside from your apt is incredibly close to my job, and my bedroom happens to be inside your apt. But if I didn’t respond, it builds, and builds… and ANYTHING will be said in order to get an answer. Its an itch, and I know because I have felt it.

When I say itch I mean: you text your bf, he doesn’t answer. The craziness starts, ideas run through your head… You text him again, probably something unrelated to the first to draw his attention. Then again, asking a question thats more urgent. But they don’t, so you start accusing, or threatening. The situation can go so many ways, but I’m talking about that NEEEEEEEED to continue on.

The NEED, The ITCH: to not be satisfied with the reaction or attention you’re getting that you completely lose all sense boundaries, just to FEED in to that feeling.

Two days after I moved in, he was texting his wife and she wasn’t answering, wonder why? So he obsessed about it all day, got wasted, acted out to get her attention. Then finally texts her that him and I were going for a 2 week vacation together in San Francisco. Whaaat? I couldn’t believe what I got myself into. He got a reaction from her alright.

A week later, I was hiking, it was fucking 90 degrees in direct sunlight, I jogged back home. He starts talking to me, and he uses a lot of COOL GUY vocabulary. Like “dough” instead of money. Also, “Cool Beans” which is kill-worthy. “Blitzed,” and the list goes on. It was so cringe-y to talk to him, that I avoided it all together. He would tell awful jokes then ask me to text it to comedians I know, to see if they thought it was funny. I was so mortified on a daily basis, how could anyone’s need for attention strip them THAT much of any sense of reality. I was genuinely stressed out from the idea of him being awake when I went home.

I managed to bypass this daily banter, and go straight to my room so I can get ready for a shower. But he talks to me through my door. TALKING THROUGH THE CLOSED DOOR, is a level 7 in roommate boundaries. You need to evaluate the current situation, and on a scale of 1 to 10 how much does the information you are about to tell them going to affect them right now. It is NOT for casual use, but someone with the itch, knows no boundaries. I didn’t answer in an attempt to divert the behavior. But not answering when an itcher speaks to you, will only encourage them to speak again… except louder. The itch eliminates all ability to see something is not working. So they will continue to do again and again… Which is also the definition of insanity, I believe. So… I try to stop the “Door Talking” by going in the bathroom. AND HE STARTS TALKING TO ME THROUGH THE BATHROOM DOOR. This is a LEVEL 10. For example “Omg don’t flush the toilet someone took a shit in the tank!”

I didn’t acknowledge the intrusive BATHROOM DOOR TALKING, I was in total disbelief. When I was in the shower I bumped into my loofa and was afraid it was him too. Then I laughed and thought I was safe. Until I go back in my room, still in a towel, to dry and do AFTER SHOWER NORMAL HUMAN STUFF… how surprising, a text from my roommate. Then another, asking if I’m pissed at him. See the itch, you must propose something that they cannot ignore. Confront them, accuse them, attack them, put words in their mouth.. and yes you WILL successfully earn another DROP IN YOUR ENDLESS ATTENTION BARREL.

As I am trying to respond to his, “Waaahhh, Are you mad at me?” text, he texts again saying tomorrow he’ll give me a gift. Ughhh, I’m still replyinh to is last annoying text, that says “I need space n want to come home n be able to shower n go to my room without hearing about ur problems.” Then in the SHORT TIME it takes to add in a “no thank u” in the beginning because I don’t want his stupid gift… He texts me AGAIN. I sent the one text and left it at that. But the storm of sorry texts and “please don’t feel uncomfortable” texts begun. He got his answer, Im not mad I want my space and not to be bothered. But Nooooooooo, nothing is ever enough. Its an itch, it feels good to scratch even after its not itchy anymore. When he doesn’t get a response, he must raise the stakes, “Is my wallet on the counter?” IM NOT GONNA FUCKING CHECK, IM STILL TRYING TO DRY MY ASS. Another text comes in, “Omg I think I dropped it on the way out. Please check for me.” How did he have time to leave the house and continue harassing me throughout? So finally I check, and it’s not there obviously cause it’s all a fucking ploy in his sick mind to get a response. It’s like OCD, flicking a light switch on and going into the room is not an option for some, they MUST turn it on, and off, then on again before they can enter.

In attempt to just end it, I text, “not there” and he’s like “thanks found it in the car.” Hmmm, then why are your CAR KEYS on the fucking counter you sicko? I just left it. N within 12 hours he was texting me again “I’m showing ur room in an hr for someone to rent out” I continued not to answer, show the room, your gonna do it anyway even if I say don’t. There’s nothing I can do now to prevent you from seeing the dildo and knife on my bed at this point. And next time I saw him, he’s like “Jenn, I got a really hot actress moving into your room.”

This is an accurate example of the 6 weeks I lived there. And last night, we had a BLOW OUT. Because I accidentally locked myself out, and he thought it was a scheme to “pretend to lose my key” so I can come back and rob him. I exploded. And I know the reason he was accusing me of trying to rob him is only because he was talking to me through my door and I didn’t open it for him. He needed that reaction, so he will say and do whatever to get it. He started pounding on my door cursing about it. So I swung the door open and snarled at him “What do you need me to physically show you the fucking keys like you’re my fucking father.” Because he’s fucking pounding on my door threatening me with consequences like I’m about to get grounded. Uh oh, don’t upset dad- he’s fucking PMSing again. Its retarded, I have no intention of stealing from him. I only looked forward to leaving and never coming back.. no valuable could be worth stepping back in that place and dealing with him again. The argument got heated, and he tried kicking me out at 2am. Which made him feel powerful dangling shelter over a 23yr old girl’s head at 2am, knowing I dont have a car and no where to go. I convince him to let me stay until the morning, how nice of him. For someone so up my ass, every second of every day, and the moment I say anything he kicked me out. Exactly like I said he would.

I’m good at suppressing my craziness, but that day or 2 before your period, your ability to control your emotions are weak and scattered. That’s because a period is when you don’t get pregnant, in the eyes of evolution, you need to get that man’s sperm away from you. Hence, PMS. Which yes, my PMS got me kicked out of my house, fuck it, it ain’t the first time. My ex kicked me out more than anyone else ever will as long as I live. He has tried sending me home from vacations of a plane. So getting asked to leave a place that I hate, no issue there. It felt incredible to finally know that my time with him was over… Forever. I’m still awake from before we argued because I spend last night packing. I love being awake this long, I feel like its the most productive time in my life when I’m on 2 days no sleep.

Since I’ve been single a while, I haven’t had an drama or fights. No time spent fighting, thinking about prior fights, feeling bad about things said in fights, or finding things to fight about. So I’ve become really disillusioned into thinking I’ve cured with my anger problems and I’m cool as a cucumber. And last night, I saw… This temper still exists. Just no one has pushed my buttons hard enough.

So not only did I learn, how unbearable dealing with a victim of the itch can be… Which I am guilty of. I also have a lot more work to do with my aggression level and anger.

Its amazing how such an awful night, would turn into such a good day. I moved into my own place, everything worked out amazing. I’m finishing the VERY LAST finishing touch of my film, and I feel the need to write, my script is out… not being written but its here spirit its here asking to be remembered. And I hear its prayers.

Anyway, my back is killing me. It’s amazing how sitting on the floor can be so much more comfortable than laying on a bed in my last place. Good riddance.

Getting Here

So I’ve been living in LA going on 4 months now.  I’ve avoided this blog since then because I didn’t know where to begin.

I have really bad writing habits, a draw out the boring points of my life so that no one asks further and therefore I never tell them all the real crazy shit.  I need time before I take everything out the closet. In the meantime, here’s a waste of time:

My 2 last months in NY were phenomenal.  Was a witness at my gay friends wedding, Maid of Honor at my sisters wedding, my best friend since 15 had a baby, my oldest sister had a baby and now I have a nephew. I made friends, I become better friends with my friends, everything was beautiful right up until the departing flight. Then I got here.

Basically from the moment I landed its been rough.  I had about 250lbs of stuff on me, not much for everything I own, but def not easy to maneuver for 120lb me. Even getting it on the cart was a hassle, but I did it and made it to the rental car place.

I just got my license about 3 days before I came.  It would have been sooner, but I failed the first driving test. Luckily I was able to get another appt before I moved, but I completely sucked. It was humiliating, my parallel parking was a nightmare.  But I didn’t give up, I just kept adjusting… drive, reverse, drive, reverse, spinning the wheel around. Ugh, I was sick to my stomach, until he finally got so annoyed he just said it was ok. I was so releaved, I pulled out without even signaling. Ugh. Then I fucked up my right of way 2 times.  I was basically tearing up, getting ready to cry, cause I knew I was gonna fail.  But the guy says “You know I’m doing you a favor right?” And prints out a little paper receipt that says I must use this with my learners permit to drive until I get an ID card in the mail.  I was so happy, and he only listed TWO of the things I did wrong on the test.

And this the little flimsy piece of paper, I was trying to rent a car with.  She said no way, I asked to speak with a manager.  She spoke with them, he came out and told me no and went back in.  Then I looked at this girl and said “See those 3 suitcases there? Thats everything I own, i just moved here less than an hr ago, I’m moving in a house that Ive never been to, I just got my license to come here. Its a real license, can you just please ask someone else?”

An older lady comes out, and told me they can do it for me. I was so happyyyyyyy!! It ends up being $500… more than I was expecting for a crappy chevy… but ok. Then my card was declined because they also need a $400 deposit. Oh, well here I am with a wad of cash and a few thousand dollars floating in cyberspace for another 2 business days while “funds transfer.” Great. I’m trying everything possible.  They can’t accept cash, I’m calling ppl… so I call a cab, cab it to the bank, put the money in while the cab meter ticks and we drive back. This whole process of getting that rental car took about 4 hours but there I was loading loading the trunk up and driving off.  Apparently, I drove a few miles in the wrong gear because I noticed the car was jerking and making noise and then I realized I was in D3… whatever that means.

I was so proud, I was driving alone for the first time in my life.  I saw a target and got some comfort food… hot pockets, to bring to MY NEW HOME!

When I arrived I met my roommates, there were 13 of them. Plus a blind dog, a one-eyed dog, and 2 cats. We hung out, bonded pretty much right away, it was awesome. This huge dingy house, with a bunch of people in transitional points of their life sitting on a couch, on a porch, in the ghetto of Koreatown, just getting to know each other.  After I unpacked a bit… my room was the basement, it was fucking scary. The landlord is like “I’ve been crashing down here, make sure you clean the sheets when you leave… I think they’re pretty clean now.” I cringed, I almost cried. I was so broken down, been up since 5am NY time… and now its 10pm LA time. I’m laying in bed, I feel worried, I have no idea what to expect, I’m getting that familiar feeling of “Jenn, WTF?” I was panicking a bit so I decided to take a drive. I get in the car alone, we were right near Wilshire, so I just cruised all the way downtown. It was amazing, I felt like my new life is beginning. I’m happy, I’m independent, I’m alone in a new place… which I’m sickly addicted to. And then I turned around and drove all the way back up wilshire to Brentwood. It was amazing, I had like 3 red lights. I was really tired, almost 2am it was now 24hrs that I’ve been awake so I start driving back.  I made it home, goddamn I was fucking proud. I felt fucking powerful, so I pull into the driveway and completely plow into the fence.  Yes, you read right, I crashed into the fuckin fence. Ugh…

People were on the porch, everyone woke up, people came outside, ugh. We decide to handle it in the morning by calling my insurance.  I don’t have insurance, the rental does, but I’m not reporting it because its cheaper to pay for a fence then for me to have higher insurance when I get a car. I only rented the car to help me look for a car to buy. So I figure I’ll get the fence fixed and I’m getting quoted $700+ from everywhere.  So I need to relax and take a shower, I see the shower for the first time.  It has a foot of hairy brown water, with all shaved off hair pieces stuck to the sides and its clogged as fuck. I feel myself about to have a meltdown. I start plunging, and my giving it my all as I am silently balling my eyes out crying plunging this drain that is not unclogging. I just wanted a shower, I want my money to clear in the bank, I need to fix the fence.  I give up, and when I open the door the landlord is there, and tells me I can use the other bathroom. Omg I was so happy, then I got inside and the water didn’t get hot and it was too narrow for my lanky ass arms to wash myself. About 5 mins in it went completely cold and I got out and finished the cry from earlier.  Went downstair, regrouped, and found LOPEZ IRONWORKS… I made him only replace the piece I hit and to straighten the rest out.  He did it all for $200.  That was my first 24hrs here, it hasn’t gotten much better.

Well long story short, its been constant disaster, one after each other. I didn’t get a bar tending job, I applied for months, interviewed like crazy and thats it… almost 3 months go by and as I am on the verge on being forced to move back to NY.  My money is gone, I luckily never bought the car, I moved again and Im living in the middle of El Salvador village. Basically everything that could go wrong has, I even got the flu. Now, things are starting to settle down I hope, I am working in a Medical Marijuana Dispensary.  Its easy, laid back, and chill. Its low paying, but I have a lot of downtime to work on my script so I can lie to myself and pretend I’m getting paid to write… cuz if I was getting paid to sell weed I’d be making a lot more.  My mom is really proud I became a Doctor until I figure the movie thing out.

And speaking of that, I am working on a new script for a feature because I am finally finishing up my short film, “Who is Tara Thomas?” It was 1 year ago in June that I shot this movie. And I think thats what really changed my life.  I feel so much closure, and so much satisfaction. Also, I’m working on directing a music video for one of my old roommates from that crazy house.

Its been over a year now that I am single, and although I’m still in constant heart ache over it, its been the best year of my life as far as self fulfillment, having deep friendships, enjoying myself, and over all the best I’ve felt… even though there is this looming complicated, confusing and amazing/painful question in my head and heart about where to go with my love life. It hasn’t held me back from anything (except getting dick). Sad thing is he helped me get to this point of being healthy and happy, I hate that he doesnt get to see how I am now and I’ll always be the cunt that threatened to smash his laptop to stop him from cybersexing. I’ve changed a lot, and if we don’t end up together then I know that I’m making the changes I need to in order to have a healthy life, with or without.  When I was jobless and thinking about moving back to NY/NJ, my friend said “Remember why you came to LA…” I thought about all the reasons, all the different reasons I told different ppl.  Some ppl it was for film, some was for a break from NY, a mini vacation, whatever it was, I know I wanted to come.  But the only reason I feel like I came was because it hurt me being in the same city as my ex knowing i wasn’t gonna see him. Everything reminded me of him, I wanted to move on.  I feel like its easier to move on if you just leave. But I know that even that reason is bullshit too, otherwise I would been trying to get over him while I’m here.  Instead, I’m just putting it on hold… I don’t need to know right now what we are, are we friends or will we be lovers again? A year wasn’t enough time ti figure out. I’m not ready to have a relationship again, worrying about what his cock is doing all day long. The best part is not giving a fuck, is he fucking other people while I am going on a year being abstinent.  Oh well, I cared enough. Of course it hurts if I knew he was but at the end of the day I’m doing whats best for me. That’s why I came here, I am a soul searcher, I love to test myself, and I just felt it… I felt something pulling me here.. thats why I came.  That’s why I’m staying… (for now.)

Am I liking it here? Hmmm… some days, yes. Others, fuck no. But I’m hanging in there… next week I’m moving AGAIN… this time to Hollywood a few blocks from my Dispensary. Two months there, and then I’m ready to go again. Will I stay? Will I go? Lets wait and see. Uncertainty can be a sign of weakness, but I feel strong and I’m not afraid that I have no idea what tomorrow holds.

Drunken Truth… REALLY.

I’m a person of my word, its all I have.  the problem is that I’m also pretty sarcastic. So a lot of my words are sarcasm. But overall I don’t say I’m gonna do anything that I wouldn’t unless its completely absurd and clearly no one ever would. UNLESS, in a relationship.  In that case I am guilty of talking MASSIVE shit. “I WILL FUCKING GO TO YOUR DOORMAN AND ASK RIGHT NOW!!”  ” I WILL FUCKING SMASH YOUR COMPUTER IF YOU DONT TELL ME RIGHT NOW”  Haha, but aside from that, I’m a person of my word. If I say Im gonna hit you, I will…. thats the truth. I don’t throw those words around. If I say I’m gonna hit someone I’m willing to scrapple on the floor with them. If I say I hate someone to be funny you’ll know… if i say I HATE someone, you will really know. And it’s real, like I’ll eliminate that person from my life. Actually follow through with what I say. I try to stand by my word because it’s all I have when my appearance and my views on life and the world and spirituality have changed so much over the years. Its the only way I can be Jenn, and stay true to when Jenn is constantly changing and so many fucking things that I don’t even know what the fuck Jenn is half the time. If I continue to be honest, and try not to bullshit and will actually follow through with what I say… then thats something worth a lot.  I don’t have achievements or money to back up who I am… never have… underachieved parents… even my generations of sibling only 1 graduated college. So, basically I’m gonna have to do it Jersey style and put it out there: I don’t have shit, but I’m real. At least 75% real and on my bullshit… you’ll know it’s meant to be full of shit.

I’ve gone through so many phases, I’ve looked so many different styles, I’m currently in my normal person disguise because it works best. People take you seriously and are impressed when you have something interesting to say ? Me just normal me? Not me with green hair and piercings and dying to say “I’m so different” has something “different” to say.   I have gone to extremes, more than I’d ever share on this “blog”… ew. And now the person that I’m appearing to be is a normal american girl. Nothing wrong with that, its good for an american girl to have a opinion and not just be looking for some rich old dick. Although I can and do have that down, I don’t exhaust the option because I want to do well on my own. I’m willing to live by my own means. Living how I can afford to, and be comfortable.  Its important to be self sufficient and not give in to luxury in exchange for freedom.  I’m in super love, but me achieving goals on my own is more important. I want that person in my life, but I don’t want him to have me as a tainted weak person that is dependent on him and others. The way I want someone to love me is how I am as an individual when I’m strong and doing what I want.  I’m grateful he’s been there when I wasn’t strong, because I wouldn’t be where I am… I know I’ll be stronger though and I think thats the woman he deserves. And its the woman I deserve to be for myself mostly. Oh god, drinking has got me positive or really bullshitting hard lately.

A lot of friends do the Sugar Daddy thing. Obviously, I;m a sugar baby dream… Im cute, got a good juicy ass, I’m smart, very good in bed cuz I’m sort of nuts…  and not after money… I’m like the ultimate sugar baby delight. And even though its a desirable job to be, that comes naturally to me, I just couldn’t do it.  I will love a guy who has worked for his money, but I still want mine for what I do. (And that changes) I mean, who doesn’t want to date a guy that has worked for his money and loves spending it.  Buuuut, even still… I want to work and get my own, because it never feels good to rely on anyone for your income. Constantly worrying that if something comes up, will u turn a blind eye for a price basically.  That I won’t do, there are so few honest people in the world, I’m willing to be broke. Cause seriously, I HAVE been, I STILL AM, and sadly I know how to do it very well. It even comfortable for me in some ” I really want to believe that” way.  Fortunately, I know how to not seem broke… slightly. But at the end of it all.. I’m willing to be broke before sell my dignity.. because I’ve sold dignity in different forms and prices, and yea… not really what I’m going for with the whole what I believe in thing.  So before I look like worse of an asshole, figure, try to stay consistent with my word and what I say. Cuz in all my opinions that will change, and all my styles that with morph… and who ever I will become with my many professions… even currently I’m in another career transitional point, and especially the huge geographical transition in my life…. I stay true to what I believe. Mostly in being honest, following through in what I say I will, but only saying things I will actually do. Also, u know I believe in lots of other shit too so overall I just try to do good and be nice.  (Unless you follow me on twitter which for some reason is the complete opposite of all of this and everything I am. Follow me: @JenniferCarmody)

Please A&E, I need more reality TV

I want A&E to make a reality tv show for co-dependent relationships. I’m not a fan of Intervention. But all the spin-offs I love.

Hoarders is my favorite thing ever, I’ve watched every episode and try to convince people I know they are hoarders whenever they don’t throw something away. Except for my one friend, I was like your just a lazy slob take your fucking garbage out. I love when the “team” finds dead cat skulls and shows the Hoarder to prove to them they aren’t taking care of their animals and they have no reaction whatsoever. A lot of people hate reality tv but I’m so inspired by it. Where else are they’re disasters anymore? All the “fuck-ups” and “crazies” on tv and most films are so cookie cutter. They’re so afraid of offending the mentally ill that there isn’t characters like Hoarders on Tv. Who else could look around and literally thousands of pounds of garbage and say, “I think hoarding comes from my sense of perfectionism.” It’s the greatest thing ever.

Obsessed was good, def the most intelligent interesting one. Also the most amusing cause it was so bizarre. My favorite was the guy with the El Camino phobia. He’s walking down the street talking about it then one drives by he’s like “See??!” and starts running “who the fuck still drives those things?!” Or the girl who was too afraid to bring anything inside her apt, even groceries cause it will make the fridge too heavy… And her building will collapse. I laughed really hard, then I found out her kids heart exploded in front of her n died. Bur I still loved her reaction when the doctor gave her 3 huge oranges to bring home. “They’re too heavy!”

HEAVY, the intervention for fat ppl, was awesome though!! I tore through that whole series on Netflix in days. It was so fantastic. All of these shows help me cause I can’t afford my own therapy.

I want them to make one for toxic couples who need to stop their co-dependency issues. That would be good, not only to watch because it will be SO awful but those shows shed light on a lot of stupid people lives. The whole seasons 2 and 3 of hoarders was people who were like “I didn’t know what hoarding was until I saw it on the television… Then I looked around n said uh-oh.”

The relationship one will be more awful cause they’ll fight and bring up personal shit on camera. Kind of like Cheaters, but with the serious A&E music. And hopefully with more success rate than the couples on Maury.

The old neighborhood

When I was 13, in the 8th grade. It was Spring, we were graduating soon… there was a “goth” kid. We didn’t know his name, so we called him “ohmygoth.”  Since we were shocked to see him.  He lived in the same house as our friend Boe, who was an 50 yr old coke/pill head who we dearly loved.  Boe would make literally every conversation about his mother or sex, with us, not his mother.  But he was harmless and gave us xanax.  And in Jersey City there is really nothing to do so you have to make adventures for yourself, by meeting interesting people or causing trouble.

My friend found out ohmygoth worked at this Store Kennedy on Central Ave.  “Central” is like the place to would go to get something you need, hence the name.  But here’s the list of attractions: Rainbow Clothing Store, Burger King, seven 99cent stores, metroPCS, pay less shoes, beauty supply stores. Kennedy is a cheap discount store. It carries things like Kmart but usually the cheap defective versions, like $3.99 sheets. appliances, discounted old hair dyes, batteries from china, etc.

The 3 of us want to go to his job and see if he has a nametag. We are giggling and fucking around on the way there and cross the street, going straight for the entrance…  just as ohmygoth walks out in his uniform going to price some outdoor merchandise. My friend and I are mortified completely, but the other girl didn’t recognize him in his bright blue uniform vest, and Kennedy happens to be right next to the Gothic Cabinet and Craft store. She busts out laughing “Does he work here guys?! GOTHIC cabinet. Haha” And there we are face to face, and she continues “He SHOULD work there. GOTHIC cabinets haha!” uuugggghhhhh, and we did the worst thing, we kept walking and he knew we were intending on going in the store, then backed out. ewwwww.

I shared that story cause now that store is getting some press.

Snooki, JWoww sighted shopping for discounts on Central Avenue in Jersey City Heights

Jersey Shore spin off in Jersey City?? I have to say I’m pretty pumped.  I’m not crazy about Jersey Shore but Snooki got pregnant, she really is doing it up JC style!!  But to be honest, Im actually shocked at just HOW jersey city she is getting.  There is a Target and a mall right near the place they’re staying, to drive up to the heights to save some money. I’m a little embarrassed. She should’t raise her child in JC or it will grow up to be me.

Please Read My Rejected Cosmo Article

Size Matters! Stop Being Afraid to Hurt your Man… He’ll like it.

Some guys really love big tits, others like a nice fat ass, or a super petite women.  Whatever the preference, they say it’s cause, “Men are visual creatures.” And I believe it, because when you go to the gay male community, where women are eliminated, the men look FUCKING GOOD. That’s because there’s no women to see past their poorly fitting shirt or their receding hairline. Yes, there is real love in the gay community, but you better look good to be considered for it. (Or find someone not actively involved in the community.)  Straight men on the other hand, have very little experience in what it’s like to have such superficial standards set for them by potential mate. Because SOMEHOW, as women, we have let our standards in men drop below what a man’s standards for dating another man is. I understand, there is millions of years of evolution against us… as women, we had to settle to survive. And yes, because men are so visual we have been trying to be most beautiful, so they want to take us away and protect us. But in today’s world, women work and can take care of all our own survival needs. We still want men in our life, but we don’t NEED them like before. When we want a man its for love, companionship, and sex.  Not food, shelter, and warmth like before… thank fucking god. This is super recent though, even today women in AMERICA need a man to survive.  But those of us who can live on our own should do so, to start training men for what to expect.  As the years go on, if men don’t adjust to the new breed of women they’re gonna be left behind. Women are learning to do man’s duties like work and provide, and if men don’t learn the duties that were previously “female” like love, provide pleasure, and look pretty, then the world is gonna go back to being female dominated like it was before religion suppressed us and having a big cock will literally be the only thing you can do to save yourself.

In several studies of men’s psyche, they found that “Penis Size” was overemphasized in importance. And in a similar study featuring only women, it was “concluded” that “size did not matter.” But if it didn’t matter, then why do humans have bigger penises than any other primate… when a gorilla is fucking gigantic and totally deserves a bigger cock??  Because humans are the only ones that truly have sex for pleasure, and the proof is in the clitoris. So if I hear another article say a vagina is only 4 inches deep so size doesn’t matter, I swear to god I’ll do a demonstration.

So ladies, even if u can’t take it… get a very large dildo, and depending on ur man you want to get one a different ethnic coloring than your own… and leave somewhere he will find it.  (Like wrapped in the sheets, not next to his bud lite.) Don’t be afraid to let your man know you are a little slutty, he has no problem letting you know he’s fucking dumb and can’t control himself. And if he isn’t bothered by it… then you guys just found a whole new thing to be excited about.

But be careful, if your man let’s you get a bigger dick every once and a while know that its proven guys with bigger penises are more potent, not only is there more sperm released on average its also closer it’s destination. So don’t be dumb and let the whole neighborhood find out your a little slutty too.

For those of you whose man was not happy about the dildo. Fuck him, his ego needed that.

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