Dick Week, Day Three: We Suck What Will Destroy Us

Onto Day 3 of beloved (?) Dick Week!  I am writing this post in the midst of a panic attack, so while you’re reading this, if you suddenly start shaking and need someone to rub your temples very softly for the next three hours, I’M SORRY.  Panic attacks are the honey badgers of the blogging world – they don’t give a fuck about deadlines.  Anyways, I am so goddamn happy that some ladies of 801 saw penises, laughed at them heartily, and then shared their thoughts on everything from dry-humping to deep-throating.  Yaaaay, women!  We’re like the lampreys of men’s self-esteems – we are cold-hearted suckers. 

Before we move on, let’s calmly water our peace lilies and watch the girls from The Hills for a second:

 Ahhhhh.  It’s like I’m one with the world now.  (I wish I created that gif, but I didn't.)  Let’s get to it!

The Hick From The Crypt

About a month ago, I went to a bar called the Spot to celebrate three of my friends’ birthdays that were all within the same week.  For whatever nostalgic purposes, they pick the Spot every year, and even though I give my computer screen a Katherine Heigl-esque Fart Face every time I open the birthday invitation, I always go because of my friends’ unparalleled magnificence, and the fact that I rarely get to see them since they’re spread all over the valley now.

This One Goes To Eleven

Two thousand eleven has been one of those years that no matter what good has happened, the bad makes it easy to dismiss the past 365 days by saying, “Now Daddy, shake 2011's hand, and let's be On. Our. Way.” No bullshit, things got a little ugly this year. But hey, that's alright, right? I've got a number of things lined up for 2012 that will more than make up for this last year's bullshittery, like taking up racquetball, starting life in my thirties, Tammi Gymnastics' and my upcoming trip to SF and Portland, and....becoming a prankster. I really want to take fucking with people up to a whole new level. But before I can do that, I got to get the taste of 2011 out of my mouth. Since the end of December is all about lists, here's mine (in no particular order of importance) for the year:

Gull, You'll Be a Wormen Soon

Women scare the ever-living daylights out of me.  Boo!  I’m scared.  Not as scared as I am of the seven consecutive words “I want you to be my wife”, but fuck, put me in a gurney because I’m ready to die rather than journey through the depths of my soul trying to understand the females.  Aside from the datum that I truly am attracted to women (but too frightened to eat pussy, so that’s where my lesbianism ends), I can’t get past the rawness that I feel when confronted with the fact that women can be your best, best, bestest friends for years, but come next summer, BOOOOOOOOM, you’re Dead to Them because for whatever reason, you fucked up and said they didn’t look good in orange.  Dead, dead, dead.  These days, about 95% of my friends are guys, and about 65% of those guys are only hanging out with me because they think I’ll fuck them.  However, no matter what hidden motives the men in my life may have, amigas, I’m more enticed to hanging out with people that don’t hold grudges like it’s going out of style, don’t vejazzle-dazzle their crotch areas, and are generally way more consistent friends.