Make Out Sluts

Whats up everyone. Sorry for the lack of updates, I've been CRAZY busy at work... and well... I just don't have the desire to blog at home when I could better spend my time sitting by the pool and binge eating. But I just want to wish Jet a Happy Birthday... i guess that means bone city for her tonight!

Anywho, here's what I want to talk about today: Make Out Sluts, or as Spider Monkey refers to them: Make Out Bandits. I've decided that since the streak is now one year longer than it was last year, that I'm going to have to take the long road to bone city, no express lane. Clearly, the best way to do this is to become a make out slut. But how exactly does one become one? Social decorum states that a lady can not propose any making out to a guy as this is the dude's responsibility. But here's the rub: men are pussies. And it seems to me that the only men who are not pussies, really should be because they are butt ugly. I mean honestly, I dont understand how these butt ugly men who may or may not be related to Steve Buscemi think that they are the ones oozing with sex appeal. Gross, get your narsty slobbery ass away from me. You are not attractive and you are wearing a Canadian Tuxedo.

But then on the opposite end of the spectrum, you have the "hot" guys who know that they're hot and will only give the time of day to girls who look like Gisele Bundchen. But oh wait, did i mention that they have shit for brians? Yeah... they'll spend their entire lives stuck in a windowless cubicle because they spend their college days worrying about getting laid and not about their ambition. Oh and they probably have Chlamydia.

No... it's those guys who are funny, nice, smart and good looking who are the pussies. I mean, its kind of endearing in a way because they don't realize that they have something going for them, but good god, make a move man! And I know everyone is going to say, why can't the girls make a move? I'll tell you why: because the type of girls who make a move (ie be aggressive) are the girls you have a one night stand with, not the girls you date.

Anyway, so here's my question, how can i become a make out slut if i dont want to be that one night stand girl and i can't make a move? Quite the conundrum eh? Not to mention the fact that I really don't think that I'm cut out for being a make out slut... i mean it is kind of hard when the guys you want to make out with don't want to make out with you back. Is it too much to ask for a "Jim from The Office" type to actually be attracted to me? Oh wait it is... because I don't attract members of the opposite sex... only four year olds with butt fetishes at weddings. I guess that's why my all time make out number is nine... yes, a lowly nine... less than ten... these are the number of different guys with whom i've had a little tongue action. And come to think of it, most of these occassions (and by most i mean approximately 95%) have been in public while wasted and in the dark. So basically i need alcoholic cooersion to get a little play... and that was back when i was getting play. Now i just settle for going out and looking at attractive men.

And what happens if by some chance hell freezes over and I actually meet someone who would be willing to make out with me? I mean, this isn't college anymore so public make out is highly discouraged. So do I have to go back to his place? I mean, then I have to worry about that awakward conversation that I'm on a rather long streak and need to get back in the game, so don't expect much more than a frigid kiss or two. And that's if i can even remember how to do it!

How do I get you alone?
Anita Mann

Bone City in the year 2007

Let's talk about what happens to you when you've been out of the game for more than a long while: you regress back to middle school. Things that people say they do while hooking up brings shock and awe into your gut. You think to yourself, 'By the beard of Zeus, what is wrong with people?!' and basically you have no desire to engage in any of this sort of activity. I found myself simply wanting someone to stay at home under a blanket at watch a movie with me. But then I realized that I could get this kind of satisfaction from a dog. Have I really turned into someone whose been in a 30 year marriage, minus the marriage part?

All of this stems from a conversation I had with a friend on Saturday night. Now I always knew this friend never had any trouble in the lady department but he shared some information with me that I found completely revolting about what he does with these ladies. (I should say that he did preface his statements that these were all former girlfriends.) Now at first, I thought this individual was just trying to get a rise out of me, but when I asked him to be serious, he gave me this look on his face like he was dead serious.

Now I'm not going to go into detail as to the scope of our conversation but I will say that boobs were the main topic of discussion, ie what are the best positions to bone girls with big boobs and a move that should be strictly reserved for porn only. (Let's just say it's a form of "outer-course" where the primary ingredient is boobs). This got more more than a little nervous because it made me wonder if i had been out of the game so long that hooking up had become increasingly more kinky than what I had remembered.

Also, with all of this talk about girls with big bombs, it made me feel even more insecure than I had felt before. I mean, when your gut is twice the size of your mammary glands, it pretty much looks like my entire mid section had been beaten with an ugly stick. But there is one saving grace, with a severe lack of jugs on my front, I'll never have to worry about what my friend and I had discussed on Saturday. Why? Because it's physically impossible for me to do.

Still a Nearly-A,
Anita Mann

A Wild Weekend?

Whats up folks? I've had an interesting couple of days. Apparently all of the men were in hiding this weekend. Perhaps the could smell that the predator was out on the hunt and were in deep camaflouge? I don't know because I was definitly out and about this weekend and did not see a single potential target. Thursday night was really bad. I went to Little Havana with some friends thinking it would be a sure thing. Usually Havana is a huge sausage fest. But alas, not last thursday. Apparently, when the NBA playoffs are on TV, all of the hot men go into hiding and all of the scrawny, pasty WT men with bad teeth come out on the prowl. So Thursday was clearly a disappointment, but hey, I had the whole weekend ahead of me.

Now that I'm 25, I think I'm officially over the going out hill. I wanted to off myself on friday from sheer exhaustion, which is pretty pathetic because I was out until about 11:30 and slept until 8:30 the next morning. Apparently, hunting for men takes all of the energy out of me. (hmm... maybe that's why I lost 2 pounds last week... maybe if I become a hooker and search for men on a daily basis, i'll lose 30 pounds and forego being the size of a sumo wrestler after chowing down on a thanksgiving dinner.) Anywho, back to the point. So because of all of my tiredness on Friday, I decided to cozy up on my couch on friday night and watch a little TV. VH1 was showing the 40 most softsational soft rock songs and it inspired me to create a new CD of all of the awesome rock ballads of all time.

Saturday was hotter than black hairy balls here in Charm city. I'm pretty sure my thermometer on my car said 95 degrees. Due to the excessive heat, there was not even going to be an attempt at dressing "cute." I mean, don't get me wrong, I didn't look like a bum or anything, but I sure as hell wasn't going to wear tight restricting clothing or make up that was just going to melt off of my face in 20 seconds. Nah, shorts and a flowy tank top def did the trick to keep me cool. After driving down to DC to attend a beer pong tournament, in which I had an absolutely sad and pathetic showing (I guess your beer pong skills greatly decrease after you turn 25), I drove back to Baltimore to hang with BPG and her new man friend Chazz. I was kind of pumped because I hadn't met any of Chazz's friends and it was kind of exciting to hang out with different people. It turned out they were all pretty cool, even though one was wearing a tee shirt that said 'chick magnet.'

Beacuse I had driven directly from the tourney, I didnt have a change of clothes so I wore the same sweaty shorts and tank top out that night. And let me tell you, it was liberating. I'm never dressing 'cute' again! From here on out... it's going to be boxer shorts and wife beaters for me. I'll take comfort over style any day of the week... and it gives me that i dont give a crap confidence I am always craving b/c i know i already look bad so how more ridiculous can i get?

We headed over to the bar and I don't know if it was because there was a full moon out, but people were acting like complete boners. There were a whole bunch of douche bags at the bar in suits. Now usually, there's nothing like a man in a nice suit, but some how, the bar seemed to attract all of the men who are so fugs that they still look bad in suits. Clearly, there were wearing polyester suits from KMART or JC Penney or something. Anyway, after a beer or so, I look over and one of the suit monkeys had some poor unsuspecting girl against a wall and shoved his tongue down his throat. I mean honestly, who acts like that in public? This is NOT boat club. The only places where that kind of behavior is acceptable are sketchy bars where you can get pitchers for a dollar and the DJ plays songs like Too Close by Next. Then I turn around and there is another dude in a bad suit literally feeling some girls boobs right in the middle of the bar, FOR EVERY ONE TO SEE. I'm sorry, but breast exams really should be limited only to your yearly OB/GYN exam. Come on suit monkeys, college called and they want their behavior back.

What capped this weird weekend was the random facebook message I recieved this morning. It was from someone whose name I did not recognize so I thought it was one of those invitations to some weird ass party that a bad local DJ was throwing... clearly a party that I want to attend. Anyway, I checked it out and it was from a friend of a person I went to college with... someone I really didnt know that well either. Anyway, the message said the following:

I'd so do you!!! LMAO

Now here is my first problem... i don't speak text message so I had to Google LMAO. It turns out LMAO is IM speak for Laughing My Ass Off. Now this morphs into problem number two. I'm not sure if I should be flattered, skeeved out, or insulted by this message. I mean, is this random dude really into my hot bod (doubtful) or is he being a big jerk b/c he really thinks i'm a nasty twin and that's why he's laughing his ass off b/c he's toying with my internet emotions. Either way, this dude sounds like a total tool box and I've deced to go with emotion number three: skeeved out.

I'm off to a deposition in York, PA tomorrow (don't be jealous) but hopefully I'll have some good stories later in the week.

T-Minus 5 days until the Legwarmers!

Anita Mann