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| 50 bucks for frosted tips and still no one will do me (Shambles) |
Another week, another helping of AB & J. You'd think the refills of carbs and shambles would stop coming, but apparently life is an all you can shamble buffet, and I of course keep going back for more. This week there's a theme to my shambles sammy of FML, it's sexy in every way but one... namely, me getting sexted. But middle roll and man teets be damned, cuz I'm gonna keep on fighting the good fight against unsaturated fats and keep filling my plate with extra slabs of AngryBItter & Jelly, and I do it all for you. So click on that "keep reading" link to find out what the buffet master of shamblemonies is serving up this week...
ANGRY: Sites/Services That Invite The Spread Of STDs, But Don't Invite Me
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| Hands off my boo, you old rusty-ass-cougar-town bitch! |
Match.com, OKCupid, E-harmony (homophobic bitches), PlentyOFish, Grindr, Craigslist, sitting outside a park bathroom with my ween out and a $20 bill... I've tried it all, and yet sans one 6 month relationship that I wasn't ready for (hate my life Shambles), all I've found on these sites are weirdos, hobags, uggos, and women... and what good do all of those do a 400 pound writer-nerd whose interested are bacononators, not getting STDs, and watching TV?
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| Cerealously... him over me? This is why I date Asian chix |
Ok (Cupid) maybe I'm using a bit of dramatic effect, I have met some nice folks on some of the above sites, but I haven't found what those sites guarantee you will... a compatible match. Granted I'm one in a million and there is no comparison ferocia to my master of shambles other than a vampire named Pam and a probably-psycho-text-sender named Mona, but I'd like to think, save a couple hundred pounds, that I'm kinda a catch: I'm funny, not homeless, don't have herpes, and know how to compromise in a relationship... but time and time again as I go out on dates with Melvin McPedofile who still lives at home with his taxidermied mother who (even still) thinks "we should just be friends"... hobags that I can't stand are getting engaged or moving in with their boos that they met on the same sites/places I'm circling for booty like a half shark half lard pirate.
Granted I'm not really looking to settle down at the moment, and the thought of being in a relationship right now makes me want to stuff my face with comfort carbs since I got a lotta shit I wanna do career and life wise before I even date with the intention of settling down... but it still makes me angry when people find love as easy as I find french fries stuck inbetween my middle roll and man boobs.
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| Hope you like herpes... cuz you just got 'em, bitch |
Is there something wrong with me? Perhaps. Is there something other people are doing that I'm not, like going to duh club every night to find a boo? Perhaps. But maybe I'm just not the online dating type since my successes are so few and far between. I'd like to think in a few years my love priorities will change and I'll start seriously looking for someone to come home and eat cake with while watching
Pretty Little Liars instead of pretending to have no self esteem while blogging about it.
But until that PLL marathon-filled day comes, it's easier to be angry about all those people who either are or aren't looking for love that seem to find it quickly, while me and the rest of us living in reality come to accept the cold hard truth that we can't afford to pay escorts for sex, and we can't afford the resulting herpes medication from rando hookups... so instead we have to accept that hopefully our time will come for love, and that when it does, we won't pass it by because we'd rather be at home eating alone than out at the company mixer pretending to hit on Phil in accounting.
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BITTER: Star Fuqers
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| Exhibits A through Z, Your Honor |
To those not in the know, a Star Fuqer is a bitch or a douche who is somewhat attractive if you're from Vegas, but really is just a piece of trash that fawns over famous people and are attractive enough for said drunk celeb to want to take them back home and bone them one-night-stand-herpes style. I don't know any famous ones by name, because if they were that famous they wouldn't have to result to fuqing stars to get one-off snapped in a photo with them, they'd have their own cesspool of SF to choose from... but trust, when you see one, you know it.
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| Dammit, Corey Feldman why won't you look at us? |
These hobags and slutnuggest are usually circled around whatever Z-list "celeb" is in the joint who can potentially get their mug in some gossip mag or at least get mistaken by E! News as a potential new boo slash mistress/mistress-er for said Z-List Celebrity. Adding more chap to my bitterly overweight ass is that these minions use their hotness for evil, by making it seem like boning a celeb is easy as pie...mmm pie.
If I go up to a celeb at a party they usually shoo me away and say "no thank you" as though I were a cater waiter with a plate of sliders (ooh nom). But when some fembot or GTL douchebag goes up and throws themselves at the celeb, it's like some horrible wormhole opened up in the smog-filled LA sky and said "this ho is worth sticking it to, I will let them pick from my fame like a buzzard until I'm only a husk of myself before all this tequila".
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| Gay porn calls this a train, or human dicktipede... whichevs u prefer |
I realize it's different since I'm a dude looking to bone a dude... of course it's easier for some chick with big tits and half a clue to get some sexin' when she's all brushing up on David Arquette in duh club... and most "out" actors these days aren't out until they have a hubby or life partner with which to show they're not just some gaywad party boy like they know they probs really are... so I'm screwed there too, and not in the good way.
I refuse slash am not waif thin enough to attend some partyboi party at Gus Van Sant's house or Marc Cherry's crib to get "discovered" ala Dustin Lance Black (who I saw at the gym the other day and considered throwing myself at)... so I guess until I make it on my own talent and not my ability to swallow STD's, the best I can do is keep chomping on the bitter portion of my ABJ sammy... or at least hope one of you out there reading this is famous and wants me to exchange some nether tasting for a staff writing position on your show. A boi can dream.
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JELLY: Diesel Cut Amish Boys
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| Blessed be! Where do I convert? |
In the vein of short-bus hotties and foin ass Mormom Missionary boiz, Diesel Cut Amish and Mennonite Boys know not their hotness, and that makes me want them even more. If you're not in the know and haven't consulted your Shambletta Stone recently, please-to let me explain what Diesel-Cut means... basically: musclefied, super cut and chiseled bodied. Or in laymans' terms; Joe Mangianello... fret not though Shamblette's, I will-to have plenty of sexamples for you to peep and leak fluids over.
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| Shut the front door and open up the back.... he's Amish? |
These Amish boiz work long and hard in the fields or whatever all day lifting and plowing shit, so you know they're building muscle with every bail of wheat they toss like ass salad and cow they milk like man teets. Plus, since they're out in the sun they're tan as all get out and have a sweet innocence to them from their Amish upbringing. Of course much like in real life, not all of them are certified hotties, but damn if when you find one you're not wishing it was Rumspringa and you could get 'em wasted and get your man-rape on Jason Stackhouse style.
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| Shave dat face then I take the one on the right wit exposed coochie |
If you're still not sure what the hell I'm blabbing on about, Rumspringa is the time between 18-21 where Amish billz and grillz get to "Go English" and wear, do, drink, smoke, and fuq whatever the hell they want to get it out of their system (and all over your face)... at the end of this time, they can choose to continue living their life English and be shunned and outcast by their family and community forever (lovely), or they can decide to get back in the overalls and long johns and remain an Amish peep for life (lovely?)... either way I'm pink thinging out for these doods like a dog at a leg-humping festival.
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| Work it, Jedidiah! I see that bone line in ur pants. |
It all comes down to the innocence these boiz have that makes me want to steal said innocents over a naked nether nomming sesh, and that might make me a devil or whatever, but I like my menz bashful and modest yet with a secret hotness/freak beneath the taped together glasses and high water pants. So long ween-drip short, the reason I'm Jelly of these dudes is cuz they simply exist and get hotter with every day, yet they don't even realize it... yet in my case I simply exist and get fatter with every day, yet I DO realize it (and so do small children).
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| Were I a goat I'd like where this is going. But I ain't so I'm skiddish. |
In Shammation... in addition to the fact hat the little bonnet wearing bitches get all the Diesel Cut Amish peen they want from 18-21 slash life, I'm also jelly of said DCABoiz tight little well-chiseled asses, and I'm bitter that I can't get an invite to bone said WCA, and I'm angry because no matter how hard I try, I'm too lazy and therefore never gonna move to a farm and milk shit just to be as hot as them... and so it's all Shambles, but it's also all AngryBitter and Jelly.
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