Currently Chasing: A Status Message DVR

The other day I logged on to Facebook and noticed that a couple of my ‘friends’ had deactivated their accounts. I immediately texted them to ask…what’s up?

They both had the same answer. I’m too busy to care what other people are doing.

At first, I didn’t get it. But now, I totally do.

Log on at any given moment and travel over to news feed. There you have all 500 of your friends letting you know what they are doing at least one time a day. Some friends update two or three times a day. When I log on and begin reading status updates…after about twenty or thirty minutes I feel like I’ve got a good idea of what is going on with people. But when I look at when these updates were posted, they all say within the hour. So I’ve been reading for thirty minutes and I still only know what has been happening in the last hour. What about the hour before that? And the 16 before that. I’m so behind!!

I need a DVR for my friends’ status messages.

Then it’s the same conversation at work.

“Did you hear about so and so?”

“No, what’s going on?”

“She and her husband are getting a divorce.”

“How do you know?”

“She changed relationship status to, ‘fuck that cheating asshole.’”

I’ll tell you what I like about Facebook. I like that I can scan pictures of people I haven’t seen in a while and look at how they’ve changed. I like that I can keep up with a lot of people at my leisure. I like that I can get in touch with people relatively easily. And I like that I can bring up pictures of people that I’m talking shit about.

However, I always feel behind the curve when it comes to who owns what pet farm, who has what mafia and who is sending me whatever kind of crazy heart. I can’t keep up with that. I also can’t have a conversation with you in person, if every time I ask you a question, you ask me “Didn’t you see that on my facebook?”

No, I didn’t see that on your fucking Facebook. I’ve got like 600 friends (some I’ve added just because we’ve had friends in common, even though I don’t know who the fuck they are) and they are all doing important shit every second of the day and they’ve all got causes they want me to support and they’ve all got groups they want me to join, and they’ve all got a fuck lotta time on their hands.

There are those days though, that I’m bored to shit and have literally gone back through days of status updates. And it’s there I learn that my best friend bought a house. And it’s there I learn that my brother’s girlfriend gave birth. And it’s there that I can see the pictures. And it’s fucking Facebook where I find out that people are divorcing and adopting children and actually living.

And yep, a couple of days later even my two friends had reactivated their accounts. It’s a scary thing when we stop compulsively over sharing. And when no one ‘likes’ that we ‘called it an early night and went to bed.’

However, I still don’t give a shit.

Currently Chasing: Big black Jack

Over the years I’ve gotten a lot of autographs. I used to carry around a little autograph book. Inside I had Alan Thick’s signature, Billy Huffy from Fame, Greg from the Brady Bunch, a couple other random models and wannabees, and the coveted Knight Rider’s KIT Car tire print. But today I got an autograph that I’ll never forget, from a guy I’m sure I’ve seen, but could only recognize in a line-up of cock.

When this guy sends pictures of his dick. He means to.

He is related to a current student of mine. It’s his brother; Porn Star, Jack Napier. If you haven’t heard of him, then Google him. He has won consecutive awards for Best Interracial Series with his hit, “It’s Big. It’s Black. It’s Jack.”

He also did some of his best work in “Black Bottom Girls,” “Jack on Blondes” and “There’s Something About Jack.”

I somehow still doubted the validity of this guy, but he’s got his own page on IMDb. The dude is legit. And according to one website, he has the biggest dick in Porn. I didn’t actually get to meet him, or his cock, which I’m disappointed about, because who doesn’t want to walk around saying, “I met the biggest dick in porn!”

However, when I returned from lunch there was a gift for me. No, it wasn’t a dick in a box. But it was a picture. Of Jack Napier. With clothes on. Shame. However, it was signed.

It is now, and will remain the best autograph I’ve ever gotten. The biggest dick in porn wrote what follows:

“To the best lover I’ve ever known. Jenna’s got nothing on you!” Jack.

And there you go. From one pro to another.

Currently Chasing: Linda Chavez

Who is Linda Chavez? Wouldn’t you like to know? Chances are if you’ve heard of her, you’re in some deep shit. She is a social media butterfly. She spends a lot of time on her computer. She is a master at pulling information from people. She is also a fictional character made up by my friend J, and used to bust cheating lovers.

I thought I was good at coming up with master plans to get my guys to confess their lies. But Linda Chavez is just as good…maybe better.

J came up with this idea after she had an inkling that her man was cheating. He had deployed to Iraq and they were in constant contact. He was always complaining about how sad and lonely he was, so she set up this incredible date pending his return. But a funny thing happened when he did return. He all of a sudden DIDN’T return her calls. In fact, what J did get was an ear full from some broad asking why J was calling HER man.

When J finally got a hold of this douche bag she confronted him. He told her it was some chick named Sapphire and that she was … crazy. Only, he hadn’t even seen crazy yet.

J went into full on detective mode. She knew this chick was in the military and that her first name was sapphire. She started typing random things into Google. Somehow she found what she thought was this woman’s ex husband. So she developed an email account under the name Linda Chavez and she went to work.

She emailed the ex husband claiming to be a close friend. A few days later Sapphire sent her an email asking who she was and why she was trying to reach her. ‘Linda’ right away gave her the business.

“What’s going on with you and my boyfriend,” Linda wrote.

“Your boyfriend!?” Sapphire shot back. We’ve been together for a year!

Turns out they were dating each other during his deployment and even had plans to get married. Lucky girl right?

“I don’t believe you,” Linda wrote.

“Here’s a picture of us together. Do you believe me now? Besides, maybe I don’t believe you! Send me a picture,” Sapphire insisted.

So Linda sent her a picture of said dudes COCK. Yep. Sapphire had definitely seen that cock before. In fact, she had the same photo. And both girls finally believed they were getting played.

So when Sapphire confronted her man with this Linda Chavez character, he was completely honest when he said he didn’t know her, which only made him look like more of a douche.

“She sent me a fucking photo of your cock asshole!”

“I swear I don’t know how she got that. I don’t even know a Linda fucking Chavez,” he pleaded.
And for once, he wasn’t lying. But by then, it didn’t matter.

“It’s over,” Sapphire screamed.

After the breakup he rushed home to J. She was happy to have her man back, although I use the term man loosely.

Later, the same guy decides to get a MySpace account. J sees that he has one, but he continues to deny that it exists. She also sees that some random girl keeps posting to it about how much fun she had with him. So Linda Chavez jumps back into action.

Linda opens up a MySpace account and contacts this girl.

“How do you know my boyfriend?”

“What…you’re boyfriend? Oh no, he told me he was single. I’m a dumb bitch…bla, bla, bla.”

This idiot even tells “Linda” that they had sex and he came all over her back. I’m still waiting for the ‘why was that necessary’ fairy to jump out of the closet and beat this chick to death with a dick.

Eventually J does the right thing and breaks up with this guy. She was young and dumb, but had finally had enough. She begins dating another man. She hears through the grape vine that he may not be all he’s cracked up to be. Back on Google she goes. And out comes Linda Chavez.

The moral of this story is simple. Stop sending out random photos of your cock to be used as evidence against you.

Currently Chasing: Non-Cons

I’m not an advocate of confrontation. I don’t enjoy it. I get embarrassed easily when it comes to situations where people are getting confronted or called on their behavior. It’s something that’s been with me all my life. It’s why I learned to tell jokes. It’s why I’m a nice person even when people don’t deserve for me to be. It’s why I’ve learned to be a good mediator. And it’s most likely why I get walked on by most of my boyfriends. I learned this trait from my mother, who is so non-confrontational that she won’t even answer the damn phone.

It’s been a problem since I was a teenager. I would babysit my brothers and they would fight. I couldn’t stand the confrontation. Once I just wrapped window shutter cords around both of their necks and told them that if they didn’t stop fighting I’d leave them there until they suffocate. This was probably not a good way to handle a tense situation. What I’m telling you here is that I go to EXTREME measures to avoid confrontation.

It seems though, that I befriend and also date the most confrontational people in the world. One of my best friends makes it her job to call out every single dumb ass in the world. We were at a bar once and this guy was trying to talk to me. She leaned over and told him that we weren’t going to a part of whatever miscarriage he had going on. GEEZUS! Then he asked what the D on my necklace stood for, and before I could tell him, she leaned over and said DYKE. We are together. Go the fuck away.

And with that, he did. I said damn girl, did you have to be so mean? She responded with, he’s Canadian, if you aren’t rude to them they will stick around all night. And they are bad tippers. This is the same girl who worked for me at one point and when I asked her not to eat in the office, she told me to suck a fat dick. And there you go. My friends.

So last night I’m at a movie with a guy friend and we are watching Kick Ass. Great flick by the way. The movie is all about confrontation. Now, occasionally my seat will get kicked when I’m in a theater, but I do my best to ignore it. And sometimes there will be a crying baby, or a loud eater, or God Forbid, a texter, and I just let it go. But last night the people behind us decided to kick my friend’s seat. And this is a guy who LIVES for confrontation. He once got cut off by someone on the freeway, and instead of just going on with his life, he sped up, got in front of the car, and then slowed down to a snail’s pace. When the car tried to pass again, he sped up…then would slow down. He did this for AN HOUR! He also refused to let a car merge once. He made it his mission to keep this guy from merging. So much so that the guy was literally yelling out the window that he was going to fucking kill us. I was in the passenger side pretending not to hear. Meanwhile my guy friend was in the driver‘s side with his middle finger out telling the guy to suck a fat dick. What is this fascination with fat dicks all of a sudden?

Anyway, back to the movie. So he gets kicked. I see him turn around…I grab his knee. He knows I hate him being confrontational. He turns back around and enjoys the movie. He gets kicked again, he turns around and says, WTF? I grab his knee. He turns back around to enjoy the movie. The third time he stands up, turns around and says, kick my seat again and I’m gonna kick your ass. He sits back down…he can hear them all talking…he turns and says, I’ll beat the shit out of all of you. I am steady pretending to enjoy my popcorn. It’s NOT working. I want to just go back there and apologize and tell them that he doesn’t mean it. That he’s just had a long day. I want to defuse the situation, but I don’t. I just sit there.

At the end of the movie I glance behind us. He did a very good job of confronting them. And trust me, those three little girls will never kick another seat.

Currently Chasing: Grooming Standards

Obviously I’ve been on more than a few dates and have seen more than my share of ‘situations.’ And by situations, I mean penises.

And being a girl in the locker room I’ve also seen far too many female nests. And by nests, I mean fucking crazy ass rat nests. I once roomed with this girl who we dubbed tumblebush. It was more than just a tumble weed. Trust me on that. She would walk around the room naked…but it didn’t matter…she was completely shielded by her super-powered bush. She ended up with an STD, which was only funny because ‘burning bush’ was a funnier nickname.

But these days it seems like shaving everything is the way to go. Girls are taking that shit down to bald. Me personally, I’m a fan of no hair. On females anyway. Someone once said that girls who shave down to the skin are encouraging their men to become pedophiles. Really? Me shaving my snatch might make my man want to touch 10 year olds? I think if there were facts to back that up someone would have already outlawed razors.

But I do wonder what amount of cropping, trimming and shaving is warranted.

A friend of mine sent me this text recently:

Him: “Hey, so I’m thinking about trimming myself a bit all over. Is that gay?”

Me: “Just trimming right? You’re not thinking about shaving all your hair off your body are you?”

Him: “No, just trimming it up.”

Me: “No, that’s not gay. It’s just considerate. And P.S. I think you could walk around with a cock in your mouth and not look gay, just saying.”

On the other hand, I had a friend who wouldn’t think of trimming or shaving or anything. He would even send random naked pics of himself in full fur. I once turned in one of them as a big foot sighting and it is probably in text books as I type this.

Then you have the guys who full on shave every single hair on their body. Those guys who think that by shaving all of the hair around their penis it’s somehow going to make their dick look bigger. And it might. Make it look bigger that is, but it won’t ever, ever make it actually bigger, so who cares.

A friend of mine who recently spent some time with some guys in the 18-20 age range mentioned that even young guys are grooming themselves more than ever. When did this become a thing? When I was growing up guys weren’t concerned with how they looked under thier clothes. They didn’t go tanning, they didn’t pluck their eyebrows, and they definitely didn’t shave their balls. But now an untrimmed crotch is a sure sign of virginity. Or at least a sure sign that you haven’t been laid in a long while. Or possibly an indicator that you don’t plan on getting laid for awhile.

Or it could just mean you’re married.

Either way the world seems to be paying way too much attention to how they present their genitals, and not nearly enough attention on how they present themselves. If you can carry on a conversation, commit to me and make me laugh, I’d overlook the clogged drains any day. And wouldn't mind gagging on a strand or 12.

Currently Chasing: Coincidence

Have you ever met a person in such extremely strange circumstances, that you just feel like no matter what happens, you are drawn to them? Yeah, me neither. But let me tell you this story anyway.

One night about three or four years ago I went out to what used to be called Bar Baltimore. It was a group of us girls. We were showing up early for a huge adult-toy party (adult barbies and adult speak and spells…that kind of thing. Or fake dicks.) I was there with a few of my besties. We had also invited my ex husbands ex wife and his (at the time) fiancé. What could go wrong?

So toward the middle of the night I’m feeling like crap. My ex husbands ex wife was already remarried and anxious to get back to her hubby. My ex husbands current fiancé was eager to get back to my ex husband as well. So there it is, in all its glory, alcohol and loneliness.

Just then a friend walks up and introduces me to her friend. I’m attracted to him right away. But let’s face it, I would have been attracted to just about anything in that moment. In fact, I had been chatting up a fake dick for an hour. So anyway, we end up dancing and talking the rest of the night and within a week, he’s my man.

Now in typical relationship fashion, we begin telling each other all about our ex’s. Turns out he has one douche bag of an ex girlfriend, who just happens to live one street over from me at the time. He said she was dating another guy, but started cheating on that guy with him. Then later in their relationship she started cheated on him with that same other guy. Classic case of ‘have cake, eat cake.’ We’ve all been there. I ask how he found out and he says that she left her email open and saw about 150 emails back and forth and called her on it. And that was the end of it.

So after four or five months he and I ended our love affair. Turns out he was getting kicked out of the Marine Corps and there was some shadiness surrounding why he was getting kicked out and my friends advised me to just cut ties and not get involved. So I did.

A few months later one of my best friends starts long-distance dating a guy on a ship in Virginia. She’s happy as hell with her new pen pal. I tell her to tell her ‘man’ to find me a pen pal on the ship. He says he knows just the person. A few days later I get an email and a photo. A nice looking, tall and SINGLE guy. Wow, I thought they were myths.

We start emailing back and forth and agree to meet up once he pulls back in port. So a week after he pulls in, I’m heading down to Virginia. On my way he calls to talk me through the road trip. And we start talking about, what else…Ex’s.

He tells me this story about this girl he was dating. She started cheating on him with some guy and then ended up cheating on that guy with him. She couldn’t make up her mind. Classic case of ‘have cake, eat cake.’ I tell him that my ex was a great guy, and that he had a similar story to that. I also mention that we broke up because of his shady release from the Marines. We keep talking…him about her, and me about him.

“What is your ex boyfriend’s name?” He asks.

“Why, he lives in Maryland, it’s not like you know him,” I respond.

“Just for shits and giggles,” he replies back.

So I tell him...and there is dead silence before I hear.

“OH MY GOD, That is the same FUCKING guy!”

“No way,” I say.

“I don’t know what’s worse, going before him, or going after him,” he snaps back.

“Should I just turn around?” I ask.

“No, but you have to admit it’s weird.”

Yeah…I’ll admit it. And it was weirder the first time he drove to my house and had to drive past hers to get there.

One day one of his friends said, isn’t it weird that this other girl keeps popping up in your life…maybe she’s your soul mate.

I beg to differ. It’s my life this bitch keeps popping up in. I feel like I should actually know this heart breaker. Cause I’ve been cleaning up her messes for years.

Currently Chasing: Porn-Free Hopes and Dreams

So my friend has a great blog about music and things of that nature. He used to post pretty often, but recently he has slowed down. A lot. Basically dead stop. I asked him the other day why he never blogs anymore. His answer was simple. Porn.

Every time he turns on his computer. There it is. The opportunity to surf porn. He never makes it to a blog. Why would he. There’s porn. Who can find their way to a blog when with a simple stroke of the keys (pun intended) you can be watching some girl get fisted? Blog who?

And it got me thinking. How much more could people accomplish if there was a porn-free internet? How many more hopes and dreams would be realized. How many mothers could sleep at night knowing their sons aren’t ‘accidentally’ type boobies into Google, just to see what will come up? And how many fathers would simply sleep, instead of accessing porn into the wee hours of the night.

It’s like going to a restaurant that is famous for ribs and ordering fish. Why are you having the fish? Because I always have the fish. But this place is famous for ribs, please try the ribs. I can’t see past the fisting. I mean fish. Fuck.

My ex was addicted to porn. It didn’t even matter what kind of porn it was. And he would sit on the couch and watch it on his laptop during commercials. He was fully clothed. It wasn’t even that the porn turned him on. He just liked to watch it. Kind of like playing solitaire. Only girls are getting cum shots in the eye and dudes are in the shower shooting water babies all over some chick’s ass.

There was even a brief time when I was addicted to it. I would literally watch whatever was on the front page of porn hub. I watched 15 minutes of a really chunky woman and her anorexic boyfriend. Why? I mean, I’m not a better person for having watched, let me assure you. But is it any different than going on Hulu and watching an old episode of The Office. It’s all entertainment right? Or at least that’s what we tell ourselves.

Actually, porn is a farce. Lesbians aren’t usually THAT beautiful. It’s not normal for girls to bleach the skin between their butt cheeks. Standing up isn’t a super comfortable, long term sexual position. No one enjoys anal THAT much. And friends don’t always come over and instantly join your happy hour.

Let’s start identifying porn for what it really is. Quite simply, sex with yourself.

Currently Chasing: A Mentee

Ok, so I’m back to a question I’ve wondered about over and over for quite some time. How young is too young?

The other day my brother came to visit. He is 21. We went in to the Olive Garden (or the OG as I like to call it) and I went right up to the counter and put my name down for two people. She looked at my brother, and back at me, and then said, “right this way.”

Ok, hold the fucking menus! Did she just size us up as a couple? Does she think I’m fucking dating this guy? And then it hit me. The only reason I’m so outraged is because I’m related to him. This could easily be Mr. Bob Evans, or Mr. Wawa, or even a mystery mister I’ve been chatting up recently. But it’s not, it’s my brother, and in my mind, that’s the only thing that made it wrong. And I’m not sure if that’s right.

Take my recent conversation with 24-year-old Bob Evans for example. (This is a text conversation so I copied it word for word.):

Me: Are you working? We are thinking about coming there for lunch.

Him: Yea, don’t bother today. I’m sick n I look like shit n most importantly my voice is cracking n fading. I can’t believe they r still making me work cause I def sound like shit.

Me: We still want to come there despite your inability to talk.

Him: Fuck that. I didn’t shave, my hair looks like shit n we’re busy so I couldn’t even really talk, not that you could hear me neways!! Just see me early next wk when hopefully this shits gone. Plzzzzzz!!

Me: Geezus! Ok. We’ll go to Dennys. I never knew my food choice would revolve around your hair.

Him: Well after Dennys ull enjoy the food here that much more. Try not to fuck your waiter tho. J

And there you have it. Young, dumb and full of smart ass shit.

I mean, some of the men I’ve dated even have facebook status messages that are too young for me.

“Just stuck a cheeto up my nose and am still kicking ass in call of duty. I rule.”

“New discovery. Conditioner is better for jerking off than baby oil. And it’s cheaper.”

“I just had to wipe vomit off my computer keyboard to type this status message.”

You get my point. I hear all the time that age is just a number. But come on. Is it really? My age isn’t just a number. It’s a stereotype. It’s a minute and a half addition to the allotted time on my company run. It’s a line here and a gray hair there. It’s weight and a very slow metabolism. It’s cynicism. It’s doubt. And for some reason these days, it seems to be a selling point.

And you know what, fuck it. And I’m growing tired of the word Cougar. I’m relabeling it with mentor. When I was 22 I was dating a guy who was 33. I loved him. I hated him. I cried with him. I laughed with him. I got engaged to him. I cheated on him. I left him. It’s only fair that I give that same opportunity to other lost 22 year olds in this world. So come here baby, let me get that cheeto out of your nose.

Currently Chasing: My Own Space

I flew to Buffalo this weekend. It’s cheap to fly there, it only takes an hour each way, and I’ve got family there. Win/Win/Win.

So I arrive to southwest to get my ticket and they ask if I want to upgrade to section A for $20 bucks. I decide to do it. This guarantees I’ll be one of the first on the plane, which means I’ll have room for my carry on (which I assure you holds no less than four outfits I won’t wear, workout gear I won’t need, three pairs of shoes I can’t walk in and enough accessories for Mr. T to take it up a notch.)

So they call section A and I line up near the front carrying my life in a bag. But when I look around I realize, there is only a section A. There are only 20 people on the whole flight. I paid $20 for nothing! Lose. I vow that I’ll make it up by claiming a seat right in the front. Not near the front, but literally the first seat. I get on the plane, store my shit, and sit down in the comfortable, leg roomy, first seat. And I’m content. Fuck that $20 bucks. Win.

And then it happens. A couple comes in, looks at all of the empty seats and decides to take a seat right next to me. To make matters worse they are having a ‘talk argument’ about how she emasculated him earlier by making him hold her purse.

“No I didn’t,” she said.

“Yes you did,” he said.

“I didn’t think I did,” she said.

“Well you did. But you didn’t know it, because that’s your personality,” he said.

It’s her personality not to know things? Then it got weirder.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t look at it like that,” she said.

“Well if someone else looked at it that way would that validate me and invalidate you?”

“Invalidate me?” she asked.

And by then I was asking (to myself as well) what the fuck he was trying to say. I mean, I could tell she was a rock, but he was trying to portray an over-your-head conversation and was making absolutely no sense, and she had called him on it. So he changed the subject, quickly.

“I’m reading this book and it talks about how the primary reason for condom failure is small penis size,” he said.

“I believe that,” she responded. “Probably Asians,” she added.

“Ignorant, but probably not completely inaccurate,” he responded.

And with that racism, they both shut up. Then I begin to hear something more annoying than their voices. A clipping noise. I look over to find her clipping the dead skin from around her fingernails. Twenty five minutes later she is still clipping. Get some lotion bitch! How much dead skin can one person have around their fingernails? And where is that dead skin going…into the air, into my nose! I’m inhaling this broad one clip at a time. At one point she cuts her nail and a clipping shoots right into my cheek. That sharp piece-of-a-bitches hand stung a bit. She says, I’m sorry. I don’t respond.

Her and her man begin to talk fight again. This time they are arguing about how they are not arguing. We land. They are still arguing. But now they are whisper yelling so as not to make a scene.

I see them at baggage claim minutes later. She’s still clipping her nails. And he’s holding her purse. I’m holding my tongue. There’s no way his dick fits a Condom.