Thursday, September 29, 2011

Dude on Craigslist Explains How to be a Catch

The emails are starting to dry up at I'm Not Really a Barista. So instead of my usual unqualified relationship/sex advice, this Thursday I decided to take another trip to the personals Craigslist. Take a little looksie at this gem.

Man, oh, man, who knew Steve Harvey was hanging out on Craigslist doling out advice on how to be the best vagina-haver ever. I mean, I really appreciate this fine young gentleman giving me tips on how to make a fella happy, but I have a couple small issues with his suggestions.

1. Craigslist Guy suggests that I should be a lady in public AT ALL TIMES, because men value virtue. By virtue, I'm going to assume he means tits... men value tits. And what do ladies have? Yep, you guessed it, boobies. So to be a "lady in public at all times" actually means, reveal so much of your breasts that you are literally on the verge of getting arrested every time you go outside.

2. Second, only to showing your girly-pillows, is being a master chef because "guys like to eat." Hmm... I hope he likes Hot Pockets, because I can microwave the shit out of a Hot Pocket.

3. Alright, Craigslist Guy, I wanted to take you seriously, but I can't respect someone giving relationship advice on a site best known for 12-year-old hookers if they make careless typos. Everyhting? Really? And to think I was going to be a TOTAL slut for you!

Thanks a lot random CL dude. I'm always looking for ways to make myself more desirable to the opposite sex, especially when it comes from someone undoubtedly living in his parents' basement.

Have fun playing World of Warcraft!

P.S. If you're looking for real unqualified advice from someone who has actually touched another human being, email me at You will remain anonymous!

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

I Love Occupying Wall Street

While I've been making coffee and watching "Keeping up with the Kardashians," I guess a bunch of folks stormed NYC's financial district in hopes to #OccupyWallStreet, and by occupy I mean "block traffic and get beat by police" on Wall Street.

So far, the peaceful demonstration seems to be going well. There's a lot of clever chanting and marching, which I'm sure is really pissing of those corporate pigs. I bet they're breaking out their copy of "The Communist Manifesto," and crying into their $100 bills, while Marx waxes poetically about the class struggle between the proletariat and the bourgeoisie.

Yeah, we're showing those fuckers. 

Wait ... what happened?

Oh. No. They. Didn't. 

It's time to bring some hood to Lower Manhattan.




Sunday, September 25, 2011

Dear Customers, Stop Being So Fucking Paranoid

I've been trying to avoid blogging about my job, because I'm pretty sure no one actually cares that making drinks for inbred hicks who couldn't spell macchiato if you put a gun to their head, makes me want to gauge my eyes out every single day. But some things just need to be addressed.

Dear Paranoid Customer, 

Why are you so weird about giving me your name for your cup? Seriously? I am asking for your first name, not your Social Security Number for christ's sake. Hell, you don't even have to give me your real name. You can make some shit up. I have literally written the name Glitter Dick on a cup, and it was incredible.

I understand that you feel some right to privacy. And that you are already on edge, because you are spending an exorbitant amount of money on something you feel you could do yourself, but please understand where I am coming from. All of the cups are placed in the same area and look identical for the most part, so when a cup is sat down without some identifiable feature it makes it easy for that cup to get taken by someone else. You know what that means? IT MEANS I HAVE TO REMAKE THAT FUCKING DRINK! And doing that 150 times a day makes me want to lace people's drinks with pubic hair.

Listen, I have no problem with you being paranoid. I get it. I think everyone is out to kill me. My level of paranoia is usually reserved for people who watch "The X-Files" and believe the Obama presidency is a Muslim conspiracy, but even I will give someone my name. BECAUSE IT IS JUST A FUCKING NAME! 

Now repeat after me, the next time I go into a store that provides handcrafted, caffeinated beverages and a barista, who is in no way responsible for the price of my latte, asks for my name, I will give it to him/her. Because they put up with enough shit without me sucking my teeth and rolling my eyes at a simple request.

Okay? Thanks a bunch.

Love always,

Your Barista

Wow! I feel better. Thanks for letting me get that off my chest. Now enjoy this video by my new hero. He was fired after this video went viral. On an unrelated note, I just want to reiterate that I do not work for any specific coffee company. Nope. Just one of the millions. 

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Help! Female Anatomy is Super Confusing

Dear Allie, 
I hate to use your advice column for such an obscure question but it is something that has perplexed me for a long time. I see a lot of women walking around who have the ability to wear their pants so low that it leaves you wondering, "where is her vagina?!?”
I came across this photo on Facebook (not mine so it might want to be cropped if actually used on your site) and I was equally impressed and intrigued at her anatomy... please take a look for yourself!
As you can see, the bellybutton is in place and then there is about a foot or so of body before her pants start. So I ask you, where is her vagina?

Vexed by Vag

Thanks for the question Vexed, I want to let you know there is no question too obscure for this advice wizard... lady wizard? witch? Whatever. They're all welcome. Unless you want to talk about some "2 Girls and a Cup" type stuff, because, well, that's just gross. 

Anyways, after throughly observing this photo, I have come to a conclusion. 

This woman is obviously vagina-less. Yep, you heard me right ... vagina-less. I'm going to assume that she wasn't born without a vagina, but rather had her vagina removed in an act of cosmetic surgery. (Why else would they be pointing at it?)

Now I know what you're thinking, "Why in the heck would anyone get their gosh darn hoo-ha removed?" To which I'll reply, "Good question!" and after that positive feedback I'll explain why I believe this woman chose to have her vagina removed.

You see, Vexed, women are constantly fucking around with their lady bits. They wax it, bejewel it, surgically alter it, get "open for business" tattooed on it after a messy breakup (just me???) and now they are getting the pesky thing removed. Young women are constantly striving for perfection and the vagina will not be ignored. We have been mutilating the shit out of our vag for years in hopes to make it more beautiful. And who is the archetype of beauty and femininity? 


And what doesn't Barbie have?

A vagina. 

Case closed. 

XOXO Allie

If after reading this, you think you're fucked up enough to appear in this blog, write me at or on Twitter @AllieOopsie. You will remain anonymous!

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Things I Learned from the Charlie Sheen Roast

Last night, Comedy Central aired its much-anticipated Charlie Sheen roast. Sure it's been a couple months since Sheen went completely fucking crazy and took over every aspect of media, but that doesn't mean that we still can't appreciate a good hooker joke at a famous person's expense. (Sheen apparently loves whores. Who knew, right?)

Anywho, while watching the roast, I couldn't help but think that Mike Tyson must literally be killing thousands of women every day, but after that, I had another thought. What am I learning from watching pseudo-celebrities bash a horribly addicted coke-addict who has snorted more money than I will ever see even if I started giving $1,000 blowjobs tomorrow? Oh, well, since you asked...

What I Learned from the Charlie Sheen Roast

1. Mike Tyson, besides being a serial killer, is a poet laureate. Just take a looksie at this verbal gem.

This wife-beating cokehead,
Complains he's some rockstar from Mars.
Man, if you were black, you'd be behind bars.
Which is bullshit, you know, because I'm the greatest poet alive
I'm the greatest wordsmith ever.
I'm Robert Frost.
I'm Lord Byron.
My verses are impetuous.
My rhymes are impregnable.
I wanna eat your children.

We get it, Mike. Babies are tasty.

2. Brooke Mueller, Charlie's ex-wife who he held at knife-point, thinks Charlie's shenanigans are fucking hilarious. The camera spent about 50 percent of the time panning to Mueller, who was literally gasping for air, and not because Charlie was choking her for once.

Don't worry, Brooke. I think domestic violence is a hoot, too!

3. Patrice O'Neal has diabetes. Bummer.

4. White people don't know who Richard Pryor is, which cements into fact something I've always suspected. I am actually black.

5. Steve-O is a comedian now. Bummer.

6. Kate Walsh may in fact think she is a doctor, but that's okay, because I would totally let her give me a pap smear.

7. Amy Schumer is a funny bitch, and is now under fire for a Ryan Dunn joke. Come on people, it's a roast. We can make fun of Amy Winehouse, but not Dunn. He drove drunk and crashed, he did not have childhood leukemia. Fucking relax.

8. Jeffrey Ross' face is melting, and he might be a Nazi or something.

9. People think Seth MacFarlane is gay, because he likes show tunes and voices the sexually-confused infant on Family Guy. He is also an impeccable dresser and talks like he has a penis in his throat.

I just don't see it.

10. Charlie Sheen is a pretty funny guy. It's a shame that a shit-ton of bad behavior has made him a characeteur of himself. #Winning #Warlocking #RockStarFromMars #BatshitCrazyFromSyphilis

On a slightly unrelated note, if you want a good laugh or masturbation sessions, visit former-goddess Bree Olson's Twitter account. Do it quick, before she asphyxiates after one of her many bukkake scenes.

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Help! Snooki is Making Me Feel Sexually Inadequate

Okay so I have more of a question than a problem. Snooki the little meatball from the MTV show "Jersey Shore" is always talking about "sucking butt" is this just a saying or are there really self-respecting females out there sucking butt? Now don't get me wrong, I will give a bj and lick your balls, hell, I will even kiss or nibble your taint, but I will under no circumstance "suck your butt." So my question is: Is this just a funny saying or is the newest sex craze "baby I can't wait to suck your butt" because if it is I'm afraid that I can no longer call myself open minded in bed.

Suck Your.... What?!?!?!?

I'm not. 

Snooki is.

I don't know which one you should trust when it comes to all your asshole-sucking expectations. I mean, she's got a book, a TV show and probably many pre-cancerous moles, and all I have is a blog. Plus, I'm positive she has banged more dudes than I have. Maybe we should all just take sex advice from Snooki.

But then again, the ol' Snookster is the color of a dirty penny and answers to the name Snooki, so maybe she doesn't make the best life decisions. So, I decided to bring in another opinion. Enter: My best friend.

My best friend is a complete sexual deviant (you would think her father didn't love her or something) and she's not doing it, so I don't think it has quite hit the mainstream. But I would get yourself prepared, SWS, because once it's on MTV it's not long before everyone is doing it. 

How does one get prepared for Anallingus, you ask...

Step 1. Vote Republican*

That's really the only step. Those silly bastards seem to love the asshole. See: Roberto Arango.

* Please don't actually vote Republican. Thanks.

XOXO Allie

P.S. If after reading this, you think you're fucked up enough to appear in this blog, write me at or on Twitter @AllieOopsie. You will remain anonymous!

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Madonna Still Hates Hydrangeas, and I Still Hate Madonna

Last week, video surfaced of a fan giving the Madonna (the frozen-faced pop star, not the mother of Christ) a bouquet of hydrangeas. The miked ladydouche, who is still punking us all into believing she's an innovator, smiled, set the gift aside, and then bashed flowers.

"I absolutely loathe hydrangeas." 

As to be expected, people went a little ape-shit bashing the singer (and not just for casually using the word loathe) but for being an ungrateful supercunt. In a move of PR or an attempt at humor, she posted a video to her YouTube account yesterday apologizing to the flower for all the damage she's done.

Hahahaha... Madonna you are one silly bitch, but maybe instead of apologizing to the flowers, you should have apologized to the fan who was trying to be thoughtful.

Oh, and one more thing, I still hate you! I will always hate you! It's a free country! So fuck you, I like Lady Gaga.

Saturday, September 10, 2011

Hooker with a Heart of Play-Doh

Ever seen Toddlers and Tiaras? Heard about it? No. Well, good for you. You obviously do productive things with your life. I bet you read and think reality tv is beneath you. Move along now. This blog is not for you.

Okay now that the pretentious douchenozzle is gone, we can get real! Did you hear about the the little girl on Toddlers and Tiaras whose mom dressed her up like Julia Roberts in "Pretty Woman?"

How adorable is that shit? I just want to shove dollar bills in her thigh-high pleather boots, but then ultimately rescue her from a life of slinging punani on Hollywood Boulevard. I want to take her to a polo match, watch as she retardly tries to eat snails, I want to take her to the opera and walk barefoot in the grass with her. 

But then I want to let her go, because it would never work. I mean, I'm a mediocre barista/blogger and she's a wily toddler of the night. But it would be a mistake. Big mistake, huge!

You see, I could never let her go. She broke my guard down. Made me love her. So, I'll go to her slum-motel with a dozen rosens, and I'll rescue her from that life, and you know what, she'll rescue me right back.

I'm going to go compose myself now. While I'm gone, watch this video.

Goddammit, someone give this little whore the crown.

Thursday, September 8, 2011

Help! Sheets are Expensive

Allie hi!
I have been with this guy I am extremely attracted to but I have never came. I fake it or make him stop because I don't want to orgasm. I am very embarrassed because I am a squirter or more of a gusher. When I masturbate I have to change my sheets. It's gross, I know but I can't help it. I am very embarrassed because the first time I had an orgasm my highschool bf was going down on me and he accused me of pissing on his face!! I was mortified and I haven't let myself orgasm with a guy since! I feel like nobody would want to be with me if I told them and it's not like when it's getting all hot and heavy I can be like "hey by the way if I orgasm and u get all wet it's ok I didn't pee pinky promise!" What should I do? I really like this guy and I want to enjoy the sex as much as he does but I don't want to scare him off!
Southern Squirter

Umm...well... I'm out. I shall leave this one up to my just-as-unqualified readers. Let SS know what she should do in the comments.

Fuck, I need to go to church. 

XOXO Allie

If after reading this, you think you're fucked up enough to appear in this blog, write me at or on Twitter @AllieOopsie. You will remain anonymous!

We Salute You Jay

I guess Jay, an "uptight queen barrista [sic]" in NYC, did something to piss off Alec Baldwin. Baldwin then decided to get on Twitter and put his barista on blast.

Wow, Jay, what did you do to make the mild-mannered 30-Rock star mad at you?

Well, whatever it was, I only have one thing to say to you...

Did you ever know that you're my hero? You're everything I wish I could be.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

I Love a Jihad Against Rick Santorum

Jihad means holy war? I thought it
meant sweaty, anal sex party. Nevermind.
Recently, uber-douchebag, bigot, and presidential-hopeful Rick Santorum said that the LGBT community has "gone out on a jihad" against him. Santorum believes that because Dan Savage and his readers have made his name synonymous with a by-product of anal sex, the gay community has gone all holy war on him.

Sure, Santorum compared homosexuality to bestiality and gay marriage to a napkin, but what's the big deal. Napkins are useful and my dog just got anally finger-banged by his groomer. Chill out.

So, I'm here to tell Mr. Santorum that I'm behind him 100 percent ... with a strap-on and a bottle of Astroglide ready to create a frothy, frothy mix.

Santorum 2012. Fuck yeah.

Monday, September 5, 2011

Foam is the Leading Cause of Arson

Once upon a time in a coffee shop a customer ordered a no-foam latte. The following ensued...

Barista: Here is your no-foam latte.

Customer: This has no foam?

Barista: Yes ma'am. A no-foam latte.

Customer: So milk to the top?

Barista: Yep.

Customer: And no foam?

Barista: It is a no-foam latte.

Customer: Are you sure?

Barista: I'm positive. I just made it.

Customer: So, milk to the top?

Barista: I'm going to set your house on fire.

Sunday, September 4, 2011

Because All Women Want to be Strippers

In my last post I talked about the rape-in-the-making situation known as Passion Parties. Since then, I've found something even better than the fake-dick Tupperware party.

Enter: Pole Parties.

Yep, ladies are now shelling out top dollar to grind themselves on a pole like a runaway. This seems like a really great idea. I mean, sure, some girls are going to cry because it reminds them of all the times their stepdads wanted to play "Dance for Fake Daddy," but thats okay, nothing a box of wine won't cure.

So come on ladies, bring a corset, some thigh-highs and all your deep-rooted self-esteem issues to my house next Saturday and we'll prove to all our ex-boyfriends that we were worthy of love by dry-humping a portable pole.

The book makes you look smart, but the stockings
make you look like you do webcam porn.

On a for real note girls, if anyone thinks that this is a good idea, please go to the closest non-sexual male in your life and make him tell you he's proud of you. 

Jesus, they're going to stop letting us vote if we keep doing this shit.

Thursday, September 1, 2011

I'll Take my Party Minus the Passion

She's not winking. She has
cinnamon lube in her eye.
I'm taking this Thursday off from giving unqualified relationship/sex advice to write about a trend I've noticed lately. Does anyone know what a Passion Party is?

For those who have been spared from this shit and have no clue what I'm talking about, I'll give you the CliffNotes version. It's like Tupperware parties, except with fake dicks, instead of burpable plastic containers. Yep, it is as horrible as it sounds.

However, these Passion Party people are not in the business to make this completely skeevy activity seem skeevy... No, they want it to sound fun and sexy. They make it appear like some Sex-and-the-City-esque adventure that will involve drinking cosmos and trying on nipple clamps. But in all actuality, it involves drinking Arbor Mist out of Nascar tumblers in someone's doublewide trailer, while some pushy bitch on commission tries to make you by a 12" double-ended dildo in front of your sister-in-law. And no one needs a 12" double-ended dildo. It's just wasteful.

Now I'm going to say something that may make me sound slightly judgmental, (because before this, I seemed like the beacon acceptance) but I've never actually attended a Passion Party. So in all fairness, my views are based on second-hand accounts, but I don't think I need to go sit in a room with a bunch of  my co-workers, while I peruse clitoral stimulation cream, to know that it would be a no-likey situation.

She couldn't cross her legs tighter.
My best friend who is possibly the most sexually-open person I've ever met (An example you ask... she recently divulged to me that she has given and received a golden shower, believe me now?) explained that she felt that her vagina was compromised during these parties. Like at any moment, one of these frustrated soccer moms was going to furry handcuff her to a bed and shove a zebra-print ballgag in her mouth.

So why am I writing this? Well, I'm sick of being asked to these fucking parties. Just because I talk about blowies on the internet, does not mean that I want to watch anyone try on a One Size Fits All thong. I will not go. I'm wise to you, passion party ladies. I don't want to buy a vibrating rubber ducky from you in someonse's living room. Nor, do I want to fake an orgasm When-Harry-Met-Sally-style, while someone whose name I don't remember takes an iPhone video. No Thanks.

Call me a prude, but I like to keep my passion where it belongs... hidden in my nightstand drawer.

You're kidding me, right?

This is her second book. I'm going to go throw myself out a window now.