Ke$ha Tries to Talk Me Into an Early Death.

I accidentally heard Ke$ha's new song on the radio.

It happened innocently enough. I was driving down the road listening to Ryan Seacrest talk about body glitter and the Kardashians when something horrible echoed from my speakers.

If skanks had a mating call, this is what it would sound like--meaning it could only be one person.

Ahh, Ke$ha. I immediately swerved my car into oncoming traffic, because who really wants to live in a world where Ke$ha is considered a worthwhile talent. That's when I heard it ...

We're Gonna Die Young. 

I straightened out my wheel because I'll be damned if Ke$ha tells me what to do. But it did get me thinking--is this what our kids  your kids  people are listening to? I mean, this bitch reminds me of shaved-head Britney, without all the sex appeal. Plus, she's riding on YOLO's coattails by encouraging 16 year olds to live like they're gonna die young.

And you know what that means ... Teen Mom: Season 35 sponsored by Valtrex.

See what you did, Ke$ha?! Life Ruiner!

I Still Hate Madonna: Part II

It's no secret me and Madonna got beef.

Okay ... I have beef, and she doesn't know who I am. But that doesn't make my disdain for the "singer" any less real--unlike whatever radioactive silly putty she's had shoved into her face to prevent her from looking like the Crypt Keeper.

Anyway, my holy war against Madonna obtained some backing Thursday night.

See, Madge got herself into a little bit of hot water (which must be nice change from the semen baths she's accustomed to) after pulling a fake revolver during a performance in Colorado. People complained that the use of the prop was irresponsible, considering the Colorado massacre that took place just three months ago.

Madonna's camp says that the media is making something out of nothing, and "there are always issues that people want to blame Madonna about."

Well, ain't that the truth! I choose to blame Madonna for climate change and Britney Spears' 2007 mental breakdown.

Now normally I err on the side of people need to stop being so sensitive, but since it's Madonna, she can go fuck herself. What do you think? Is Madonna a super bitch for pulling this stunt, or do people need to lighten up?

Either way, I think we can all enjoy this video of the Cabbage-Patch-faced singer tripping while performing "Like a Prayer."

Prayer answered!

Wanna Get Hammered While Pretending to Care about Foreign Policy?

The last presidential debate is tonight, and so far it's 1-1. You know what that means ...

• Any time Mitt reminds you of an entitled frat boy who majored in date rape. DRINK. Preferably some Mike's Hard Lemonade, or anything delicious that can easily conceal a roofie.

• Whenever Barack gives Mitt the side-eye like he'd love to go all "Southside Chicago" on his ass. DRINK. Maybe some Hennessy or some of that vodka that Diddy is always talking about.

• If at any moment during the debate you have a genuine fear that moderator Bob Schieffer has died on stage. DRINK. I suggest some NyQuil and just call it a night.

And that's it. Feel free to drink during the pauses, anytime you really wish they would just perform a duet of Endless Love, or whenever you feel a wash of relief that this is the last debate.

*Disclaimer: I'm Not Really a Barista is NOT RESPONSIBLE for any dumb shit you do while taking part in this drinking game. Have a lovely night.

Help! I Think I'm a Whore.

Allie,

I was listening to my favorite local morning radio show, and they were talking about a survey that indicated the ideal number of sex partners for men and women. What it boils down to, is that men and women both said 10 is the ideal number for their mate to have when they get married.

Now, I'm not super duper over the mark of 10, but I'm definitely past it. Aaaand I feel like a whore.

Mostly because I'm nowhere NEAR getting married or even engaged. And unless the guy I went on a date with Tuesday night turns out to be "the one," I will most likely date (and have sex with) an unknown number (who knows how many or few) men before I find that lucky bastard.

So what's a girl to do? Do I just stop having sex until I think I've found him? I mean, I like sex. What does the number matter? Do you really have to divulge that information when you're in a relationship? I've told before because I've been asked, but is my past really that important? Anyways, I'm feeling some kinda way about this, and I cant quite figure it out. Any thoughts would be appreciated.

Thanks,
Feeling Whore-ish


Stop reading my blog, you whore.

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Totally kidding.

What station are you listening to, Whore-ish? Is Rush Limbaugh on it, demonizing birth control and masturbating to The Food Network?

Personally, I hate the word whore. I much prefer the term penis connoisseur. That ish sounds fancy, like you went to one semester at Le Cordon Bleu to learn what type of wine goes with a side of trouser snake. And that's a fine skill to have.

Anyways I don't think a number matters (surprise! surprise!) as long you're comfortable with your sexual experiences overall--meaning that, for the most part, you can look back on your sexytime partners and think "yep, I know why I did him. Trustfund! Married Republican Senator!"

Now is divulging "your number" important? I guess that depends.

Do you expect your partner to spill all the gory details regarding his sexual escapades? If so, then I think you have to give up the goods. If not, you can express that putting a number on your past experiences isn't something you're comfortable with.

However, withholding information often makes people fear the worst, so that may be something you want to consider, as well.

Overall whore-ish, I think people, especially women, need to relax a little when it comes to their "number". It doesn't define you. I've slept with nearly 10,000 men and/or women, and have been in a long-term monogamous relationship since high school. That means most of my no-pants dancing was done in a three-year time frame. That, my friend, is impressive. I'm like mother-fucking Michael Phelps without the abs. Or the underbite.

And if it makes you feel any better, Mittens McMagicUnderPants was on national television when he disclosed that he has "binders full of women". That can only mean tons of Mormon child-brides seductively bearing an ankle while locked in a Trapper Keeper.

What a whore.

And he's running for president.

P.S. If after reading this you think, "I might be a whore." Email me at notreallyabarista@gmail.com. You will remain anonymous.

P.S.S. Follow me on Facebook. And Twitter. And POF (JK! For now).

That's a real sexy hairline, Paul Ryan.

The Vice Presidential debate has left me with one question and one question only...

Do you think that Paul Ryan will be keeping his Joe Biden rape baby? I mean, it is just another method of conception.

In all fairness though, Ryan had it coming. Who does he think he is going out in public with that sexy ass hairline?

But seriously, you're a horrible person and deserved the "forcible" beating you received tonight.

Oh, and you look ridiculous. 

Obama Vs. Romney Vs. Big Bird

I'm kind of on a hiatus. Mainly, I'm just busy and would rather spend my off-time watching shitty reality TV than pretending to be literate and witty three times a week.

However, today marks a much-anticipated event here at I'm Not Really a Barista--the first presidential debate.

Which means...

In this corner, weighing in at a brawny 195-pounds--the Mormon Monopoly Man, the whitest thing to come out of Detroit since any Eminem fan--Mitt "Magic Underpants" Romney.

And in this corner, weighing in at a lean, mean 170-pounds--that Hawaiian guy who might be a Muslim or a Socialist or in blackface--Barack "I Killed Fucking Bin Laden" Obama.

Now while I'm still on my blogging diet and couldn't be funny if I tried, that doesn't mean that you people can't.

Here are some of my favorite tweets from the #PresidentialDebate.

@BigBirdRomney

@RobDelaney

@natashaleggero

@heyitstva

@ItsHeatherRose

@curlycomedy

@ItsReginaG

Well, I think that was a successful first debate. We've learned that if you drink every time someone says "top-down economics" you'll be dead in 20 minutes. That there's something called "clean coal" which I  assume is coal ran through a dishwasher. That Romneycare and Obamacare are NOT the same thing.

And that Mitt Romney hates Big Bird, probably because he assumes any 6'5 guy wearing yellow feathers wants to get gay married.