Thursday, June 28, 2012

Misquotes from Marilyn Monroe

I've mentioned in previous posts that I am perplexed by the fascination with Marilyn Monroe quotes. 

This has quadrupled since I've joined Pinterest.

Every other "pin" is a photo of Marilyn Monroe looking absolutely stunning and receiving attribution for a quote that, I would bet an ovary on, never came from her mouth.


 I don't think there was a fixation with size zero during Marilyn's era. Nice try, fatties. 


I wouldn't take advice from her. It didn't turn out that great.


Obviously Miss Monroe has been misquoted, and it is my duty to set the record straight! Here's some quotes I'm nearly positive came from the sex symbol.



Way to lay it all out there, M-Dog.



She has a really good point.



Fact: In 50 years Kim Kardashian will be attributed to 
MLK's "I have a dream" speech.



But Marilyn, she's a feminist, 
which means she's ugly!



Girl! You so crazy.



I didn't think so.

UPDATE: The Tsaritsa inspired a reverse Monroe quote.


Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Bristol Palin Tells Me Life is a Tripp. However She Named He Kid Tripp so I Don't Trust Her Judgement.

Lifetime, the network responsible for every movie that features a battered woman murdering her husband with a pickaxe, is at it again.

Bristol Palin: Life's a Tripp premiered a week ago on the network. In the name of research, I spent an hour watching the previously-aired episodes, and oh man is it good. 

No. Definitely not good in the traditional sense of the word. Good for someone who blogs about horrible reality TV shows. It's good for me.

The premise of the show is unclear, which I think is intentional. The viewer is confused and therefore more susceptible to be preyed upon.

Is this show about her moving to LA? Why is she moving? Where exactly is Wasilla? Why did she name her kid Tripp? What's happening with her chin? Fuck it, I'm already 20 minutes in I guess I'll finish watching.


But from what I could tell, Bristol, Baby Tripp, and her sister Willow (who will inevitably be cast on The Bad Girl's Club) decide to move from Wasilla to Los Angeles.

 Her reasoning: "I'm moving to LA to show Tripp another part of the world."

Actually, Bristol, that is only showing Tripp another part of America. Good effort, though.


Bristol's mom, Sarah Palin (maybe you've heard of her) is very supportive of her girls making the trek to Hollywood. She can be seen in several scenes sounding like an Alaskan Larry the Cable Guy and  spouting clich├ęs about life being an adventure.


A quick aside: This woman named her boys Track and Trigg. I assume her idea of an adventure is getting the shit beat out of you in middle school.


With all the necessary support and still no valid reasoning, the Palin girls head off to sunny California. At first everything is great, they see the awesome mansion they'll be living in. Bristol heads to the super-cool charity she'll be working at that, like, feeds kids or something. Then she visits Skid Row and sees some black people for the first time. All in all, California is pretty swell.

But drama begins when Bristol and a couple friends visiting from Alaska get into an altercation at dinner with some gentlemen who probably don't own Palin 2016 bumper stickers.

Man at Bar (to Bristol who is riding a mechanical bull): Did you ride
 Levi like that? Your mother's a whore. She's fucking Satan.

Bristol: Why is my mother Satan? Is it because your a homosexual?


As you can imagine, shit got real. Bristol ending up sobbing after receiving a verbal bitch slap from a couple of homosexuals. But to be honest, Bristol should have known that the homosexuals are a very sassy bunch.

After that, California wasn't so fun.

Bristol (on the phone after the fight): I have a ton of cameras
and paparazzi on me. This is not fair. This is not fun.

Umm, Bristol, those cameras are from your reality show. You know the one about life being a trip(p)? And fair? Do you remember visiting Skid Row? You're going to need to stop speaking.

Some other stuff happened, like her bitchy sister moving back to Wasilla and her kid filing for a legal name change, but I lost interest in the show once she stopped hysterically crying. 

Overall, Bristol Palin: Life's a Tripp is like a shittier version of Keeping Up with the Kardashians.  Except, Kim Kardashian had the decency to bang a mediocre rapper on camera before showing up on my TV and calling herself a star.

You're move, Bristol.

Sunday, June 24, 2012

What I Really Do: Barista Edition


The What I Really Do Meme was ungodly popular about a couple months back with everyone from stay-at-home moms to Nicholas Cage getting in on all the hot meme action.

However when I searched for "barista" I was disappointed with the the sheer lack of crying displayed in the results. I guess, I'm the only professional latte-maker who drinks and cries when they get home. Whatevs.

Anyway without further ado, I present the I'm Not Really a Barista "What I Really Do" (but not really, as the blog title suggests) meme!


Sad, huh? I'm gonna go cry some more. See you guys Tuesday!

Friday, June 22, 2012

Help! My Hymen is Growing Back

Allie,

I have not had relations in over 4 years. This was all fine until my sex-crazed roommate focused all of her energy talking about sex and how she's not having any and shes going nuts. Now it is all I can think about and I'm climbing the walls.


My vagina needs some lovins. Without meeting some crazies on Plenty of (dirty) Fish who will inevitably carry some disease, how do I go about finding a mate (long term or otherwise)?

Side note... I have only had 2 partners. The first was really bad. The second was a virgin. I'm afraid I won't know what to do if I do ever get in between the sheets with a man. Your sexpertise is greatly appreciated.

Sincerely,
Desolate in DC



I'm back, y'all!


It's been a long time since I've doled out any unqualified sex advice. And to be honest, I've missed it. There's a certain level of shame that comes from writing about blowjobs on the Internet, that a girl just can't get anywhere else.

It feels like home.

But moving on, I want to thank you DESOLATE for ending my dry spell. Now, let's see if we can't do the same for you. But first, a little tough love is in order.

Four years, DESOLATE? Really?


Your vagina could have graduated college. She could have served one term as president. She could have trained for the Olympics. She could be winning a fucking gold medal for an inspiring rhythmic gymnastic routine with all the time she's had on her figurative hands. 

That's not good, DESOLATE. Your vagina is pissed. But I'm here to help.

So first things first--and this is for my male readers--can you bang your roommate? If so, please send video. But if scissor-sistering your roommate is not an option, then I think you might want to reconsider taking a dip in the online dating pool.


Listen, I applaud you for not jumping on Plenty of (disease-ridden) Fish and screwing the first guy who messages you, but I don't think that a website with a bad reputation should discredit all the benefits that online dating has to offer someone. Especially someone who may be lacking in the experience department.


Let me explain, online dating allows you to be non-committal. You can view some profiles, send some messages, and slowly open yourself up to possibilities of dating and/or banging new people. 


Plus sometimes it's easier to be honest when you're not face-to-face with a stranger. For example--it may be difficult to say, "I've only been with a couple of dudes and haven't had a good boning in about four years" on a first date. 


Although, I think once you become reacquainted with the dating world, you should take your newfound skills and practice them in real life. Because that's the thing about dating, you can meet people anywhere, so you have to make sure you are open to the possibilities. 


So flirt with that hot guy at Starbucks. Or message a former crush on Facebook. Dating and sex involves putting yourself out there, whether that be on POF or at the bar down your street.


And finally, about being afraid of your sexual performance once you do become intimate with someone, I suggest two things.


1. Get to know your body sexually. Learn what you like. What you don't like. That way it will not be a blind-leading-the-blind situation the next time you do the no-pants dance with someone.

2. Communicate! This is important. Let the person you're with know you're inexperienced. Don't be ashamed. Own it. And then continue to communicate and encourage your partner to do the same. If you can take your clothes off with someone, you should be able to have a chat with them about your needs.

Now go! You've got four years of apologizing to do.

You're gonna be busy.

XOXO
Allie


P.S. If after reading this you think, "I'd like to have sex with Desolate in DC" then write to me at notreallyabarista@gmail.com. Or message me on Twitter @AllieOopsie. You will remain anonymous!

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

Will Marco Rubio's Perfectly Coifed Hair Win Him the VP Ticket?

There is so much stupid in the news today that I have no clue where to even begin.

Eeny. Meeny. Miney. Mormon.

Okay, I guess we'll start with the most dry-humpable former Mormon: Marco Rubio. 

Have you heard of him? Yeah, I assumed so. The Republican Party hasn't been this excited since the advent of Grindr.

I mean look at him. He's beautiful. He's young. He's charismatic. He's like a Cuban Barack Obama, without all that tolerance nonsense. And Mitt Romney is ready to make him his VP.


"Marco Rubio is being thoroughly vetted as
part of our process." -Mitt Romney 


I  can only assume this means Romney is going to give Rubio his letterman jacket and ask him to go steady.

Hungry Eyes.

To be honest, I'm a little nervous about this possible pairing. 


Rubio is a Jr. Senator from my state and has a pretty nasty track record when it comes to women's rights (Rubio wrote the bill that would give employers the right to deny contraceptive care based on moral objection.) That type of far-right crazy mixed with whatever "it" factor he has, might actually win Romney some votes. 

Here's hoping there are pictures of him dressed as Lady Gaga out there somewhere. 

Moving on.

Samuel Wurzelbacher is in the news, or Joe the Plumber as he's better known.


Wurzelbacher is running for the Ohio House.


Oh, and he thinks the Holocaust wouldn't have happened if only the Jews had access to assault rifles





Yep. He loves America. And guns!

Finally, my state's governor, Rick Scott is making headlines.

Why you ask?

Oh, he's just getting Florida sued.

The Lawsuit filed Tuesday claims that the governor is in violation of the Voting Rights Act because of his attempt to purge suspected non-citizens from Florida's voting rolls.

Of the 2,700 Floridians on the "purge list" 82 percent were people of color.

This comes on the heels of other moves, such as cutting early voter hours and voter registration drives, that critics suggest are aimed at lowering minority and student participation in the presidential election.

Nice one, Ricky.

Where are the Zombies when we need them, Florida?

Sunday, June 17, 2012

Happy Father's Day! Thanks for Not Shooting Me in the Face.

My dad is an interesting man.

Not interesting like he runs marathons and speaks Latin.

Interesting like he goes in and out of a Cajun accent without ever having spent any real time in Louisiana. He is obsessed with Nazi history, much to the dismay of my half-Jewish mother. He refers to himself solely as Padre de Gato and almost shot me in the face when I was a kid.

Yeah, you read that right.

I was six years old, and my dad almost offed me.

He was teaching my brother and I about gun safety. Being a southern-raised good ol' boy, my dad having an arsenal of weapons was as common as other dads having golf clubs.

"Never touch my guns," he said. "Now this one isn't loaded, but..."

Pop!

A single bullet whizzed by my head and shattered the dining room window.

I screamed.

He screamed.

My mom drew up divorce papers.

It was a pretty traumatic day.

Surprisingly enough, my dad was not kicked out of the house after his safety lesson gone awry, but he did spend the rest of the afternoon boarding up the window and trying to figure out how to spin this story to DCFS.

"I was teaching them an important lesson--accidents happen," he'd preach, swearing that it was intentional. "My kids now know to be afraid of guns!"

Parenting 101. Good looking out, Pops.

However, it didn't really teach me to be afraid of guns, but it did make me very suspicious of him.

So Dad, just know, I'm still watching you, you son-of-a-bitch.


 But happy Father's Day, nonetheless.

Thursday, June 14, 2012

A Former Whore from Facebook Helps me Inspire my Spouse

For everyone who doesn't know, I love Facebook (you should follow me there, btw). I love my Hannity-obsessed relatives. I love my white-trash classmates. I love the University of Phoenix ads.

And maybe more than anything else, I love the super-whores who somehow through their whoring journey, found the Lord and now they are really excited to share the news with everyone.


Recently, one of these ladies posted a link to an advice article, and since I love giving advice I thought I would share the highlights with all of you. Read the full article HERE.

50 Ways to Inspire Your Husband

1. Initiate Great Sex. 
Vaginal and missionary only.
Good girls don't get on top.

3. Give Him One Night to do Something He Loves. 
Like meth and dudes on Craigslist.
Remember Ted Haggard?

5. Ask Him About His Bucket List.
Yeah, I'm not doing that.

8. Text Him. Reminder: I Believe in You.
I did this. He texted back, 
"Are you stoned?"

9. Make Sure He Feels Respected By You.
So "fucktard" probably isn't a 
great pet name, huh?

17. Initiate Great Sex.
Again? Have you been reading 
"50 Shades of Grey"?

20. Post on His Facebook Wall: "I Love Being Your
 Wife. See me Tonight Regarding This."
Jesus! What if his Nana
 is on Facebook?

21. Gently Communicate with Him About what you Like in Bed, and 
Respond Encouragingly To his Attempts.
IT'S CALLED A CLITORIS! HAVE 
YOU FUCKING HEARD OF IT?

34. Do Something From his To-Do List for Him -- Something
 he'd Rather Have you do Anyway.
Jack off. 
Check!

36. Create a Cheerful Atmosphere when he Comes Home.
Does crying uncontrollably while watching
"The Notebook" count?

38. Discover His Love Language and Become even 
More Fluent in it?
I think it's gonna involve his penis!!

41. Organize or Clean Something in your Home that
 you Know he Finds Messy.
Seriously?
 I need a drink.

44. Initiate Great Sex.
Show me on the doll where your
Stepdad touched you.

And last but not least...

50. If and when he Messes up, Respond with the Kind of
 Grace, Compassion, and Mercy that God gives us. Respond
 in a Way that Communicates, "You're Safe with me -- 
and I'm Not Going to Rehash Your Failures.
This is a Secure Place for you to Grow...
and I Love the Journey with You."
You have to be fucking kidding me? 
Did you really say "if and when"? Who the hell are you married to?
Also, I'm gonna rehash the shit out of your failures. 


Well guys, I think we just stepped into Rick Santorum's America. Thanks former whore from Facebook. I will take these tips into consideration, or I'll put a bullet in my mouth.

Now I'm off to initiate great sex with my boyfriend and then when he does something right, let him know I'm proud of him and respect his authority.

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Maybe Child Abuse Isn't that Bad After All

It appears that a Rush Limbaugh/Ann Coulter/Glenn Beck gangbang spawned some sort of evil, bigoted lovechild about 14 years ago.

His name is Caiden Cowger. He "hosts" a show on YouTube, and is a real asshole. Don't believe me? Watch this video.




Thanks for the insights, Caiden. That's a super-straight name, by the way. I'll get back to you in just a sec.

As you can imagine, Caiden angered a lot of people with his opinions on homosexuality and the president, but the West-Virginia (suprising, right?) teen refused to back down. He has even created a new Youtube channel and is ready to spew more teenage-angst into the interwebs.

So, Caiden, I hear you have a problem with the gays. You think it's a choice. You think it's perverted. You think all your middle school homies are now sucking dick ever since Lady Gaga and the president came out in support of marriage equality. 

Man, that sounds tough. It's really hard to be 14, huh? I mean you have all of these opinions, but no one will listen to you.

But you want to know what's worse than that, Caiden?

Some 14-year-old punk having an opinion about fucking ANYTHING. I don't even want to have to sit next to a teenager at the movies, much less hear one pretend that he has any clue about the complexities of human sexuality.

And that's fine, at 14 you're not supposed to have concrete beliefs, because you haven't really been out in the world yet. I'm 26, and I'm still learning new things everyday. 

Caiden, I know I'm being hard on you. But you're obviously a precocious kid, and one day when you leave bumfuck West Virginia, you'll realize the ideas that have been shoved down your throat by the adults in your life may not be true. 

For example:

President Obama is not turning kids gay.

Homosexuality is not a choice.

Rush Limbaugh is not a role model.

Now if you've listened to nothing I've said thus far, listen to this. Recently a study published in The Journal of Personality and Social Psychology found that homophobia may be a result of repressed homosexual desire.

You know what that means, Caiden? 

That a lot of the people who talk about how wrong it is to be gay, end up being gay.

Sound familiar?

Sunday, June 10, 2012

Art Appreciation with Francesca Eastwood

We all have weaknesses--mine is medicinal marijuana, pints of Ben and Jerry's, and brain-cell-murdering reality television.

Normally the more ridiculous the show the better, but recently I've reached my limit.


The show revolves around Clint Eastwood's wife, their daughters--Francesca and Morgan, and a boy-band full of grown-ass men that she somehow adopted. There's a few more people apart of Mrs. Eastwood's company, but I don't really care enough to Google anymore.

Anyway, this one-season-at-best reality show recently made waves when eldest daughter Francesca and her boyfriend/photographer/douchecanoe Tyler Shields destroyed a $100,000 Birkin bag for a photoshoot.

Enjoy The Soup's take on the Birkin burning.




Oh man, that was some edgy shit! An actor's kid and her boyfriend burned a bag worth more than most people's homes to make a point about consumerism or some shit. Deeeeep.

After watching the episode, some people were pissed. Real pissed. Death-threat pissed. Robbing your ass in a parking lot pissed. Twitter-trend pissed. However, Francesca brushed off the negative reactions as a lack of art appreciation. 

People don't understand art, she was quoted saying.

Hmm, that seems legit. I'm sure people just don't have as much understanding of art as the 19-year-old "model", who also happens to be the offspring of Dirty Harry.

Yep. That has to be it. 

It has nothing to do with the fact that most people are living in poverty, if they're lucky, and that some over-privileged brat and her toolbox boyfriend decided take a chainsaw to a $100,000 bag in the name of "art", but in all honestly it was just done to boost ratings on their shitty reality show.

Then these same favored "artists" have the fucking nerve to say that people (the same people who will eventually get your show cancelled, by the way) don't understand art. Well, maybe that is the case. Maybe people don't understand art enough to placidly allow the destruction of something that could feed thousands of people going to bed hungry. 

Art is a luxury that many are not afforded. 

But you're 19, Frannie, so we'll forgive you. Hopefully in a few years you'll look back and realize this was a bad decision.

But Tyler, your ass is 29. You should know better--artist or not. To be honest, this "art", it's been done. It's not shocking, it's just entitlement gone awry. 

Oh and T-Dawg, if your only intention was making art, then maybe you could take whatever money you received from these images and donate it to a high school in a low-income district, so they can keep their art program. Then maybe the next generation will have a better appreciation for whatever it is you're doing.

Just a thought. 

Thursday, June 7, 2012

Fifty Shades of Black and Blue

Let me preface this post by saying that I haven't read Fifty Shades of Grey, nor do I really have any intention to--if I wanted an emotionally-damaged momma's boy to slap me around, I'd go to a Young Republican's meeting and wait--but that will not prevent me from making broad-sweeping generalizations about the book and its fanatical readers starting ... now.

What in the fuck, ladies? Are we really letting some bitch who wrote Twilight fan-fiction talk us into getting banged by a golf club while hog-tied? (I told you I didn't read it).

Now anyone who has read my blog for any period of time knows that I encourage the proud flying of the freakiest of flags, but the last thing we need is another impossible clit-lit dreamboat, with a slight character flaw (childhood abuse/wants to drain your blood), who will conquer his demons if the virginal leading lady just loves him enough.

Oh. Fucking. Please. Even I want to take away reproductive rights after hearing this shit.

It's not that I have anything against a cheap piece of erotica, personally I enjoy the '90s classic--Pretty Woman, but when I hear that a recent divorcee is scouring dating sites eager to be bound and gagged by a stranger/soulmate after reading this book cover to cover, I get a little nervous.

The divorcee I speak of is a friend. Recently separated from a cheating man who couldn't have found her clitoris with a GPS and a searchlight, she submerged herself in the Grey Trilogy to take her mind off things. The leading man was so hot. The sex so hot. She became convinced that this BDSM shit was something she needed to try out.

Only with no partner in sight, she turned to the Internet, Plenty of Fish to be precise, looking for a fish who would make her its bitch--it also wouldn't hurt if this fish was wildly attractive, insanely wealthy, and loved to cuddle.

However, she soon became aware that Christian Grey is a fictional character and that guys who agree to tie you up on the Internet, usually want to do so to steal your purse so they can buy bath salts.

I know this scenario is mighty stupid, and my friend is probably as naive as they come, but as Grey-inspired memes flood my Facebook wall and hardware stores sell out of rope, I wonder if my friend is not alone. Are women partaking in risky sexual behavior after reading Fifty Shades of Grey, the same way teenage girls began lapping up their own blood after devouring The Twilight Saga?

I want to believe this is not the case, that my ladies are smart and know that any kink you're unfamiliar with (or that could leave a bruise) should be experimented with slowly and with a trusted sexual partner.

Or Chris Brown. Chris Brown will gladly beat the fuck out of you too.

Monday, June 4, 2012

Not a Zombie. Maybe a Barista.

By now I'm sure every person with access to the internet has heard about the "Miami Cannibal" story. If you were living under a rock last week, click HERE to catch up.

Geeks everywhere were ecstatic.

"We were right!" they screamed."The zombie apocalypse is near and only those of us who have prepared will survive. Once we defeat the undead, we'll be forced to repopulate the planet. So long virginity!"

Unfortunately, for those counting down the days 'til zombie warfare, I've got bad news for you.

The Miami Cannibal wasn't a zombie.

I don't even think he was a real cannibal.

You know what he was, he was pissed-off customer service worker.

Now I can't say that for a fact, but personally I've thought about ripping someone's face off after a bad day at work.

Honestly, that's pretty tame. I won't write the worst thing I've thought about doing to some redneck with hairy eyelids after he asks if I'm retarded.

I don't need a paper trail in case some shit goes down one day.

So the moral of this horrifying story is be nice to your baristas, because they might eat your face off.

Oh, and don't come to Florida. It's getting pretty cray down here, y'all.