The Effect I Have on Girls
written January 2008 by
[This is what a girl wrote on her myspace blog after a few weeks of knowing me. Names of people and places have been changed to preserve anonymity. It's a bit long, but well worth the read...]
Alright so, in light of recent events in my life (even though the past two weeks should have consisted of nothing other than eating, sleeping, working, studying and just plain being the most amazing individual I know), I have decided to openly admit a few things about myself. For those of you who are fortunate enough to know me this silly little blog will most likely just make you chuckle. For the rest of you, I hope you can learn something that may perhaps make your pathetic, conformed lives a little easier. Just to shed a little light as to why the fuck Iím making a blog to begin with, let me dedicate the first section of explanation to a fellow Iím going to refer to as
Marshall. I was fortunate enough to meet a truly unique fucktard this semester (Marshall). Thatís right folks, this guy is not your average fucktard; heís pretty unique.
But Hillary, what makes him so unique? you may be asking yourselves. Well, for starters, he unintentionally inspired me to start my very own blog. I can no longer pretend to fit in with the
in college crowd consisting of the ever so rare and original Baltimore slut and the hot fraternity clones who happen to turn me on when they can complete an entire sentence.
It all started on a rainy afternoon in February. Being the poor college student that I am, I decided it was about time to get a job. Even though I needed the money for my new car payment, my rent, and average expenses such as gas and occasional renting of really lame movies from a red box, perhaps saying that the money was needed to support my crack addiction and condom/lube reserve sounds more credible (I live in Baltimore for those of you who donít know). Anyway, my roommate and I went job hunting and I had the brilliant idea of applying to the [restaurant]. Little did I know this day was going to be the beginning of self pity, insecurity and even regret. For those of you ladies who canít help but think of something clever like
life with no regretsÖif you wanted it once you shouldnít regret...blah, blah, etc then youíre too fucking stupid to comprehend anything past this point because you canít stop spreading your legs and making gay ass quotes to justify it long enough to follow my thoughts. After getting an application and being directed to the bar to fill it out, I pondered over the menu and decided on crab dip. Obviously the bartender would be the one to take the order seeing as though we were indeed sitting at the bar. Interestingly enough, he didnít just take our order. Like the good little [restaurant] slave that he is, he succeeded in making a bit of small talk and attempted to make my roommate and I laugh. Honestly, I didnít think much of him. If anything I thought:
sucks that he has the same name as my white trash cousin. Anyway, thatís neither here nor there. The following month I would train as a waitress and then Iíd start work. I am now entering my fourth week of work and my tolerance for both negros and small children who need to be beat has continued to decrease. For those of you fall into the category of
small children who need to be beat and you take offense to my last comment, fuck you and stop eating out at restaurants.
So the bartender is our Marshall (Iím sure our slow readers were beginning to wonder so youíre welcome...and please keep an eye out for the rest of the pretty little pictures I have to create during the remainder of this rant). Like I said, first impression wasnít a home run. He was a good height, average build, above average on most peopleís attractive scale (thatís about a 7-8 for those of you who have difficulty with numbers). All in all, I wasnít planning on being any nicer to him than I am to the usual asshole who usually thinks heís Godís gift to women and canít seem to find a hair product that gives him a lasting hold throughout the entire day. Nope, I had my mind made up. The brew of whores, ghetto thugs, pregnant/unmarried dropouts and middle aged women who just so happened to make up the dynamic at my work were not going to be a part of my life outside of work.
It didnít take long for me to start to wonder what the deal was with Marshall. He tended to flirt with every vag that said one word to him. What was even more intriguing to me was the fact that he had the balls to be such an asshole to people. I get the whole
Iím gonna be a huge fag to women because girls want what they canít have so this will definitely get me laid approach. Itís worked for longer than Iíve been alive and Iím no one to knock something that works. It was just so strange because he was NOT your average guy by any means (at least I didnít think so up until this point). I decided to facebook friend the little bastard seeing as though there happens to be no other form of initial communication in todayís young society (and who am I to go against mainstream awesomeness?) To my surprise, he was actually funny. He seemed to spend time with his family, didnít mind making an ass of himself, and he even did the facebook community a favor by posting really funny pictures containing jokes. Iíd go further into detail but most of them degrade the average woman and I wouldnít want any of you to start and envy my awesome ability to not be offended due to the fact that Iím better than you. So yes, I
facebook stalked him ( a clever little term that means you check out someoneís page before you even know them- itís just another way to encourage the average college student to feel even more pathetic about their inability to meet someone in a normal way). I wanted to know if there was anything about him that would allow me to think he had a soul. Guess what, he reads! Good God, a guy who went to school in Baltimore, happens to be a bartender working around the worst group of people, and he manages to open books and sound out words! For those of you who are confused, Baltimore schools = Not smart (except for your occasional gems, aka myself). I would later find out that he was reading the Harry Potter series. I donít give a shit how cool you think you are, how big your penis is or how many shots of grey goose you can do, Hogwarts is the shit.
Moving on, fucktard even had good taste in movies and music. It gets kind of old to drive around with numerous friends and be forced to listen to descriptive tales of pwning the black vag and fucking over your babyís mama. I was actually starting to see potential for a friendship here. This was a big deal because I hate people. The funny thing is, Iíve always been the most sarcastic person who had no tolerance for people or stupidity. Sadly, fucktard beats me on both counts.
I could go on and on about the little details of our relationship after that point, but Iím going to try and break it down quickly so that I can move on to talking about myself (Iím a woman so this is one of the three things I can do by nature alone). [Edit: When we had a conversation about this rant not too long after she wrote it, I jokingly said the other two things she was referring to were obviously cooking and cleaning. She said, and I shit you not, that thatís exactly what she had in mind when she wrote it. Now try and tell me Iím not changing society for the better.] Pretty much, after the initial facebook stalking, we made small talk until I initiated a real conversation on AIM; the outlet for awkward conversations, retarded away messages that give people meaning to their lives, and profile decorations that make sure everyone knows whoís dating who. He seemed a bit disinterested. I couldnít blame him really. Who the hell was I? Just another waitress from work who probably loved The Bachelor and whose favorite book was Confessions of an Heiress. After a few days of awkward conversing and then working together and acting like we had never spoken outside of work in our lives, we finally made plans to hang out.
We went to a lovely little place called Red Robin. After talking about stupid shit for about 20 minutes, we started talking about things we liked to do (this may seem normal, but try and understand that he doesnít EVER talk about things that normal people talk about. If it doesnít involve his ex g/f, a thoroughly broken down statistical plot of the ratio of smart, desirable women to stupid whores -sadly the smart, desirable woman donít get too much love- then he doesnít really do well with talking). We started talking about video games. Surprise, surprise! Hillary likes to play video games. Not only do I hate when people bring it up (I canít begin to describe the nightmares I have thinking about the endless numbers of boners Iíve provided to disgusting, pimple faced boys who like to jerk off in the basement when their parents go to bed), I act really awkward about it. In World of Warcraft, I probably went through four guilds before I settled into one whose general consensus was wanting to fuck me simply because I was awesome and not just because I had a vagina and I could kick anyoneís ass in PvP. [Edit: what a fucking nerd haha.] Unfortunately, what also comes with the territory of knowing how to play video games is the need to recognize when you need to act like you suck so as to not completely break a manís spirit. All that will happen if you refrain from reserving your mad skills is 1. You donít get laid... ever... and 2. His balls shrink up and you have to go home. Given the fact that my life sucks, of course he wanted to go back to his apartment and play PS2. This would soon result in a really long night of being bored and really wanting a system in my apartment so I could play by myself.
After our interesting dueling in a few games, he invited me to go to his friendís place. When we got there, three of his buddies were playing darts in what I can only explain as the most awesome guyís apartment Iíve ever seen. There were games everywhere. The dual screen monitors were gigantic and I almost came the second I walked in. Sadly, this is the first time Iím hanging out with Marshall and I donít really want to go for the whole
Hey, can I please be friends with your friends thing. We played Super Smash Brothers, which I actually do suck at. After that, I watched him go head to head with a man [we call] Rabbi in chess. I wish I were kidding but Iím not. Donít get me wrong, I actually had a pretty good time that night. I rarely hang out with people who have awesome hobbies and can manage to devote at least two hours of the day to something other than jerking off and/or mating with the opposite sex.
After that, we made plans to hang out again. This time, we watched a movie, played Tetris and managed to strip down to our underwear and sit next to each other for 3 more hours playing. I think the funniest part about most guys, and this one included, is how much they love talking about fucking stupid women and using girls for nothing but pleasure but then once youíre there with everything short of a sign that says
Please take me now, they just so happen to get nervous and just donít know what to do. Oh silly little men. The best part of the night was just laughing about how awkward things were and openly bashing how lame we were for neither of us making a move. Right around 6 a.m. it was on. And verrryy shortly after it was off. He decided to eat some watermelon and I went home like the good little girl I am [Edit: thatís right, I made her leave after we had sex. Just kidding, it was like 6 in the morning so she had to get to class or work soon anyway, but it sounds better when I say I made her leave]. After getting a talking to by my lovely roommate, I went to bed with nothing to look forward to but that sad fact that I had to work with him later that night.
After work, everyone went to a party at a guy from workís place. Marshall was there because God hates me. If I can just digress for a moment...I must say that the only thing worse than having unattractive and obnoxious guys from work constantly hugging you and asking you out is being at a party where they think the only thing you could want more than another beer is their huge peen in your vajayjay. Whatís more, it doesnít matter how many times you turn away and start talking to someone else, they know you want it and they will stop at no cost. Someone remind me to wear a piece of flair to work that says
I donít like black guys. Anyway, after an awkward night of having too much to drink (Iím almost positive I came onto my roommate on more than one occasion...which reminds me: Iím sorry and your boobs are really soft), he left without saying goodbye. Now, I tend to try and not think too far into things, but this guy makes it impossible to do that. If it were up to me, Iíd try to play the whole average, retarded girl who just canít seem to not get used act for as long as it worked for me, but the problem is that this guy CANNOT stop making every aspect of his life a devotion to the slaughtering of the
average woman. I was completely fine with getting my end of the deal and having a friendly relationship at work. Unfortunately, being around him is driving me nuts because of the way he thinks. Pretty much, he hates women and I hate women. Donít get me wrong, men have their issues but they also have brains. If I could just be around him and make sure Miss V is happy then I would do so happily. Unfortunately, this guyís constant comments have consumed my recent thoughts and caused me to reflect.
First of all, Iím not average. Chances are that you are and I hate you. In addition to not being average, I just so happen to be awesome. If this is making you feel sorry for yourself then you can take a break and Iíll be here when you get back. I canít stand stupid girls who want to go shopping every five seconds and have a shoe collection bigger than their actual closet. Personally, I have a pair of tennis shoes, a pair of work shoes, winter boots and 10 pairs of 2 dollar old navy flip flops because theyíre 2 dollar old navy flip flops. I also canít stand girls who are stupid. You may be thinking,
What do you mean stupid? Thatís so general. Well, Iím here to help so let me clarify: You donít understand because youíre stupid. You whine and bitch about how hard your life is and how hard you work (chances are youíre a stupid slut who works at the [restaurant]...but I donít know everything). You are the kind of girl who needs to text message your boyfriend every 5 seconds because you canít breathe when heís out with his friends. Chances are heís out with his friendsÖbut for your sake I hope heís fucking your best friend. Just when you thought you really sucked, thereís actually more. I really hate how you need attention with everything that you do. This includes but is not limited to: The way you dress, the way you try to sound cute when you talk but all guys hear is "Iíll give you road dome if I get shot gun," the way you try to talk about your classes and how hard your multiple choice final was (pick a real fucking major you little Mass Comm sluts), and the way that you have to advertise your entire life story in either away messages or some form of quotation on one of your lame pages. Donít worry, guys do it too. This is actual the only other thing that I truly dislike about Marshall. [Edit: I used facebook to publish my writing before I made Itchyflight.com.]
Like I said, our little fucktard friend (I hope by now youíve grown to love him just as much as I have) has an ex g/f. The thing is that they dated for three years and then she cheated on him. Do you want to know why? Because sheís just like you! Thatís right... Vagina? Check. Boobs? Check. Whorish tendencies? Double check. Self recognition that she is in fact a stupid bitch? Check. Donít be too sad; theyíve since built a wonderful friendship that includes her as his hair dresser and personal apartment decorator (she left most of her things in his place when she moved out). So why do you need to know about his history with her? Because heís a fucking
broken man. You know who they are. Theyíre the guys who have one serious relationship, swear that itís untouchable and then when someone shits on the coats (if you donít get the reference itís because you suck and you need to come out from under your rock) they whine and cry for about two years, fuck anyone who will have them and they swear off women. And do you know why this happens? Because of all of you. Because of 9/10 of the humans with vaginas living on this earth today, the other 1/10 arenít allowed to have lasting friendships with guys or even enjoy simple sex. Guys are so fucking jaded because of alllll of the crap that you all do. And whatís the best part? Most of you sit back and use silly little phrases like
I hate boys. Why do you hate them? Because youíre an easy little whore who gave it up and now he doesnít want you. You need to get over it. Maybe if you didnít make boys hate our entire gender then youíd have more luck. Actually, I take it back. Youíll probably always suck.
Let me give you a wonderful example of what the opposite sex thinks of us, ladies:
Whatís the difference between women and bowling balls?
Nothing. No matter how many times you pick them up, stick your fingers in them and throw them in the gutter, theyíll always come back for more.
Aw. Isnít that precious? The sad part is that itís true. The even sadder part is that guys know that itís true. This lovely little piece was actually provided by Mr. Marshall himself. Itís shit like this that illustrates just how he thinks as well as how women are seen. Canít say that I didnít lend a hand in supporting that little quote by the stupid shit I did this week, but at least Iím awesome and I understand whatís going on around me. For the rest of you, shape up. Iím getting so mad that all of your stupid actions are affecting my sex life. Hereís what you do:
- Read a book (make it a good one... if youíre feeling adventurous then make it over a 100 pager!)
- Declare a major/ change your existing
major(youíll be surprised at how refreshing it feels, plus, you may actually find something to use in conversations other than who your beer pong partner was last night)
- Leave guys alone (For fuck sake, if you want to sleep with someone then do it. If you want to sleep with someone thinking that heís just gonna love your precious ass forever afterwards and then youíre surprised that he leaves you... then HAHA. Iím sorry, youíre stupid.)
Sorry this was long, but I felt it needed to be said. I hope some of you take my advice because you think youíre really original and hot, but the bottom line is that there are clones of you at every University in the country. Learn something and try your hardest to get a personality.
[Itís a pretty big stroke to my ego to know that I have this much of an effect on people. A couple things: For one, sheís pretty funny, right? Sheís like the girl version of me, except not quite as jaded with life and the opposite sex, yet definitely equally so with females. Two, sheís a pretty good writer (though the original version had a lot of mistakes which were edited out for this site). Three, after she wrote this, we went on to have a lot more sex.... Girls are funny. Finally, she's the same girl I wrote about in Waiting for my Nuts to Drop.]
- Reasoning With Women is Like Pissing in the Wind
- Waiting for my Nuts to Drop
- Sex and the City Quotes Are For Tards
- Frat Boys Are Super Cool. Just Kidding.
- Sometimes You Feel Like a Nut
- You're Unique, Just Like Everybody Else
- How to Get the Girl... lol jk
- Advice for the Promiscuous