My Legacy

Drinking for 6 hours straight makes you do crazy things. Like having unprotected sex with someone you just met. I've never done this. I've only heard.

Unprotected sex is one of the dumbest things you could possibly do, ESPECIALLY as a woman. I've realized that there's no reason why I shouldn't ask a man to put on a rubber because (1) it protects me from STDs, (2) it shields the world (and my taut, unscarred vagina) from my progeny, (3) there's no way in HELL a man is going to turn down sex with me just because I asked him to roll a condom on, and (4) I can't even feel the difference whether there's a condom on or not (and who really gives a fuck about whether HE can feel the difference).

But this post isn't about unprotected sex . It's more about my fear of death by STD , which would be a horrible way to go. No sex would EVER be worth it. Not even a gang bang with Tom Brady, Josh Duhamel, and Brad Pitt (toss in Chris Pine and my answer might be different... I'd be honored to lick the genital warts on his dick).

Anyhow, all this thinking about death by STD got me thinking about a quasi-morbid obsession of mine - my obsession with MY LEGACY.

Since I was a kid, I've spent a freakish amount of time fantasizing about how I want the world to remember me after I die. When I was young and innocent, I dreamt that the world would weep after my passing because it had just lost one of its Nobel Prize laureates - someone whose passionate commitment to service and knowledge left a lasting mark on the world... someone who actually made the world a better place. You know. Like how we'd all feel if Angelina Jolie croaked.

But now I'm old enough to realize that Dreams are for naive children and delusional adults, so I've reconciled my goal for My Legacy with what I'm actually capable of accomplishing.

So how do I want to be remembered, loyal readers?

Behold! My lasting contribution to the world: The Fuckbuddy Code of Conduct.

Yes, I've learned from the world of business that if you want to be successful, you need so solve a pain point, and there's no pain point more familiar to me than the shit that goes down due to the fact that men and women have NO CLUE how to behave in Fuckbuddy situations.

So I'm going to spell out the Fuckbuddy rules. These are rules that should be followed by EVERYONE who engages in meaningless sex (you know who you are, you horndogs). In addition, this Code of Conduct - like our Constitution or GAAP - becomes more valuable to society the more it's applied, so please do the world a favor and forward it to every slutty hobag and sleazy player you know.

Without further ado, I present My Legacy...

The Fuckbuddy Code of Conduct

Fuckbuddy, defined: someone with whom you enjoy the rapturous delight of fucking or hooking up without having to commit to a monogamous relationship (like your soul mate, but without all the work)

For PLAYERS: Recognize that while women are perfectly willing to behave like whores, they still don't want to be treated like one. As such...

After you fuck a Fuckbuddy, you WILL spend the night with her - no matter how early you need to be at work the next day.

For the LOVE OF GOD please try to be more creative when sending the same old booty text at 1 AM every Friday night. You know what this SMS is, you fuckers. "What r u up to?"

If, while you're hooking up, you've reached a point when you realize that you never want to sleep with your Fuckbuddy again, DO NOT lie to her for no reason to make her feel as though you plan on seeing her again. Don't fucking make plans to watch some TV show together even though you know FULL WELL you'll never call the bitch again.

If you're hooking up with a girl who's totally wasted, put a REAL condom on. Yes, I've heard stories about drunk idiots wrapping their dicks up in saran wrap, and situations like this need to stop.

Do not fuck two different Fuckbuddies within a 24-hour period (unless it's a threesome). And if you do, make sure that neither of them EVER EVER EVER find out!

For SLUTS: Accept the fact that to your Fuckbuddy, you're just another whore, so...

Do NOT get angry if you find out that your Fuckbuddy made fun of you to his friends. You barely knew him, and you put on a schoolgirl costume the 2nd night you fucked! You were asking for it.

Don't waste your time being overly sweet or nice to him. This means no cooking and cleaning for the bastard. If he wants homemade food and someone to do his laundry, he can either whine to his mommy or commit to fucking ONLY YOU!

Realize that it's SOLELY your responsibility to make sure you guys use protection, and use it EVERY TIME. Your Fuckbuddy doesn't care about your health, so YOU need to watch out for yourself.

If you find yourself starting to think about your Fuckbuddy frequently and in contexts besides sex, ABORT!! You're probably developing feelings for him, and this will make things super messy because you'll start making demands that your Fuckbuddy will not be willing to accommodate.

You absolutely CANNOT get offended when your Fuckbuddy booty texts you, and you CANNOT get angry when he doesn't respond to one of YOUR texts. This is just the way the Fuckbuddy world works. It's not about romance. It's about fucking someone in the most low-maintenance, low-cost, and convenient way possible. If you can't handle it, then don't put out unless you're dating someone.

And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen. I think that if we all follow these rules, we'll see that sex can be meaningless, fun, AND safe! If that doesn't make the world a better place, then NOTHING will. Maybe I DO deserve a Nobel prize... Hmm...

Who Wants to Date Mr. Mom? No one.

Isn’t it totally awkward catching up with people you haven’t seen since high school? I CAN’T STAND IT.

They inevitably treat me as though I’m the same person I was almost 10 years ago, and it bugs the shit out of me! GOD DAMNIT, I may not have been cool in high school, but I’m almost kinda sorta half cool now (from afar and when you’re not really listening to what I’m saying).

I’m blathering on about this because I ran into someone who used to be one of my really close friends in high school. I'm going to call him Mr. Dream On.

Mr. Dream On was one of the popular kids in high school, and he probably could have dated almost any girl he wanted. All the cutest girls in school had crushes on him. And as you all know, I was a total dork in high school whom no boy liked.

Anyhow, Mr. Dream On told me that he misses me and wants us to "HAVE KIDS TOGETHER.”

What. The. Fuck. Since when does a fucking DUDE broach the topic of "kids?!?!"

And then he offered to “STAY HOME, TAKE CARE OF THE KIDS, AND GIVE THEM PIANO LESSONS.”

Holy motherfucking shit! His crazy ass thinks he can stay home playing Mr. Mom while I'm managing a team of thousands? HELLLLLLLLL to the NO.

I tried to divert his attention by pointing out other hot girls nearby and saying he should go talk to them instead.

He then told me, “No, it's okay. I like you because of WHAT’S ON THE INSIDE.”

And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?! Yeah, buddy. Thanks SO FUCKING MUCH for being able to look beyond what is apparently an unattractive exterior. I’m soooooooo grateful. As a token of my appreciation, please feel free stick your dick up my coochie now and thrust it in and out as hard as you’d like.

Attention all stupid men of the world: NEVER TELL A GIRL YOU LIKE HER BECAUSE OF WHAT'S ON THE INSIDE. This is an amateur move. Yeah, girls want to be appreciated for their intelligence, wit, etc., but we DON'T want to be told that you like us for these things IN SPITE OF THE FACT WE'RE UNATTRACTIVE.

Nope. Not gonna make a woman swoon with that one. Just lie to the bitch and toss in "pretty" or at least a cursory "cute" with all the other adjectives you actually mean. Geeze. You fucking lie to us about SO MANY THINGS. Would it KILL you to lie in this situation, too?! I think not.

So just do it, damnit. Tell me I'm "beautiful."

Our Wedding

This is one letter in a series of letters to The Lucky Bastard (my future boo).

Dear Boo,

I went to a wedding this past weekend, which got me thinking about OUR future wedding.

Since you’re marrying an Asian, you probably already know that this wedding will be a logistical masterpiece. Every possible detail and contingency will be meticulously considered well in advance of the actual ceremony. In other words, I’ve already planned it all out even though I haven’t met you yet.

I’m sorry for not including your input in the planning of our wedding, but I hope you realize that since I have better taste and am more organized, it’s really more efficient if I do it all without you. Consensus building just takes more time than I have to give.

But it’s not like you won't contribute to the wedding at all. I’ve found 2 roles for you: (1) you’ll bankroll the wedding and (2) you’ll be in it, sweetie!

Here are the most pertinent details related to our wedding day (The full 287 page plan, itinerary, and contingency plan are locked in our safe deposit box by the stunning Harry Winston diamond necklace you bought me for my birthday last year. Notice that I didn't include a “budget” because I’ve decided that we won’t be having one.):

I’ve realized that I have WAY more best gays than I do girlfriends, so instead of having Bridesmaids, I’m going to have a harem of Bridesmen! They’ll be dressed in custom-made pink sailor suits designed by none other than Dolce and Gabbana themselves! Ahoy!

And, instead of a Maid of Honor, I’d like to have a Geisha of Honor – one of my best gays who will go in drag as a gorgeous geisha! I see this as a unique and thoughtful way of honoring my Asian parents.

Obvi the wedding will be a destination wedding somewhere tropical and international. Although it will be very expensive for our guests to attend, this will show us who our TRUE FRIENDS are.

We’re going to feast on a 6-course meal prepared by Eric Ripert. He’ll make all of my favorites, which I won’t bother listing here because you should already know what they are.

Entertainment will be provided by all of my most beloved artists (this list is subject to change depending who is “hot” at the time of our wedding), including Rihanna, Britney Spears, Fergie, MIA, T-Pain, Justin Timberlake, John Mayer, Kanye West, and Gwen Stefani. (Please note that John and Justin will be seated to my left and right during dinner. While I recognize that you might want to sit by me, I think it would be more fun if we sat immersed among the pop stars rather than among our loved ones, don’t you agree? You can totally sit between Rihanna and Britney!)

My gown and 3 other dresses (as I will do multiple clothing changes throughout the course of the evening) will be designed by Marchesa. I know exactly how I want them to look, but I’m not giving you anymore details because I want your jaw to drop in awe every time you first see me. Don’t worry. Each dress will be worth every penny (2,000,000 pennies, to be more specific).

Adam Corolla will marry us because he's fucking hilarious, and I want our wedding ceremony to be entertaining. I've sat through enough coma-inducing ceremonies to know that the only two people who enjoy the wedding ceremony are the two people actually getting married. And sometimes even they look like they can't wait until it's over. Also, do you think Adam would be willing to dress up as a Merman? Actually, what am I saying? I'm sure he has his price, and fortunately for us, we have no limits.

Our guests will NOT be allowed to bring their children because I find children annoying, loud, and dirty. This would turn our wedding into an absolute circus, and, as you can tell, I'd like it to be a romantic and serious affair.

Most importantly, I'd like to ensure that all of our guests are as hammered as I will be, so let's place a fountain of Dom Perignon on each table, okay?


Your Cherie Amour,
[the name my readers will never know]

Question from a Reader: Are you fat?

My Response:

HOW. DARE. YOU.

UGH! You should KNOW BETTER. I thought that only intelligent people could appreciate my blog, but obviously I was wrong.

So I’ll put 2 and 2 together for you:

1. I’m shallow. I’m shallow, and I hate fat or ugly people. And I love myself more than words can describe. People say that no love is stronger than the love between a mother and her child. This is not true. The love between me and myself is far stronger than that. I am my soul mate, I am the wind beneath my wings, and there’s no fucking way I’ll love my children more than I love myself. Believe me, if I had to choose between feeding Peter Jr. or feeding myself, Peter Jr. would have the distended belly and sad malnourished eyes of an Ethiopian child. Now that’s self love. And this love would not be possible if I were either fat or ugly.

2. I wear 4-5” heels. Do you think a fat chick could possibly waddle about in stilettos?!?! Jesus Christ! The bitch would eat asphalt every 4 steps! Also, the pressure that high heels exert on the balls of your feet is proportional to your body weight, so no fat girl could possibly withstand such pressure. It would be like walking on your tippy toes with a walrus strapped to your back.

3. I’M ASIAN. How fucking unlucky would I be if I were one of the 4 Asian females in America who is overweight? GOD. Those poor things. If I were one of them, I’d be so ashamed that I wouldn’t even tell anyone that I was Asian. “Ha! I’m flattered that you think I’m Asian as they’re clearly the most intelligent and most sexually desirable girls in the world, but I’m Samoan, silly!”

4. If I were fat, I’d have tig ol’ bitties, which I truly believe are the keys to living a fulfilling life. I’d treat my breasts as though they were my best friends who went everywhere with me – referring myself instead as “us” and “we.” For example: WE want a ham and cheese sandwich. WE want to find someone to lick OUR nipples. WE want to find a man who is as funny as WE are.

If you still don’t get it, I’ll spell it out for you: NO, I’M NOT A HIPPO, and statistically speaking, YOU are probably fatter than I. I’m merely a failed anorexic who will never give up on her dreams of having ribs that are so well defined you could hang Christmas ornaments from them.

But thanks for your ignorant question. Keep ‘em coming!

This is the Reason Why You're Single: YOU'RE FAT

I found myself in the unfortunate position of being seated next to a fat chick on the airplane today. I shall call her Plump Passenger. I noticed that she was reading a magazine, so I peeked over her ham hock arm to see what she reading. It was an article in Cosmo on dating rules you should break. You know, bullshit like “It’s okay to make the first move” or “If you ask a guy out on the first date, then you should offer to pay.”

Really? WHY was Plump Passenger wasting her time reading shit like this?! How does she not realize that her priorities are totally out of order?!?! Before she worries about ANYTHING else related to what she should know about dating, bitch needs to get her ass on an elliptical and cut back on the motherfuckin beef fajitas! WHAT MAN PROBLEMS can you possibly have if no man will even talk to you to begin with?!

To irritate me further, after she finished reading that stupid article on dating, she then proceeded to read a COOKING MAGAZINE, and it was NOT Cooking Light or some other diet magazine. It had recipes that use ingredients like … ugh … BUTTER and SUGAR.

Clearly, Plump Passenger isn’t even trying! And what I wonder is, WHY NOT?! Don’t fat people realize that shedding their fat shells is the answer to all of their problems?

Fatties, I’m going to answer all of your questions right now:

Q: Why doesn’t anyone hit on me?
A: Because you’re fat.

Q: Why won’t anyone love me?
A: Because you’re fat.

Q: Why don’t any of my friends invite me to go out with them at night? Why do they only invite me to lunch on Sunday?
A: Because you’re fat.

Q: Why won’t anyone extend a job offer to me?
A: Because you’re fat.

Q: Why are you being so mean to me?
A: Because you're fat.

Look at that. I just solved all of your personal and professional problems in one fell swoop! God I am a truly efficient Asian.

Now get your life in order by putting down that brownie and familiarizing yourself with your new best friend, Hunger.

I am "The Stiletto"

Wow! I just took the OKCupid dating persona test and received the result below. It's as though the test was written by The Man AKA God himself. How did they figure me out after I answered so few questions?!?! I'm impressed.

The Stiletto

Edgy. Physical. Devastating. You are The Stiletto, of all types, the most likely to be a dominatrix and the least likely to apologize.

Sex is your object, and you have a LOT of it. Doubtless, you’ve figured out how easy it is for a dominant, assertive woman to have as many and whichever partners as she chooses. You’re in control, you know what you want, and you get it, right there. It’s highly likely you have a nice body, and it’s even more likely we’re getting all turned on right now writing this.

You’re generally careful with your actions and words, but your test answers indicate you’ve hurt some people, drawn some blood. This means one of two things. Either you’re calculating, and pain is just part of your game plan, or hurting the occasional guy is just the unfortunate, but natural, byproduct of your liberated sexual existence.

Our tendency is to believe the latter: you’re willing to engage men on a basic sexual level, and clearly they’re attracted to you. It’s understandable that a few might get overly attached, and sometimes harshness is the only way for you to escape: you’ve got to cut your way out. After all, it’s not emotional bondage you’re looking for right now.

Banging for Bags

In case you haven’t already noticed, in addition to being a heinous snotty bitch, I’m also obsessed with nice things. And by “nice,” I mean “expensive” (just in case you're an oblivious retard and that wasn’t clear as day).

Unfortunately for my love of all things expensive, I recently ditched my sweet ass gig on Wall Street where I was highly overpaid. This has left my appetite for designer clothing and accessories highly unsatisfied. I mean, clothes just gets so boring after you've already worn it! UGH! Why can't I wear something only once and then just chuck it in the trash can where it belongs?! Let some fucking homeless person suffer in last season's Marc Jacobs dress! My life is so hard. "America Land of Plenty" my ass!

Anyhow, I decided to find a way to supplement my income. Did I get a second job? Fuck no! That would have totally left me with inadequate time to pursue my passion for Grey Goose tonics with extra limes.

Instead, I decided that I should start fucking a rich dude in exchange for trinkets such as… oh I dunno… Christian Louboutin pumps and Bottega Veneta bags.

Finding rich mofos ain’t easy, especially because I’m a dorky number cruncher, not a statuesque model. So I decided to turn to the one thing in the world that has never failed me – the internet!

I posted a profile on SeekingMillionaires, and within 1 day started an email conversation with someone. And never have I felt filthier in my entire life. So of course I’m going to post the emails on this blog over the next few days!!!

Here are the first few. If exchanging sex for money makes you at all uncomfortable, I advise you against reading any further. If, on the other hand, you are like me and find exchanging sex for money FUCKING HILARIOUS, then LAP IT UP, motherfuckers!

Email 1: Millionaire to Me
You are so adorable it's sickening. You know... I think I can tell a little bit about you from your profile. You have good girl looks, but every once in a while, have bad girl tendencies. Kinda cute. ...just a vibe. How's the site working out for you? ...let me guess, you're probably getting quite a few creepy men sending you emails.....

Email 2: Me to Millionaire
Bad girl tendencies? Ha! Wouldn't you like to know... The emails I've received HAVE been creepy, but they're also ridiculously entertaining. And what are you hoping to find on the site?

Email 3: Millionaire to Me
You bet I'd like to know!! Do tell how bad you are (1-10) I'm a 9, haha LOL What brings you here? Curiosity, or perhaps an old man sex fetish, HaHa. Don't lie I know quite a few asian girls that have that fetish.

Email 4: Me to Millionaire
If you think you're a 9, then I must be at least a ... 12? Ha! And I do NOT have a grandpa fetish!! So what do you do in LA when you're not being naughty? (we can get to the naughty details later ...)

Email 5: Millionaire to Me
Oh I know you are energetic. The old man fetish is not for an acticity partner. Like I said, I have a friend who just loves how extremely taboo and naughty it is for a young asian girl to fuck an old horny white man. She likes getting fucked and sucking his cock while she playfully calls him daddy. But once the hour long fun is over, she is back with her young energetic friends and she looks innocent on the outside. That is her dirty dark secret. If you are a 12 you must have something like that. If you are a 12 I'm a 15. Cause I could think of all kinds of things I'd want to do with and to you, and I bet you'd veto them. Here is your chance to prove me wrong (all girls love doing that) and get to the naughty details in one easy motion :)

Mmmhmmmm..... Can't wait to see what happens next!

WTF? I'm a STAR!

Okay, not really. But I checked my stats, and apparently I’ve had 300 unique visitors this year. Haaaa! WHO THE HELL ARE you people?! WTF?! People in China and the UK know how to use the internet?! And they read my blog?!?! (Disclaimer: not all American women are easy, foul-mouthed, impeccably dressed, incredibly witty, unbelievably perceptive whores like me. Unfortunately for all Americans, there is only one of me tottering about in the bars of this great nation.)

I DEFINITELY don’t have 300 friends (unless we count one night stands, in which case the number is closer to 457), so there are some strangers out there who know a lot of crazy shit about my pathetic love life. But I commend their discriminating taste. A lot of blogs out there are complete crap, and this one is clearly The Millennium Star (the largest diamond in the world - 203.04 carats - which I plan on receiving from my future husband someday) of the blogosphere.

Also, I recently met my first fans! Yes, I just typed “fans” with an “S,” and it wasn’t a typo. Can you believe it? AND they were DUDES. Straight ones!

If I have straight male readers, then this opens a whole new world of opportunity for me: my blog is now a funnel for me to acquire DATES. Yeahhhhh, baby! Any man who would still want to date me after reading my bullshit is DEFINITELY a keeper. Or is at least worthy of buying me an expensive sushi dinner. Or jewelry. Or shoes.

What an efficient screening mechanism this is! It pretty much scares off weak, sexually inexperienced pussies who can’t accept the fact that a woman is funnier and more aggressive than they.

God. And if a man ever quoted my blog on our date, and I’d strap on knee pads and suck his cock like it was a creamsicle in the Sahara Dessert.

My new goal is to get ONE date as a result of this blog. SO WHO WILL THE LUCKY MAN BE?! And is he prepared for me to chronicle his failures for all 300 of my readers (soon to grow to ALL THE WORLD) to see?!

If YOU are a straight male delusional enough to think you can handle me (I'm certain that there isn't a man alive who can), then send me an email. Please include two photos - one full body photo and one photo of your package - as well as your most recent W-2.

Also, please note that there is a 99% chance I'll post your email on this blog and shred you like you're the wrapping paper standing between me and a pair of Prada platforms.

But FIRST, you must take the quiz below.

THE QUIZ: If any of the following describes you, then add or subtract points as indicated.

- Over 5'10": +10
- Under 5'8": Stop wasting my time
- Workout 4 or more days per week: +10
- Cock over 6": +10
- Cock under 4": How have you not killed yourself yet? Get the fuck off my blog
- Brown hair: + 10
- Red hair: -10
- Drive a Bentley coupe: +100
- Drive a Vespa: -10
- Work on Wall Street: +20
- Work in Tech: +10
- Work in Retail: -10
- Job title starts with "Chief" and ends with "Officer:" +20
- Have a dog: +5
- Have a PUPPY: +10
- Married: +0 if you answered "yes" to the Bentley coupe; otherwise, go fuck yourself
- College degree from Ivy caliber school: +10
- College athlete: +200 for soccer players and swimmers; +100 for all others EXCEPT golfers (I said "athlete," damnit! Learn to read.)
- Graduate degree: +10
- Dress like a Persian from LA: -20
- Non-smoker: +10
- Willing to let me berate you in bed: +10
- Willing to have sex in public places: +10
- Like it rough: +10
- Typically refer to sex as "fucking" and NEVER as "making love": +10
- Like girls with meat on them: God bless you. +10
- You've set up an RSS feed for my blog: +50

So what's your score? This score represents the percent chance I'd fuck you if I met you.

You'll notice that according to this quiz, as long as you're not a short, uneducated redhead with a tiny dick who smokes, dresses like a Persian from LA, and works at Banana Republic, then I'd pretty much do you. Based on my sexual history, I'd say that that sounds about right.

Let the games begin! May the best man win.

And please forward this post to any man whom you think is worthy of my "affection."

Confession: I Have an Eating Disorder

Whenever I come home wasted, I absolutely HAVE TO binge on something. This past Thursday, I ate:

- an entire pizza
- a half a bag of chips and salsa
- a cup of ice cream
- a bowl of ramen
- a bag of popcorn

By myself. And I would’ve eaten more, but, thankfully, I fucking ran out of food!

This is clearly a problem because it makes me FAT, and the Hot All-American Corn Fed Wall Street Boys whom I [unsuccessfully] pursue do NOT fuck fat girls. I’ve noticed that they have a penchant for anorexic white blonde girls that do Teach for America. I have nothing in common with this girl. Actually, I would even go so far as to say that I LOATHE THIS GIRL.

So, given this information, how can I ensnare the Elusive White Dude?

I’ve tried and failed at a number of possible solutions to this problem.

Potential Solution #1: Develop Anorexia
Gotta say – this is harder than it looks. I have newfound respect for girls whose clavicles jut out so far they could cut your face. I’ve repeatedly tried to starve myself, but I fail miserably every time. I think the longest I’ve starved myself is 3 hours. I don’t know how stupid teenage girls do it. If I ever come across an anorexic girl on her death bed, I’d totally high five her. Then hit her up for starvation tactics. I can already imagine our conversation: "It totally sucks that you're about to die, but you look SUPER HOT."

Potential Solution #2: Bleach Hair
This is totally pathetic, but I’ve also tried to bleach my hair blonde, and I learned the hard way that Asians look like morons as “blondes.” Who would’ve thought?! Despite paying over $200 at a high-end salon, my goddamn hair turned orange, which is basically the color that "redheads" have. And no one is attracted to redheads. NO ONE. Not even redheads. They're the 2nd to the bottom rung in the dating game, superior only to the HIV positive morbidly obese.

Potential Solution #3: Teach Children
Haaaaaaa! Would YOU want me teaching your children? That would DEFINITELY not make our future brighter. We’d be totally fucked (unless you like the idea of me encouraging your 10 year-old daughter to wear stilettos, masturbate, and berate men). Also, I hate kids. And I’m fairly certain that they hate me, too. Perhaps they, like dogs, can sense evil?

So what the fuck am I supposed to do?

Things seem hopeless, but I have good news. I’ve found a solution for my eating disorder. And if any of you out there suffer from the same problem as me, it’s TOTALLY something that you can do, too.

I’ve stumbled upon one thing that can keep me from binging on junk food while drunk, and it is…… BINGING ON COCK!!!

No, I’m not talking about poultry. I’m talking about big (if I’m lucky) hard (it better be) circumsized (or uncircumsized) man cock!

Yes, it’s a truly elegant cure for my eating disorder. Not only does cock cost me nothing, but I burn a shitload of calories riding it AND it’s CALORIE FREE!!!! (As long as I don’t swallow…FYI semen has about 5 calories per ejaculation. I totally looked it up.)

This means that whenever I go out, I now have an alternative to getting fat –getting laid!! And we all know which one I’d choose.

Watch out, world. I’m gonna lose some serious weight and become a serious whore.

What an ingenious problem solver I am. Why do people keeping telling me I "need help?” Ridiculous. Clearly, my life is in order.