Kiss Me Thru The Phone

Or just spare me the nonsense altogether.

Forget about all of the shit that is written about how to fuck like a stud. People are getting ahead of themselves. Let's start with the basics. Let's go back to the PG shit. Ladies, gentlemen and biddies of the nation, for the love of god, let's learn how to fucking kiss.

To be fair, anyone who has ever kissed me never really had a fair shot in the world. I watched Disney movies religiously as a child and those films just make it look sensual as fuck. I always pictured my first kiss to either be while I was knocked out unconscious (...but in a totally non-rapey way) or with a prince disguised as a beast while casually levitating in the air for a bit. I could even beat it to Simba and Nala kicking it in the jungle. Oh, but what a disappointment this kissing business has proven to be.

Sometimes the simplest of tasks are proven to be the most difficult. A decent face-sucking is hard to come by these days.

My first make-out session ever was the cliche bad time. I will call him Muhammad for the sake of privacy. The deed occurred at one of the only high school parties that I ever attended. After a few too many Coca colas, shit started getting weirddddddd. Muhammad took me to a lovely field of grass outside. Under the stars and among the musical stylings of crickets he proceeded to lick my entire face clean, kind of like my dog.

Okay, I thought, this is what making out means. This is nice? This is...hot?

I did not know if I should tell him to go fetch or scratch his belly but after that experience I practically needed a towel to dry off my face. I would have had to ring that bad boy out a few times. Of course at the time I never told anyone of this disconcerting experience. It did not matter! I made out with a guy and EVERYBODY knows there is no wrong way of doing that. RIGHT?? WRONG!!!!!!

When I went to college, I made the usual freshman rounds of making out with a couple of randos. This is when I learned that my romantic night with Muhammad slobbering all over me was not anything to be proud of. Do not get me wrong, boys in college did not know how to kiss a bitch either. Either there was too much tongue, there was too little tongue, it was too loud, it was the wrong angle or...too garlic breath-y. I thought I had seen the worst but it was not until fairly recently that I discovered the worst type of kissing, the most perturbing of the mistakes. Biddies, I present to you: the "stiff tongue."

I kid you not. Again, for privacy purposes, I am going to go ahead and call this young lad Sparky. Sparky is the worst of the kissers for two reasons. First of all, Sparky thought he knew it all when it came to loving the ladies. Cockiness leads to stubbornness, stubbornness leads to ignorance... and ignorance is, well, ignorant!

Second of all, the "stiff tongue" is the most offensive way of kissing a human being. All it does is cause confusion and ultimately de-bonifies the biddy. 

Now let me describe to you the "stiff tongue" phenomenon. The subject, in this case it was Sparky, inserts their tongue into their partner's mouth (similar to how one would stick an erect dick inside a who-ha). Next, ya just kind of leave it there. Perhaps, at times make a few fast jerking motions with it, but essentially the subject believes his/her work is now finished. This is the "stiff tongue." It is a real thing. A real problem, if you will.

Now, I am a nice person... to your face, at least. (Give me a phone or a computer and I can turn real bitchy, real fast! Hiding behind technology is the best!) But being the fake nice person that I am, I pretended like there were no issues with Sparky's kissing. Every time he penetrated my mouth, I tried to think of a game plan. What do I do with this? Do I suck it? Do I flick it with my tongue? Do I challenge him to a tongue duel? Usually I would just let it hang out there and focus my attention on better things. Like the North Korean conflict or global warming.

Offenders like Muhammad and Sparky are a serious problem. If you think about it, kissing is the foundation of coitus. Bad kissing is just the ultimate boner kill. The question now remains: can Muhammad and Sparky be saved? That, my good biddies, is the million dollar question. How do we tell these idiots that they suck without damaging their fragile egos. Men are delicate flowers, after all.

The best kiss I ever received was in the fine town of Ithaca, New York. I was drunk off of roughly 2.75 shots. I even remember the exact spot the magic happened. It was outside of the Terrace dorms. Pierre bestowed a gem of a smooch on me. I swear I saw fireworks. Sparks flew, gosh dung it. It was a real special night, real romantic and shit. Pierre, (your name is not actually Pierre-- well, to be honest, it could possibly be because I can not for the life of me remember your name) if you are reading this, I want you to know that you have given me the biggest gift of all. You have given me hope for the future. Hope for tomorrow and generations to come. For that, I am forever thankful

Until then, you can find me making out with my mirror. He never disappoints, never.

XOXO (emphasis on the X's this time),
Jules

How To Fuck Ten Guys in Ten Days

Hey, Kate Hudson, I have a new romantic comedy for you to star in. This one is sure to be a hit.

With social media being a large part of our daily lives, modern day biddies like myself have been able to make friends without even leaving our house. I twat whenever I so please, post diary entries on my facebook status (usually a Carrie Underwood quote or something dedicated to my current douchebag boyfriend) and instagram pictures of myself doing duck face at all hours of the day. Morning duckface, mid-morning duckface, lunchtime duckface, mid-afternoon duckface, dinnertime duckface, shower duckface, sexual intercourse duckface (the most passionate variety of the duckface) and LASTLY bedtime duckface.

But wait, there's more! With our duck faces in tow, social media has also made it extremely easy for us to get laid. Thanks to the new iPhone application called Tinder, genital Herpes and Chlamydia is never further than a finger tap away. Tinder is an application that finds people in your area who are down to fuck. The application presents you with an array of people near you who are using the application. Being connected to Facebook, Tinder allows you to look at the other candidates' photographs. With these photographs, the Tinder user will essentially rate the person "hot" or "not." If both candidates rate each other "hot," the two are considered a "match" and therefore must fuck. 

Star crossed fuck buddies have an unspoken agreement that penetration will occur during their rendez-vous. This makes things easier for everyone. Before we had online dating websites like OKCupid which was really a sugar-coated Tinder. OKCupid allows its users to sign up for free. The website tells them that they will find love, prince/princess charming and all that other bullshit. In reality, it is not a dating website at all. All OKCupid users want is to get it IN, they just feel the need to beat around the bush in order to do so (Come on, a FREE online dating site, get real). Tinder pretends to be nothing, it stands proud of its boldness, its fearlessness, its sluttiness. 

Logistics of your meet up can be discussed beforehand through messages. Perhaps your future Monday night lover is into a specific type of boning. Maybe they like things of the butt nature, "butt stuff," if you will. Maybe they would like to get down with a chicken costume or two.

Do not worry because the night is sure to be a romantic one. Throw in some Marvin Gaye and let the passionate love making begin. 

When a biddy meets up with a stranger and goes back to their house, they always run the risk of being turned into a lampshade or a nipple necklace... but that is the risk we take when we are craving a little hump day nookie. Unfortunately, just because his profile says he listens to Coldplay and uses the phrase "Nice guys finish last" does not necessarily mean he will not rape and kill you... just putting that out there.

Also, I learned the hard way with this one, just because they put their dick inside of you, does not necessarily mean you are getting a ring. Chivalry is dead my good hoes. The sooner we accept this, the better. 

Sidenote: I have come to realize overtime that if he decides to paper bag your ass, it is probably a bad sign. Men who prefer a smiley face on a bag to your face while banging are probably not that into you (There may be some exceptions to this this rule. For instance, it may indeed be a very sexy smiley face).

On the flip side, there is another type of beast to be aware of while using this sex machine. Ladies and gentlemen, beware of the stalker.  

If by any chance after your sexual encounter you find that they are magically everywhere that you go, you have a stalker situation on your hands. You may want to go ahead and call the cops before they go all coo-coo crazy on your ass. Ya know, like skin your body and wear it as a mask. Hate when that happens.

But all this is neither here nor there. Tinder (and other applications that have similar functions) have opened new horizons for whores all over the world. Men and women all over can let their whore flags fly in ways we never thought possible. After all, talking and getting to know people is known to be a big old waste of time and relationships that I thought were monogamous were proven to be grossly overrated. Tinder will love you the right way, Tinder will never let you down.

Please remember, safe sex is always a plus. And do not fret, the pull-out method is 100% effective, 30% of the time.

I've said it once and I'll say it again:

fuck bitches, get money.

XOXO,

Jules

You're So Fresh 2 Death and Sick as Ca-Cancer

I fancy myself a survivor of sorts.

I have beaten various types of cancer: breast, colon, finger, brain, throat, mouth, skin, blood... prostate (yes, I defied all odds!) So maybe these people that we call "doctors" did not formerly diagnose me with said ailments but as far as I am concerned my struggles have been real. You do not even WANT to know the things I would do to get my hands on a few rounds of chemotherapy. Unspeakable, unspeakable things.

...not to mention my scares with a plethora of other life-threatening beasts. I have had brushes with ALS, MS, Meningitis, Tetanus and...the worst, the disease that forced me to re-evaluate my life, the choices I have made and ultimately changed who I am as like... a human being and shit: Rabies. Such an obstacle to overcome, but dammit, I did it. I have wiped the foam from my mouth and lived to tell the tale... tales... of my pain.

The life of an hypochondriac is a complicated one indeed. Think about it like this: just because you are a "hypochondriac" does not necessarily mean you do not have these life-threatening diseases. In fact, if you are not a proactive hypochondriac, and do not ignore these people who insist there is nothing wrong with you despite WEBMd's careful analysis of your symptoms, you will fall victim to their brainwash and NEVER get your symptoms checked out!! THEY'RE NOT LISTENING TO US!!

Listen to me carefully: you are dying, and don't you EVER let ANYONE convince you otherwise. If you have a sore throat do not assume it is a cold. You are probably dying of throat cancer. Stiff neck? You are on the verge of meningitis. Headache? You have probably fallen victim to a brain-eating amoeba (say your final good byes, give your dog one last pet and give your bottom bitch one last boning).

Then kiss your life goodbye.

Two years ago when I was in the midst of my battle with rabies, I brought my ass to the doctor. I was convinced that a red mark on my leg was a bat bite. I had spent days before searching high and low in my house for evidence of this supposed bat, but I never found the phantom creature. But still, I thought, this IS a bat bite and therefore rabies is inevitable. My physician looked at the bite, sat down and stared at me perplexed. "You didn't find a bat in your house?" "No..." "You don't remember being in contact with a bat?" "No, but I looked up on google images what a bat bite looks like and this looks about right." All I left the doctor's office with that day was a phone number...of a psychiatrist.

The clincher? My physician quit the job weeks later. Coincidence or not? I guess my possible bout with rabies forced her to give up the one hundred years she spent in medical school. I would like to believe that only I  have the power to bring someone to that breaking point. I'm a little ashamed... but mostly proud.

What's more, she definitely forced me to re-evaluate my life as a hypochondriac. I was almost ready to give up on all of the diseases that I was convinced that I had.

...but no, as a good biddy should, I stayed the course. I kept my eye on the prize. You should never give up on your dreams. "Shoot for the moon, even if you miss, you'll land amongst the stars," is what was written on my third grade classroom wall. That always stuck with me, only in this specific case though. Everything else in my life I pretty much gave up after the first try (soccer, dancing, field hockey, school).

One colonoscopy, 3 ultrasounds, 5 EKGs, 2 heart monitors, one foot exam, 10 spinal exams,  one spinal tap, 3 MRIs, 5 pap smears, 20 blood tests and 3 urine samples later I got (some of) what I was looking for.

My Diagnoses

-Flat feet
-Factor V Liden Gene Mutation
-Unidentified heart murmur
-Scoliosis
-Vitamin E Deficiency

I will never stop searching. An endless seeker of maladies, if you will.

A special shout out to my main hypochondriac biddy: Stephanie Spencer. She is a dedicated pioneer to our movement to say the least #besties.

XOXO,
Jules

P.S. The first step of Hypochondriacs Anonymous is admitting you don't have a problem

... and I NEVER will.

He Moved Into the City and Now He's GAY

GAWDDDD GAY!!!!

Alright people, as I have said before, I try to steer clear from politics and other nonsensical bullshit, but once in a while I find myself caught up in the fray. Usually I like to stick to the hard hitting stories, the stuff we should really care about like Real Housewives or Pretty Little Liars. I decided to make an exception this one time only because I am feeling a little coo-coo cray cray. 

As you can probably tell from my introduction and title, I am talking about homosexuals today. Thoughts of sexuality rarely cross my mind, or at least anyone else's other than my own (I'm a little self-involved, sue me!) However, all of this talk about gay marriage lately has got me thinking (and this is something I try to avoid as much as possible as a young biddy).  Why should gay people be denied, nay, exempt from this archaic, bullshit institution? What makes them so damn special? Why shouldn't they have to suffer along with the rest of us? Not okay.

Homosexuals across the land should feel lucky for not having to fear the "weird cat lady" title (or in my case, that weird lady with crabs... hermit ones, that is). I was told at a very young age by my peers that I best be finding a man or I am a first class loser.

GET A HUSBAND ALREADY!!

For as long as I can remember I was always pretty behind on this "boy rush," so to speak. I felt little need to associate with these type of folk, you know, the ones with the penis and what have you.

So yeah, my "cooties" phase may or may not have ended just yesterday, do not judge me. The only way I survived high school was by making up lies of my crazy sexcapades in foreign lands (so people would never find out that I was actually just home baking chocolate chip cookies and making power point presentations of pictures of dogs. Hey, those transitions were fucking badass!) But I digress... back to my point, if I was not straight I would never be expected to marry someone I hated and have to resort to alcohol and crystal meth. You know, the things that marriage tends to lead to (or so I hear).

If I have to do this shit, so should everyone else. After all, it's all about me at the end of the day.

Let me tie this all together real pretty for ya. Marriage is a punishment that we all have the right to experience at some point. The more I think about same-sex marriage, the more I think of it as less of a political issue but more of a moral one. We all have the right to stick our hand into a burning flame or gouge our eyes out with needles, so we should all have the right to force ourselves to sleep with the same numb nut for the rest of our life. 

I also can not help but feel like the homophobic shit dicks that make up our country and government are just one huge, continuous cock block. It is time to undo the cock blocking. It is time to guide the cock, if you will.

All kidding aside, as a straight female living in our society I recognize the privilege I have of being able to exercise my right of marriage. 

However, I respectfully decline this nonsense. 

Peace, Love & Ugg slippers

XOXO,

JULES

P.S. Biddies 4 gay marriage! <3>