For the record, I was NOT fishing for compliments in my last post when I said, “This post was boring as fuck.” but damn I reeled you fuckers right in! Thanks for reading and keep those motherfucking comments comin you gullible fuckers!
There I was sitting with my friends at dinner (Sam-Connor’s NOT girlfriend/introducer of word skeeze, Connor- my awesome roommate, and Hunter- my fluffy ex-boyfriend who I will refer to as the fire whisperer). Rather than talking about *whisper* rape like on my trip to KC, we decided to talk about a much more intellectual subject…sucking cock. Connor asked Sam and I if, for one million dollars, we would suck the cock of any fine gentleman. Sam and I quickly said “FUCK NO.” Connor and the fire whisperer quickly replied, “WHY THE FUCK NOT?” They both confirmed that they would suck any cock for one million dollars…then I was like, “What? I can’t hear you from my ethical high horse.” We are at a restaurant during this conversation surrounded by older adults and small children who keep shooting angry glances our way when they hear the words dick, cock, and suck coming from our table….which was virtually every other word. Did I just hear them say sucking cock? I know I just heard them say sucking cock. “Honey, they are talking about cock sucking over there.” I’ve become almost one hundred times more comfortable talking about sucking dick than I was before this dinner. Here’s me thoughts (I accidently typed “me” instead of “my” but I’ve decided to just go with it) If you start out sucking cock for one million dollars, then what would you do for a billion dollars? You need somewhere you can move up from…like I will let you gently grope me for one million dollars, then we will see where things go. If you want a kitten, start out by asking for a horse. You get my drift? Then came the discussion about glory holes…christ.
I told my old roommates about this conversation last night (Conner- my other Conner, notice it’s spelled with an “e” and Sean- who prefers to be called Preston on my blog for no apparent reason). I couldn’t believe how similarly the conversation went. They agreed they would suck any dick for one million dollars and would probably do it for much less. Preston even threw out a $100 minimum, adding later that it’s “just like licking your arm.” It almost disturbingly is. He suggested that there’s men out there with a million dollars just waiting for someone to suck his dick so he can give them the million dollars…Oh Preston, guess you should suck every guy’s dick just in case. As with my other friends, this topic somehow led us to glory holes…that’s some fucked up shit. On the plus side, we were at a bar, which is a slightly more acceptable place to talk about sucking dick right? After bragging to them that I’ve never been refused at a pool table (thanks to pool players 1-4 if you’ve been keeping up with my blog), Conner said they will refuse me once he tells them I won’t suck cock…not even for a million dollars. Touche Conner.
So…I have an addiction. What is it? What is it? What is it, you ask? I have an addiction to making drunken phone calls. I know that I’ve made some improvements because I no longer limit these phone calls to ex-boyfriends, but have extended these to my friends, old roommates, new roommate, and other random contacts in my phone. Drumroll please…I made a drunken phone call to a girl last night, Kelsey. Kelsey is my blonde friend with T-swift hair and a no-shame way of listening to pop music. I was like, “Kelsey I made three drunken phone calls last night and you were one of them. You should be honored to have made the cut.” Forget facebook friend requests, if you want to confirm our friendship, just ask yourself if I have ever drunk texted/called you. If the answer is yes…we are true friends. The more frequently I choose to contact you in my drunken state likely indicates the growth in our relationship. Kelsey, our friendship has really blossomed.
With last night’s clothes scattered across the floor, my high heels on the kitchen counter, and halfway decent second-day makeup; I’m headed to tax free weekend to shop until I drop…and when I say drop…I mean bass.