Being Awesome: A Guide

So, the other day a friend asked me for advice.

Now, you can probably guess that she wasn't asking me about my fiscal opinions. When people want advice from me, it's usually in some way relating to coitus.

Basically, if I had a batman symbol, it would be a crudely drawn vagina.



Now, I like being the go-to-gal on genital issues. I'm not saying I know all, I am still a youngin' after all, but I know how to phrase things. Things like answers to questions like "I really like this guy and I'd like to go on a date with him but he hasn't asked me, what do I do?"

To which i respond "holy fuck woman, this is the 21st century, grow a pair of hairy cahones and ask him out. Shit only happens if you make it happen" or something of the like. The point I'm trying to make here is I give real advice. I'm not going to say "be patient" or "a positive world view breeds positive living" or mumble something about 'The Secret' or any of that yuppy healthy living positive thinking bullshit. I will tell you straight up that a fuck buddy is nothing more then a fuckbuddy, you can not have 'just' casual sex with your exes and the reason he's not calling you is because you gave it away too early.



That lack of honesty, my friends, is what's wrong with the self-help industry. I'm all for working through your issues with positive reinforcement, but what half the people who read those paper bound bullshit volumes need is a good kick in the ass.

If you're unhappy because you're overweight and fear that the way you look is getting in the way of finding love, go to the gym. Yes, I am sure that you are beautiful on the inside, but if you've identified the problem, fix it.I'm not saying solving your problems, hell even I'm not perfect. But I make my issues work for me. Or, ignore them.

Slow down judgy mcjudgerson, at least it's better then whining.

Frankly, what the world needs is me to write a self-help novel. It'll be called "Shit Only Happens if You Make it Happen" and on the back cover there'll be a picture of me on a chaise lounge wearing a tweed jacket and smoking a pipe.



It'll be to the self-help genre what Catcher in the Rye was to Literature. People will scorn it, fear it, curse me out on Oprah until one day some four cat owning writer from The New Yorker will be like "Man, she's totally right. If I sexify myself up and go for it rather then waiting to be hit on I can get laid."

and then POW there'll be unabashed sexuality everywhere. Chicks will be throwing out rampant pick up lines, dudes will feel a little violated but find they like it and DILFs will be mobbed at the playground. It'll be like the Sexy Apocalypse, and no one will ever be the same.

You can thank me later.

'DILF' of the Week

Liev Schreiber is no Wolverine, but he was a pretty wicked Sabertooth. So, in honor of those sideburns, here's to him as our DILF of the week.

I Have a Degree in Sex-Education

Lately, I've been thinking.



I have no fucking idea what I want to do with my life.

Yes, I realize I'm barely twenty, and have my future ahead of me. But do I really?

No. I do not. I have no fucking future. A future connotes knowing what you want to do with your life. I am an English major. You know what that spells people - Starbucks, and last time i applied there they wouldn't hire me.



The good news is, we're all doomed. Even the one's with engineering degrees. Yeah, I'm talking to you you nerdy bastards. You may have a job waiting for you right out of high school, but will that get you laid!?

Ok, maybe it will. But the point I'm trying to make here is:

Bachelor's degrees do not buy happiness.



In fact, they cost a lot, rarely get you all the education you need, and the only thing they give you is a false sense of security. I want experience people, not a sheet of paper that describes how I've spent four years of my life sitting on my ass, banging my head against my laptop screen and wishing I was somewhere far away.

and I mean far. No snow far, white sand beaches far, so far that a Canadian accent can get you laid. Hell, so far that being white can get you laid. So far that my grammatical errors in essay writing are eclipsed by the fact that I don't speak the local language.

I want to go so far away that when I come back I feel like I'm from a foreign country. I want to have so many travel stories that people call me pretentious at parties but secretly wish they had my life. I want to live without technology for an extended period of time and then brag about on facebook. I want to be "that guy".



But alas, here we are, sitting on our asses about to bang our heads against our laptop screens. We will get that education, we may never get laid for being white and we might end up feeling like the future we're in is no future at all. But hell, at least we've got sex.

and if you don't - holy fuck you deadbeat, move to Japan - I hear that there, being white can get you laid.

'DILF' of the Week

All hail The Dude for his deadbeat wisdom, his wicked beard, and his fashionable bathrobe stylings. The man's an icon people, the symbol of everything sacred about my lifestyle. He is the master of mid-day drinking, a conseuir of sweat pants, and a adept judge of the capabilities of ferrets.

Yeah, i know, you're all thinking "not everybody has a thing for old dudes lacking job security Ella", and I understand that not everybody gets the same urge to lick the remnant's of that white russian off El Duderino's mustache when ever he takes a sip. But take a look at http://www.premiere.com/List/The-100-Sexiest-Movie-Stars-of-All-Time/91.-Jeff-Bridges and tell me the man isn't DILF material.

Jingle Balls, Jingle Balls

Is it just me, or have holidays just become another excuse to try and shove your tongue down somebody’s throat?

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not one to get sentimental about certain days of the year. They happen, I get a day off (hopefully) and participate if I feel like it. But when the hell did they all become hollowed out sexified versions of themselves? Making holidays sexy are the equivilant of turning sex into porn. It’s not what it once was, it’s an emotionless busty copy that when freeze framed looks like nothing but bad decisions and soulless eyes.



I’m all for shit being sexy but this is just out of control. To clear up the difference I suggest we start to distinguish which part of the holidays we’re indulging in (the original or the slutty version) by labeling each by name.

Original/Slutty version

• Halloween/Pay too much money for very little clothing only to puke on it later-ween
• Christmas/Even Santa Claus has a penis-mas
• New Years/ I’m not desperate, it’s New Years.
• Valentine’s Day/ Valentine’s Day
• Easter/ What about Jesus? I was just planning on saying crude things from behind this bunny mask-ter

Why don’t we just be honest with ourselves people. You don’t need a day for the excuse to slut it up. Embrace your need to dress like a tramp or drape phalluses on your person. Be proud of your need to get stupid inebriated in order to approach someone of the opposite sex. Don’t be ashamed about how much money you spent, thats the only way to obtain happiness.



Man up you bitches, stop turning holidays into your coked out porn stars and slut around on non-holidays like us normal folk who don’t need a sexy nurses outfit to advertise our daddy issues.


Coming this December! — Watch in awe as Ella expresses her rage for rampant consumerism by swearing in front of children!

DILF of the Week

Jonathan Cake was in a couple episodes of Chuck, the new horrible show I'm addicted to. He's buff, looks good bloody and has a British accent. All together now ladies and gay boys — "I'd tap that!"