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.
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