Magic Wand

For whatever reason, I attract people to me, who feel the need to spill their every secret. I wish this would stop. It always happens when I’m not in the mood to be chatty. I choose the word secret because I feel a lot of the times when I am told things… they are usually things, I would suspect, are never told. To anyone. Anywhere on the planet. Ever. Except to me. Oh, I’m a lucky girl. For example, this guy I had a brief; Yet, informative conversation states to me: I broke up with my girlfriend to give my wife a chance to make things right… I’m a good dude. But my wife didn’t pick up the dogs today after going out with her friends last night so fuck her. I’m a good guy. So I asked my girlfriend to move out because I needed a pause. I’m sorry, douche bag says what?!  Well nothing I’m say is going to come out right no matter what I say. I feel a sneeze coming on – ACH-LOOOOSER! Excuse me, you were saying flim-flam mcgee?

So, let me get this straight… Your giving your marriage a “2nd chance” and asked your girlfriend to move out so that this could happen. A uniquely defined “pause.” For you’re girlfriend. Who doesn’t know your said pause is to make your marriage work. Your WIFE, forgot to pick up the dogs and take them who cares where, so fuck her -the wife, not the girlfriend- you’re over the wife and now are going to have the girlfriend move back in? Over dogs? But you love them both? hmmm… let me think about this. Oh! I got it. You’re an asshole. Not a good guy at all. Why is this guy trying to convince me he’s great anyway? Why does my opinion matter? It doesn’t. And you can see all over his face the panic that he can tell my insignificant ass doest believe any of the bull crap coming out of his pie hole. I try, but I can’t bite my tongue on this walking relationship catastrophe, so I before I can stop my words, I say, well, it sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself you’re a good guy but you’re really a two timing dick. Oops. I tried. There was sincerity in there. A little bit. Right? This is the type of bologna I hear that makes me NEVER want a relationship. Ever. Why play games with those women? What’s wrong with you? Why play games at all? This isn’t Parcheesi. I don’t get it. I want someone who I think is special and great… and who thinks the same of me. Geesh. Get castrated, you neanderthal. You clearly, can’t handle your penis responsibility. If you want to try your hot dog out on many different types of buns, then at least be straight up honest about it and not string along your sesame seeded bun on the side. I hope both those women dump you. And your hot dog. 

On the subject of people talking to me about random things…
The same day I run into a very attractive guy who proceeds to open up with a rather odd conversation where a man told me that he has the ability to… Uh… Service himself. Slow down. I know what you’re thinking. All guys do that. Yes, true. And most girls. Well, most girls should be anyway… It would alleviate a lot of female internal self esteem issues. Maybe I’m wrong; But, when you know what you need… Shrugs. I stray from the point. Kids, if you’re under 18. Close this post NOW. It only gets dirtier from here. And I’m not proud of it. But I’m going to continue writing about it anyway. Mostly because I have no shame. The visual this gentleman gave me, wasn’t of a gesture with his hand. Like I, or you, would presume. No. He sort of… Bent over? Forwards? To motion that he can indeed serve himself to his own junk. With his mouth. Orally…

Go ahead. Sit on that visual. Stew on it. Riiiight. I thought he was kidding. He wasn’t. I wished he was kidding. No I didn’t. I had so many questions! I was like a little kid here. Try and stop me. I will chase you around this parking lot until I get answers. Throwing rocks. Or soda cans. Here I am, seated with a literal circus freak. An, in the flesh, wizardry yielding self-pleasing man-whore… Who whores on himself… ON HIMSELF! This conversation can only go south folks. It already has. And, I HAD to know more! Once in a while, even I’m entertained by intrigue. Or my perversion. Either way. If I have to abracadabra you to make you stay, this conversation was continuing. Isn’t spellbinding a sign of love? No. A man with supernatural powers was present, in front of me. This enchanting sorcerer is WAY better than the cheating gimp I couldn’t escape fast enough earlier. Screw that guy. I found a unicorn.

I wondered, if you had a girlfriend, would you let her see you do this magic trick? No. Is it that you are flexible? I don’t know. How did you figure out you could even do this? Uh, I tried it. Do ALL guys try to do this? Yes. At least once? Yes. At 14? Yes. Is your magic stick… uh larger than average? If I say yes, will all these questions stop? No. Why are you able to do this? I want to break out in tarantism right now. And everyone who knows me knows I love to dance. And why aren’t you home right now… doing this? On a web cam. You’re missing out on your million dollars. I’d pay to see that magic wand. What’s your job? Flight attendant. That would definitely make airline food more interesting. Pass me the pretzels.