We all know, guys never understand girls, girls are always disappointed by guys.
As a result, I encourage you, when you have relationship problems, talk to a girl friend if you are a guy, and talk to a guy friend if you are a girl.
Advice from girl friends, if you are a girl, strengthens the idea that you deserve better, and you should leave him.
Advice from guy friends, if you are a guy, makes you think what she said was what she meant, and you are not good enough for her, and you should leave her.
Seriously.
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Bush or No Bush
Bambi was schooled by two Easter European lately about her pubic hairstyle, which is considered as the "Pre 1975" style: no shave what-so-ever.
It raised some serious challenges against the life value she was born with: Women should not be shaving for the sake of men's pleasure.
Regardless, this has been the top of her research list, trying to find a reason to convince herself it's bad to shave, or the other way around. Right now, she is leaning towards neither.
Bambi stayed over at my place last night. As I was making us some late night snacks, I scratched my crotch (outside my pants. I pay attention to hygiene when I cook.).
Bambi: Why are you scratching？
Me: Coz it's growing out.
Bambi: Can I see it? You don't have to, but I'm curious at what length you start to itch.
Me: OK.
Bambi: Can you lower your panties a little more? I want to see what it's like down there.
Me: OK.
Bambi: Does it hurt down there when the hair gets just long enough to poke the middle part?
Me: No. The meat in the middle is cuddled by the meat on the side, and there are gaps, so the hair won't reach the middle.
Bambi: Hmmm. Everyone's vagina is not designed the same though.
Me: True. Maybe you can interview a few others, and get an average point of view.
Bambi: Good idea.
The next day we realized it was absolutely gay and gross, but completely understandable and acceptable.
Bambi, for your reference, here's the history of pubic hairstyle:
Also, some helpful information from WikiPedia:
"It is unusual for pubic hair to be dyed or painted, except incidentally to bodypainting, but although concerns have been raised about the safety of using regular hair dye for this purpose, dye has been formulated so that women may match their pubic hair either to match the (dyed) hair on their heads (colloquially referred to as 'matching the carpet to the drapes' or 'collar and cuffs'), or in whimsical colours."
It raised some serious challenges against the life value she was born with: Women should not be shaving for the sake of men's pleasure.
Regardless, this has been the top of her research list, trying to find a reason to convince herself it's bad to shave, or the other way around. Right now, she is leaning towards neither.
Bambi stayed over at my place last night. As I was making us some late night snacks, I scratched my crotch (outside my pants. I pay attention to hygiene when I cook.).
Bambi: Why are you scratching？
Me: Coz it's growing out.
Bambi: Can I see it? You don't have to, but I'm curious at what length you start to itch.
Me: OK.
Bambi: Can you lower your panties a little more? I want to see what it's like down there.
Me: OK.
Bambi: Does it hurt down there when the hair gets just long enough to poke the middle part?
Me: No. The meat in the middle is cuddled by the meat on the side, and there are gaps, so the hair won't reach the middle.
Bambi: Hmmm. Everyone's vagina is not designed the same though.
Me: True. Maybe you can interview a few others, and get an average point of view.
Bambi: Good idea.
The next day we realized it was absolutely gay and gross, but completely understandable and acceptable.
Bambi, for your reference, here's the history of pubic hairstyle:
"It is unusual for pubic hair to be dyed or painted, except incidentally to bodypainting, but although concerns have been raised about the safety of using regular hair dye for this purpose, dye has been formulated so that women may match their pubic hair either to match the (dyed) hair on their heads (colloquially referred to as 'matching the carpet to the drapes' or 'collar and cuffs'), or in whimsical colours."
Enjoy Being Assholes, Girls
Bambi and I had an awesome girls night out last night.
After a long break from dancing, and recent encounters with shitty bars and gross old men, we went out with high heels, ambition, and random anger.
Eight things we did in 4 hours made us proud, real proud. That's two per hour.
1. Two guys took our cab when Bambi and I were already late to the party. After they got in the car, I walked over to the car, leaned towards the window, and said:"Guys, we were here first, but we will let you go."
2. We sat down in the bar, facing a group across the table. This tall blonde girl was sitting like a guy, and completely exposing her underwear, which looked like a dirty cream one. We told all our friends to look at her. I took a picture of her crotch with flash off. Bambi said the Indian guy across from her was checking her crotch out the whole time. We all agreed that she could have worn a sexier underwear if she likes exposing herself.
As the group was leaving, the girl stood up. The underwear we thought she was exposing, was actually a cream pair of shorts, half covered by her top when she was sitting down.
Good thing we didn't go over and tell her that we didn't enjoy the view of the white fence.
3. Outside of the bar, a guy who was ultra buff from hip and above, but had skinny legs said hello to Bambi. Bambi turned to us, speaking in Chinese, said he needed to lose some weight. Guy sensed it:"Hey don't judge me." Bambi:"No I didn't."
4. Entered the dance club, a complete sweat house. I went to the bar to get drinks for all of us. Bar tenders were VERY slow. A big guy squeezed in from the side, and knock me away from the counter. "HELLO, I AM STANDING HERE!" "Sorry, I was just trying to close the tab..." Poor guy.
5. On the dance floor now, one creepy guy kept getting closer and closer to us, and staring at our friend without a blink. Bambi walked over to the guy:"Can you stop staring at my friend? You are creepy."
6. Later a short and weird looking guy approached us. My friend whispered to me:"He's creepy. Don't dance with him." "Oh OK." Then I turned around and started dancing with him right away. You can't pass the opportunity to dance with a short and ugly guy, too much fun. And turned out he was a really good dancer, and super nice.
7. Bambi was dancing with a guy who likes to grab girl's butt when he dances, and put his leg in-between hers. He explains:"This is the Georgian style." Bambi:"I think it's more like 'I-want-to-fuck-you-right-now style."
8. Leaving the crazy night, I saw a guy asking for Facebook from two girls on the street. "Facebook is not sincere! Ask for phone numbers!" I yelled.
Yup, we are crazy bitches - them normal bitches can't compete. And we feel great.
After a long break from dancing, and recent encounters with shitty bars and gross old men, we went out with high heels, ambition, and random anger.
Eight things we did in 4 hours made us proud, real proud. That's two per hour.
1. Two guys took our cab when Bambi and I were already late to the party. After they got in the car, I walked over to the car, leaned towards the window, and said:"Guys, we were here first, but we will let you go."
2. We sat down in the bar, facing a group across the table. This tall blonde girl was sitting like a guy, and completely exposing her underwear, which looked like a dirty cream one. We told all our friends to look at her. I took a picture of her crotch with flash off. Bambi said the Indian guy across from her was checking her crotch out the whole time. We all agreed that she could have worn a sexier underwear if she likes exposing herself.
As the group was leaving, the girl stood up. The underwear we thought she was exposing, was actually a cream pair of shorts, half covered by her top when she was sitting down.
Good thing we didn't go over and tell her that we didn't enjoy the view of the white fence.
3. Outside of the bar, a guy who was ultra buff from hip and above, but had skinny legs said hello to Bambi. Bambi turned to us, speaking in Chinese, said he needed to lose some weight. Guy sensed it:"Hey don't judge me." Bambi:"No I didn't."
4. Entered the dance club, a complete sweat house. I went to the bar to get drinks for all of us. Bar tenders were VERY slow. A big guy squeezed in from the side, and knock me away from the counter. "HELLO, I AM STANDING HERE!" "Sorry, I was just trying to close the tab..." Poor guy.
5. On the dance floor now, one creepy guy kept getting closer and closer to us, and staring at our friend without a blink. Bambi walked over to the guy:"Can you stop staring at my friend? You are creepy."
6. Later a short and weird looking guy approached us. My friend whispered to me:"He's creepy. Don't dance with him." "Oh OK." Then I turned around and started dancing with him right away. You can't pass the opportunity to dance with a short and ugly guy, too much fun. And turned out he was a really good dancer, and super nice.
7. Bambi was dancing with a guy who likes to grab girl's butt when he dances, and put his leg in-between hers. He explains:"This is the Georgian style." Bambi:"I think it's more like 'I-want-to-fuck-you-right-now style."
8. Leaving the crazy night, I saw a guy asking for Facebook from two girls on the street. "Facebook is not sincere! Ask for phone numbers!" I yelled.
Yup, we are crazy bitches - them normal bitches can't compete. And we feel great.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
What Should A Heavy Metal Rock Star Look Like?
Made some friends at the Canadian embassy. Who would be at a Canadian embassy? Chinese, Indian, Latin American, and Middle Easterners. The rest of the world doesn't need a VISA to visit Canada. Go figure.
Indian dude asked me out. Never dated Indian guys before. Based on the fact that AJ (Indian) is among one of those nicest guys that are about to extinct, I thought I'd give it a try.
Conversations went really well with Aruna. A 3 hour planned date turned into a full day activity. He was fun, passionate, spontaneous, and we had a lot in common. Under the influence of alcohol and crappy Irish music, I kissed him. The kiss was also passionate, a little too passionate, he started to bite my lips. "I don't like kissing in public" I said and stopped him from biting my lips off. What are you a squirrel?
Aruna told me, he puts all the money he makes at Goldman Sachs into a recording studio in his apartment. Aruna used to be in a band in India, and they signed Sony. Now he's not in a band, but he wants to launch his music soon.
So I said "Why don't we go Karaoke now?!"
Aruna was really good at the first two songs. He was soft, he can go high, and low, and again, passionate. Very charming.
As he warmed up, he started to sing heavy metal songs, such as Paradise City. I was just starting to enjoy it, all of a sudden, he started screaming, like a rock star. No break, just screaming all the way.
I looked at the screen, and listened to Aruna screaming. Hmmm, really sexy rock star voice. Sounds like he would be very strong and take charge in bed. Then I turned to look at Aruna. He's an Indian! And he's screaming and jumping around! My head got confused. Indian singing heavy metal? I can't connect the two. Call me racist, but I just can't build the connection. Indian and heavy metal...no I can't.
I got scared and suggested leaving. Aruna was about to burn a hole in his throat anyway.
Indian dude asked me out. Never dated Indian guys before. Based on the fact that AJ (Indian) is among one of those nicest guys that are about to extinct, I thought I'd give it a try.
Conversations went really well with Aruna. A 3 hour planned date turned into a full day activity. He was fun, passionate, spontaneous, and we had a lot in common. Under the influence of alcohol and crappy Irish music, I kissed him. The kiss was also passionate, a little too passionate, he started to bite my lips. "I don't like kissing in public" I said and stopped him from biting my lips off. What are you a squirrel?
Aruna told me, he puts all the money he makes at Goldman Sachs into a recording studio in his apartment. Aruna used to be in a band in India, and they signed Sony. Now he's not in a band, but he wants to launch his music soon.
So I said "Why don't we go Karaoke now?!"
Aruna was really good at the first two songs. He was soft, he can go high, and low, and again, passionate. Very charming.
As he warmed up, he started to sing heavy metal songs, such as Paradise City. I was just starting to enjoy it, all of a sudden, he started screaming, like a rock star. No break, just screaming all the way.
I looked at the screen, and listened to Aruna screaming. Hmmm, really sexy rock star voice. Sounds like he would be very strong and take charge in bed. Then I turned to look at Aruna. He's an Indian! And he's screaming and jumping around! My head got confused. Indian singing heavy metal? I can't connect the two. Call me racist, but I just can't build the connection. Indian and heavy metal...no I can't.
I got scared and suggested leaving. Aruna was about to burn a hole in his throat anyway.
Paul Van Dyke
What a great night with Paul Van Dyke!
Cranberry vodka on the rocks, and not good. But it kept me dancing.
Dude with sunglasses approaches, so we dance. Boy wanted a kiss, so I removed his sunglasses to take a good look at his face. Meh, maybe not. Hell, what if he's a good kisser. So I let him kiss me. His tongue tastes like a large amount of garlic. "I have to hang out with my friends" I said as I was leaving.
Guy next to me says, "I can't believe you let him kiss you. He's totally not for you." Then he makes his move. "Where do you live?" "I live in XXX." "For real? I live in XXX too!" "Two blocks away!" "No way!" "I have to hang out with my friends"
Ran into the third guy, who is a step up from the first two. He has cute dimples. "Where do you live?" "I live in XXX." "For real? I live in XXX too!" "Two blocks away!" "No way!" "I have to hang out with my friends"
Why the hell did I come all the way to avoid male in my neighborhood, and yet ended up being attractive only to them (and some heavy garlic eater)?
Looking forward to Paul Van Dyke's next concert at a different location. Amen!
Cranberry vodka on the rocks, and not good. But it kept me dancing.
Dude with sunglasses approaches, so we dance. Boy wanted a kiss, so I removed his sunglasses to take a good look at his face. Meh, maybe not. Hell, what if he's a good kisser. So I let him kiss me. His tongue tastes like a large amount of garlic. "I have to hang out with my friends" I said as I was leaving.
Guy next to me says, "I can't believe you let him kiss you. He's totally not for you." Then he makes his move. "Where do you live?" "I live in XXX." "For real? I live in XXX too!" "Two blocks away!" "No way!" "I have to hang out with my friends"
Ran into the third guy, who is a step up from the first two. He has cute dimples. "Where do you live?" "I live in XXX." "For real? I live in XXX too!" "Two blocks away!" "No way!" "I have to hang out with my friends"
Why the hell did I come all the way to avoid male in my neighborhood, and yet ended up being attractive only to them (and some heavy garlic eater)?
Looking forward to Paul Van Dyke's next concert at a different location. Amen!
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Train Ride
Sitting on a 10 hour train ride with my iPhone and iPad. There are a lot of things I could do, such as reading the digital edition of the new Economist issue, or finishing the book that looks deep into international tribal diets to find cure for diabetes, heart diseases, and other modern health issues alike, or starting the new book I downloaded immediately after I saw the title-Why Men Love Bitches, or talking to the gentleman next to me who seems ultra proper and wise.
Instead, I spent at least one hour day-dreaming about having sex. I haven't thought of this subject for a while (note I still haven't been laid since my first blog post).
My body was like an unleashed horse. Imaginations went wild. I blame it on the breath-taking scenery outside of the train window. I think being close to nature calls out all the animal instincts of human beings'. My body answered the call from nature, recognizing where its most hungry part is (I could also have a meat plate now, but my stomach hasn't given me any imagination yet.).
What also triggered it was a text message I received: Come drink with me in my hotel. Haven't heard that long for a long time. I almost replied right away: yes, yes, I can bring a bottle of "oh I blacked out last night. What!? We had sex!? No way!". But I have my principle about guys I pick to sleep with-only strangers and boyfriends. Also, if you think you are so charming and I am so easy, you are not gonna get any (stupid pride a not-so-drop-dead-gorgeous girl has).
In conclusion, I am stuck with day-dream sex when my body is having its highest ambition of achieving climax (check spelling). Tragic.
*I would like to note that it's not my intention to give bad influence to kids by imagining having sex with their teacher, who happens to sit next to me, and seems ultra proper and wise.
Instead, I spent at least one hour day-dreaming about having sex. I haven't thought of this subject for a while (note I still haven't been laid since my first blog post).
My body was like an unleashed horse. Imaginations went wild. I blame it on the breath-taking scenery outside of the train window. I think being close to nature calls out all the animal instincts of human beings'. My body answered the call from nature, recognizing where its most hungry part is (I could also have a meat plate now, but my stomach hasn't given me any imagination yet.).
What also triggered it was a text message I received: Come drink with me in my hotel. Haven't heard that long for a long time. I almost replied right away: yes, yes, I can bring a bottle of "oh I blacked out last night. What!? We had sex!? No way!". But I have my principle about guys I pick to sleep with-only strangers and boyfriends. Also, if you think you are so charming and I am so easy, you are not gonna get any (stupid pride a not-so-drop-dead-gorgeous girl has).
In conclusion, I am stuck with day-dream sex when my body is having its highest ambition of achieving climax (check spelling). Tragic.
*I would like to note that it's not my intention to give bad influence to kids by imagining having sex with their teacher, who happens to sit next to me, and seems ultra proper and wise.
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