Posts Tagged ‘sex

28
Jun
11

Is it me, or are you the world’s biggest p^ssy? *

Dear Attractive Female with Nice Cleavage at Gate 25,

Maybe if Delta hadn’t screwed me again for the 2nd time in a week. Maybe if the burger I had ordered while waiting at JFK for 5 hours hadn’t been overcooked with the wrong cheese on it. Maybe if the iced tea I ordered hadn’t been peach (with no warning, I hate that crap). Maybe if the two drunk ritards next to us at the gate weren’t so loud and obnoxious. Maybe if I had a bigger set of balls…Maybe I would’ve taken my ipod off and chatted you up. Crap, I just used an incredibly British phrase, I hope I’m not turning into one of those assholes that goes to London for a week and comes back pretending to be English.

Anyway, I’m actually reviewing the last paragraph and realizing it’s not really true. All those things happened to me, yes; but none of them prevented me from talking to you. The only thing that did that was the same thing that prohibits me from talking to a random female at the grocery store. What is that thing? I’m not entirely sure. It’s part because it’s a slightly abnormal social situation, part not wanting to be ‘that guy,’ part being a bit of a p-word when it comes to approaching females.

But at the end of the day, what can I say in that situation that doesn’t make me come off like a skeevy asshole? Besides, you had your headphones in too…it isn’t as if you were inviting some dude that had been traveling for nearly 24 hours (but didn’t smell like it, always throw some deodorant in your carry on when traveling internationally) to hit on you. And let’s not be bashful here, it was going to be an effort to hit on you/flirt with you, even if it was only a mild one. Was there a fleeting moment where I imagined us talking for 10 minutes before sneaking into the bathroom for a quickie? Of course there was. But really, I just wanted to spend 20 minutes talking to an attractive female. Neither happened.

Just do me a favor, next time you travel and don’t want to be bothered, don’t wear a shirt that shows so much cleavage. It attracts attention.

Cheerio,

Jeremy

*Stand By Me

28
Feb
11

dear anne hathway,

And I guess to a certain extent, James Franco, because I think after the debacle that was Oscar night, there are many women & men – not that there is anything wrong with that…no of course not¬† (c’mon people it’s a Seinfeld reference, calm down) – who soured on you after your performance. But since this letter is going to focus on my relationship with Anne, I’ll leave you out of it from now on James, mainly because if I mailed you this letter you’d probably just roll it up and smoke it.

But Anne, my beautiful Anne, what the hell were you doing up there? You came off sometimes as a giddy school girl, and sometimes as a ‘too cool for school’ biatch. Yes, stop, I know the opening bit was hilarious, but that really had nothing to do with you. You didn’t write it, it wasn’t live so you had a chance to actually act (which I think you do quite well quite often), as opposed to freelance during the actual awards. But now that I think of it, you didn’t even have to freelance…you were reading from a teleprompter and still managed to make it seem as awkward¬† as someone trying to argue that “Bride Wars” was a good movie.

Speaking of your movies, it’s going to be tougher and tougher to defend your abilities when you continue to churn out crap like that, not to mention “Get Smart.” I first fell in love you in “The Devil Wears Prada,” which I was forced to watch on a plane, because it was either that or reading a book. And since reading is for losers (just kidding, if it wasn’t for reading I wouldn’t be able to write this well or have the 17 people/day visit my blog), I watched you outshine everyone in that overall brutal movie. And that includes Emily Blunt & Meryl Streep. Then I saw your boobs in “Brokeback Mountain” and “Havoc,” and even though the latter was a garbage movie, boobs are my downfall so I was ready to propose.

Then, just a couple of years ago, the pinnacle of our relationship came during “Rachel Getting Married,” because now not only did you have a smoking body, but you also proved you could act. Now maybe when I rent “Love & Other Drugs” (speaking of which, I get to see you naked again, right?) you’ll reignite the passion in our one-way relationship. Because after last night babe, I think I’m done. I mean, this is just brutal…

Stop waving your effing arms everywhere.

Your Ex-Lover,

Oscar

25
Feb
11

“I got to get outta here, pronto. I got a stage five clinger.” *

Dear Jo,

Why did you have to be so effing crazy? And I’m not just talking typical “I’m a female so I’m going to be just a bit off the reservation.” No no. You were a full 2, maybe 3, cans short of a 6-pack.

You were a friend of a friend (presumably, you still are), and were in town visiting for a long weekend. We kind of clicked from the get go, but unlike everyone else that Memorial Day, I had to work on the Monday…so left the final get together early, and missed out on the part where you made out with one of my friends, and then did substantially more with another (I try to keep this as family friendly as possible, so let it suffice to say that put the initials ‘T’ & ‘F’ together and you can figure it out).

So, I pretty much wrote you off. But two weeks later you were back in town, and all over me. It was tough to resist – you were a league or two above me in the looks department, extremely fun, and like I said, on me like white on rice. So, the opportunity presented itself, and I took you home. Little did I know, this meant we were now ‘together.’

Listen, I was then & still am now…all about building a potential relationship. I’ve never been the casual hookup guy, so trust me when I tell you I had no intention of hooking up with you that night, dropping you off the next morning, and then never talking to you again. I had every intention to maybe grabbing dinner that weekend, a few phone calls during the week, and seeing what happened. However, when driving you back to our mutual friend’s house the next morning, a certain song came on and we both loved it…to which you exclaimed (with not a hint of sarcasm), “THIS CAN BE OUR SONG!” You are lucky I didn’t drive off the road.

I should’ve been a man about it and put the kibosh on things right then and there…instead I was a different kind of man about it and told you that it was a great idea for you to come up the next weekend. I think the low-cut shirt you were wearing, in addition to your rather ample rack made it incredibly difficult for me to put a stop to it. Plus, its not like hot blondes are throwing themselves at me on a regular basis.

Anyway, do you remember going crazy on me at the bar the next week? When you said I wasn’t paying enough attention to you, and that I was still in love with Kara. I sure as shit do, and I was less than impressed. Then when we were trying to discuss the matter in a calm state, which I realize now is impossible with you, you told some stranger at the bar that I was “a ritard for not being interested in you.” She agreed and berated me. Thanks for that, Jo.

Of course when we got back to the house we were all crashing at that night you tried to make up for it by calling yourself “my girl” in front of everyone, and I’ll be honest…that didn’t help matters. We went to bed, and yada yada yada (we were drunk, did you expect me to not make out with you just because I was annoyed with you?), woke up and you claimed you couldn’t remember anything from the night before. And luckily, you had to rush back home for one reason or another.

Well, sometime between then and when you called me a few nights later, someone informed you about your behavior and you apologized. And while I accepted, I also told you it was probably a good idea for us to “cool off.” Then you swore at me, and I knew I made the right call…despite your “ample rack.”

Not to mention you’ve now tainted Bloc Party for me.

“Your Man”

ps – I am glad to hear you have settled down with a guy who can put up with you, because I don’t think you are a good person. I know it was all my fault anyway…I am extremely difficult to resist (HEAVY on the sarcasm).

*Wedding Crashers

14
Feb
11

Dear St. Valentine,

I bet, given the typical nature of this blog, you are expecting a somewhat harsh, overly sarcastic letter about how much you suck and how much I loathe you. Well, great foresight St. V, you are correct. Nah, just kidding.

While I might be a tad bitter that I’m having Valentines Day dinner with my parents tonight and thus probably ruining a truly romantic evening for the two of them that would no doubt end with a totally wild session of…Masterpiece Theatre & a glass of brandy; and I’m clearly extremely bitter that I’m still single, at the end of the day I still kind of appreciate all the love on this day. Exhibit A – the lovely Valentines Day tweet I received from the hottest, and most talented writer in NYC. I mean, I’m not going to receive something like this, “Happy Valentines Day Tweetheart!” in real life. She even called my a cyber version of, ‘sweetheart.’ I’ve got a deep red blush going just writing about it.

I would like to question your placement of the holiday though, Mr. Valentine. Having been in an actual relationship in the past over V-Day, it puts tons of pressure on us guys to come up with yet another awe-inspiring gift so closely on the heels of the Christmas/Hanukah holiday time. We barely have time to catch our collective breaths before we start getting hints about a new piece of jewelry, or color of roses, or overpriced dinner reservation we have to make. But I guess that’s neither here nor there, since it won’t be changed. I just think guys would be a bit more apt to fully delve into the passion that females display for Valentines Day if we had a bit more time to rest after Christmas.

Seriously though, I think all singles focus a bit too much on the negative today. Big effing deal, we aren’t going to get laid tonight (at least, not by someone who we actually know, or like, or will know their name tomorrow morning), but 99% of us singles are still loved by a number of people. Sure, maybe it’s only by your friends, or relatives…but at least someone appreciates you. As the oft-referred to Eddie Vedder sings,

“Oh I’m a lucky man,to count on both hands, the ones I love.”

Would I like this day more if I was taking an intelligent (possibly glasses wearing), witty, caring, sexy female out for a candlelit dinner tonight who afterwords was going to strip down into some mind-blowingly hot new lingerie she purchased for me? Yes, yes I would. But, and not for a lack of trying, that isn’t going to happen. I accept that…and I accept even more the love that is a part of my life.

Now, if we could just do something about those effing Kay Jewelers commercials…

Sincerely,

HLJ (actual initials…just jumbled).




Letters sent…

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