It's No Shrimping But...

The homos don't have it any easier. TGR was browsing a gay online dating site and had a very "sweet" conversation and sent me an email about it:

Here's a recent exchange I just received on a certain boy-meetin' website. Goes to show that you should never be cordial and respond if the first message has something the tiniest bit suspicious in it. Oh brother.

awesomehunk: Hey Scott here blonde blue 190 6ft. You lookincredible! Go to Chicago a lot. Looking for fun guy with a great sense of humor. Up for a whipped cream pie fight?

TGR: Hi Scott. Thanks. ;) Where do you live now? Pie fight? How's your week starting out?

awesomehunk: Hey I go Chicago a lot. Milwaukee here. Good how's your week. Would ya get whipped cream pied for me?

Well, he knew "a lot" was two words which is more than I can say for a lot of assholes I've gone out with. And at least the gays have a 6'0, 190lb dude that is wanting to cream pie them. Straight girls get 5'4 (means they are actually 5'2), 210lb (means they are nearing 250) dudes emailing us. But what we both have in common? The guy calls himself "awesomehunk." What fucking dickbucket calls himself awesomehunk? And even AwesomeHunk would be slightly better. Take the fucking time to capitalize- it shows you take the time to give good head! No? Is this my art history analysis training going overboard?

Then again, maybe it's slightly hypocritical of me since my username is "GoldenPussy." To be fair, it's not like I went overboard and called myself "PlatinumPussy" even though I preferred the alliteration. I'm too humble for platinum so I'm merely golden.

Greeting Cards

A coworker of mine told me that I should make sarcastic greeting cards. I told Matt this and he made these beautiful mock ups with my words.

For those of you who work for raging cuntbags:

And for those of you who got sent a $600 prepaid debit card with his name on it that is actually only usable at Au Bon Pain or have had the misfortune of dating a jackhole who wears Tommy Bahama shirts and has a ridonculously aristocratic name (heart your face, LC!), there is this card:

Would you buy these cards? They are timeless and seasonless. Hmmm, a new business proposal! Maybe I need to copyright this shit!

Beaver

My coworker, Andrea, had an Evite she forwarded to me.  The link opens up in her account because unless you forward it properly via Evite, you log into their personal account which means  you can change their response (never ever ever ever EVER forward an Evite link to Sawyer).  She originally had that she was coming and her comment said something lame like, “I’ll bring cheese and blah blah blah.”  I changed it.  See below:

The best part is that at the party, one of her friends was like, "Oh, I'm so glad you could make it!  Wait, are domestic beavers allowed to be kept as pets in Chicago?"

Hot Pigeon

Scandinavian Homo:  That is one good looking pigeon!
Me:  You know you are really hard up for a pounding when you are checking out pigeons.
SH:  No but seriously, he's very good looking.
Me:  Get a fucking boyfriend.

Hooooooooooot Dog!

From: Short Irritated Jew
Date: Wed, Mar 24, 2010 at 6:39 PM
Subject: it happened again
To: The Asian Sensation

Guess who got their ass poked by an ethnic erection again? I DID.
Yeah.
JOY.

Going through that alone was terrible.
He was old and possibly drunk/high and homeless to make it even better.

***************************************

A few months ago, Short Irritated Jew (SIJ) and I were getting on the train for work.  Per usual, the CTA was out to fuck us so we were crammed into the brown line like Korean mothers in a St. John outlet store.  Right before the doors shut, a short, dirty, Hispanic man shoved in behind me.  I have nothing against short, dirty, Hispanic men as I hope to marry one one day; that is just the most accurate way to describe him.

He was behind me and I half looked around just because he was unnecessarily crammed up into my back.  The train was too packed for me to take a full look around but I did see his hand gripping the rail and I noticed his thumb was filthy, flat and triangular shaped- like it had gotten run over.  This man was just all kinds of sexy.

We rode along for a bit and then a song came to mind.  Next's "Too Close."  Step back your standing kind of close, I feel a little poke coming through...on you.  This dirty motherfucker's ranging hard on was hot dogging my ass.  Unless this is Berlin (the club, not the country), this shit is inapproprate behavior for 7:40am and he have not even bought me a fucking drink yet!

I would like to say that I turned around and decked him but you know, Lifetime movies are far more true to life than one realizes.  I would totally be the girl crying in the shower, holding herself, after getting raped.  After realizing that it was most certainly not his morning banana in his pocket, I just stood there, paralyzed for a few seconds.  Actually, my first instinct was to perch my ass out a little but then I realized I  was no longer on a high school camping trip, pretending to be passed out next to the hot senior who's slutty girlfriend didn't come along because her raging eat disorder kept her from any event that involved s'mores and twizzlers.  The bitch about anorexia is that  on one hand, it helps you get a boyfriend because you are so hot and thin but on the other hand, you lose them to whores that eat because they have more of an ass to perch out, you know?

So anyhow, I shoved my huge bag behind me to create some space between my ass and his hard, dirty cock.  It's amazing how in the throws of passion, an erection seems to last but a nanosecond but from the Armitage stop to the Chicago stop, it's the boner that just won't quit.  He must have noticed that I was not having any of it because he moved onto his new victim, SIJ.  He shifted over a bit and although she is my friend, fuck it, better it be her ass than mine.  I was wearing a silk dress and she was wearing jeans.  We all know what a bitch cum is to get off silk!  Honestly, I felt so guilty and dirty that I couldn't even look at her.

SIJ:  Um, when we get off, I have to tell you something...
Me:  Yeah, I think I already know what it is.
SIJ:  What do I do?
Me:  Just clench your ass and hope for the best.

At Merchandise Mart, about half our train got off (hopefully, the dirty motherfucker didn't) and SIJ and I scrambled to get as far away from him as possible.

Me:  Was that dude's boner digging into your ass?
SIJ:  No, I'm so much shorter than you it was digging into my side and practically locking me into place in the corner.

You know, writing this kind of depresses me.  It's been such a tragically long time since my ass has been hot dogged.  :(

A few weeks later, I was on the brown line to work again and I saw a filthy, flat triangular thumb gripping the rail.  I stuck my ass out a little...just in case.

What else would I name my wireless connection?

Trannylicious!

I like to dress up when I go out. Monday through Friday, I dress like a conservative librarian at work and on the weekends, I like to wear a cunt scraping dress, heavy eyeliner and heels so high I have to genuflect a bit so I don't actually touch Jesus in heaven.

One evening I was going to meet my friend Dave for dinner. We were going to a restaurant in Wicker Park and because it was a Friday night, i was wearing a tight black miniskirt with fishnets, heels and a black satin jacket...think Balmain chic before that shit was totally overplayed (every straight man just went to espn.com). I thought I looked fuckable but who knew that I was to receive the greatest compliment any straight girl could ever hope to receive?

I was standing at a street corner (I'd tell you which ones but I'm Asian and female, therefore, it's a miracle I knew what hood I was in), waiting for the crosswalk to turn green when a car pulled up.

"Hey girl, hey. Gurl!!! Hey..."

The voice was male...ish. As a female who sometimes dresses like I got done right and put away still wet, I've learned that it's best to not make eye contact so I clutched my YSL satchel closer to my chest and looked straight ahead.

"Honey! Baby girl. Hey. GURL, HEEEEEEEEEEEEEY!"

So I looked.

A womMAN looked at me. She was hanging out the window. She had a full face of makeup- like, that thick MAC base and you know that shit was MAC. Trannies buy cheap ass Forever 21 clothes but bitches don't scrimp on the face paint! She had fake eyelashes, blush, eyeliner to the extreme and a fucking jawline that could cut glass. Her crowning glory was her synthetic blond wig that would surly go up in a cloud of smoke if I lit a cigarette even a continent away from her.

Basically, she was everything I've ever aspired to be.

I was standing with my back toward the car and when I looked around at her, she sort of looked puzzled and then she said, "OH, YOU ARE A REAL GIRL! Oh...Um..."

The light turned green and the car sped off. As it rounded the corner, I heard her yell, "I'm sorry, baby. You're beautifuuuuuuuuuuuulllllllll..."

Sorry? What is there to be sorry about? A tranny mistook me for a tranny! It's as though Naomi Campbell herself told me my walk was fierce. Sure, some women might take this as a put down but I don't. You know you've made it in life when you have in-unit laundry and get mistaken for a tranny by a tranny. I'm still waiting for the in-unit laundry but my other dream has come true!