Girls are dumb, too

We already know that boys are dumb and girls are weird. Old news.

But the total opposite can also be true. Case in point:

I have a very cool (for the most part) female friend. She invited me to a fun party last night.

When I get there, she introduces me to her date. He’s an extremely good-looking black guy. No surprise, he used to be a model. OK, fine.

She pulls me aside to give me the real story. I guess this dude used have it going on—modeling contracts, multiple homes, mad loot, the whole deal. Somehow through the recession or whatever he loses everything. To the point that he’s currently living in a fucking HOSTEL in L.A. Um, OK…

She met him on Match.com. I’m like, really? This dude that’s down & out and living in a hostel is looking for love online? Then she tells me how on their first date he gave her some sob story about his dad dying and all of this shit and how all he really wants is a good woman to settle down with and love him la di da.



Oh, really? Now that you’re not pretty-boy mack daddy player, all of sudden you want some awesome woman to lock you down.

As she’s telling me this story, anger is rising in me like boiling lava. She feels so bad for him, and would love to be there for him, and…

WTF? You don’t even know this fucker. But because he’s pretty, you’re willing to overlook some pretty glaring warning flags waving right in your silly face.

How am I supposed to feel sorry for this idiot? More than anything, I’m appalled at his gall. But that’s the curse of the beautiful (AKA “Pretty Boy Syndrome,” AKA “PBS”), especially dudes. They never have to develop any kind of personality, cuz they’re just sooooo purty to look at that they still get everything they want in life.

The dirty secret of the beautiful people, though? It eventually runs out. Some sooner, some much later, but at some point that crutch catches up with you. And when it does, those pretty-faced fucks are so shit out of luck they don’t know weather to shit or sing Kelly Clarkson.

So my friend insists that yeah, I’m right. She doesn’t even know this moron, really. Swears she's gonna leave him alone. Uh huh. We'll see.

I could go on, but I won’t. Girls and dumb, too.


“Sometimes you gotta sleep alone/Sometimes you gotta cry yourself to sleep/Sometimes you gotta dig a little too deep/Sometimes, you gotta sleep alone…”

Miles of smiles

Greatest Girls Making Out Video Ever - Watch more Funny Videos

Gone fishin'

Not really. But sort of. I'm not really sure. It feels like I'm still trapped in the skin of 2009, clawing desperately to free myself into this new year or whatever the hell. Everything is still kind of hazy. The people on TV are giddy to report that Los Angeles will be assailed with torrential rains next week. Something's happening, y'all. And it's not just the Mercury Retrograde. Which I'm happy to report is dunzo on Friday. Come on and get here already, Friday.

In the meantime (cue Spacehog song). I'm here. I'm going to get doughnuts at the Farmer's Market in the morning. I write. I fucking pump shit out on Twitter like a man on fucking fire. I smoke a lot of pot. And again.

I bought these speakers at Wal-Mart today. No big whoop. But for me, right now, they kind of are. They came with a sub-woofer and everything. $19. And they sound really sweet.



I've been on a crazy classic rock tip lately. For the past couple of days, it was all Stones. Now I'm deep into a David Bowie appreciation party. The "Young Americans" album is soooo underrated. Plastic Soul is the jam.

I am so plastic soul right now.

We have lift-off

The 1st chapter is alive and breathing on its own. Success.

Thanks to Bob’s Coffee & Doughnuts, my college town, TCR, the band Ride, everyone that ever passed through the doors of (REDACTED), L.A. Farmer’s Market, Jay Electronica and most of all, her. Miss J.K. Wherever you are, I’ll never forget you and what you taught me.

COCAINE PARTY ON DISCO MOUNTAIN*

Only for the sexxxy people. Clothing optional, swinging encouraged! Play safe and have fun, kids.

Side Two: Got Some (The Ghostface Killa Make-out Remix feat. Adrienne Bailon's fine ass*)

Karma, baby.

Got a text from an old and dear friend.

The message was short and sweet. It was on at a certain spot in the Silver Lake area of L.A. My presence was requested.

I was already pretty fucked up. Smoked an insane amount of weed today, and was countless fingers into a bottle of Jim Beam.



Then the 2nd txt message arrived. Sex Bomb was in the house. The same Sex Bomb from my amaaaaazing hook-up over 4th of July 2009 weekend. THE Sex Bomb. I couldn’t get ready fast enough.

Hit the spot. Soooo many people. Ones that I know. Run into my last hook-up. The sexy Chinese girl with the stellar manual skills. The one that gave me the whole song and dance about how we should just be friends and forgo “the sweaty sex.” Booooo. But I was nice. Karma, remember?

Chatted it up with some fools. And then there she was. Sex Bomb. Hotter than ever. And ON me. We kissed. Kind of more than appropriate for a public space. OK. Nice.

End up on the dancefloor. She’s all up on me. Her crotch grinding on my rapidly growing cock. I shove my tongue in her mouth. She returns the favor.

We get into heavy conversation. She’s going on about how she always feels like my last option. How I only see her as a plaything. How I’ve never really wanted to hook up with her on the real. Um, WHAT?

This girl is crazy fine. Like so fine that I never even entertained the idea of being able to kick it with her seriously. I mean, this girl has dated famous people you’ve heard of. She is model-hot. And she’s saying this shit to ME? Life is fucking straight insanity.

The rest of the evening was a blur of drunken confessions/confrontations, accusations and admissions. And lots of tongue. No matter where I put my hands on her body, she just smiled and pulled herself even closer to me.

Ended up in her car. At one point I was biting her ass (ha). But in the end, we were just two slightly wasted and oh so pretty people (HA!) making out on Sunset Blvd like lovesick teenagers. And it…was…AWESOME.

OK, now I think I can sleep. Not even going to jerk off. Nah, this I’m gonna savor.

Nuthin new about it

I really have no right to complain. I bring all of this shit on myself. I do.

But still. I mean come on. Is this what I get for watching cinematic tripe like “He’s Just Not That Into You”?

I met a girl recently. I liked her immediately, for myriad reasons. It seemed the feeling was somewhat mutual. The night we met, we hung out and had a really fun time at one hell of a sweet party. Much weed was smoked and booze quaffed. No one was feeling any pain. And then we had our moment.

At some point we happened to glance at each other. Emboldened by various intoxicants, I held her gaze. She didn’t flinch. We stared each other down for a good four seconds before turning away. It was the hottest thing to happen in my life in so fucking long it actually makes me want to cry.

Being on this whole go-for-it kick, I set about trying to make something happen with her. Phone calls, e-mails, fucking Twitter—we communicated constantly. The timing sucked though. The holidays kind of dropped in and shut everything down as her family came to town, la di da. Fine.

Fast forward to New Year’s Eve. Run into her on Twitter. Of course. Soon enough she asked what I was doing for the whole midnight thing. And like that, I was meeting her at a party to celebrate the new year, decade, all that.

Best part: I show up to the party. I’m outside dealing with the drama of getting in. I text her that I was there. She says she’ll come out. And she does. She looks great. She walks up to say hello — to me and this dude standing behind me. Moral: this chick had invited two dudes to be her date at the same party. Awesome, right? Right.

OK. Um. She grabs a friend and the four of us go in the alley and smoke a joint. OK. We go inside, drink, chat, hang out, whatever.

Midnight comes. She gives me a hug and a classic side-cheek kiss. Same for the other dude. OK.

Time comes to leave. Everyone is set to hit next party, which is kind of across town. OK. Being L.A., everyone is in different cars. I drive to the other spot.

When I let her know that I was there, everything goes all wobbly. First her friend wants to drop her off. Then she wants to skip the party and go to this OTHER party, which is all the way back on the side of town I just left. OK.

As I’m driving back, I get another text. She’s just going to call it a night. On New Year’s Eve. At like 1:30AM. OK. Cool.

I’m sure she fucked the other guy.

Story of my life.