Wednesday, April 28, 2010

re·cy·cle (r-skl) tr.v. re·cy·cled, re·cy·cling, re·cy·cles

1. To put or pass through a cycle again, as for further treatment.
2. To start a different cycle in.
3. a. To extract useful materials from (garbage or waste).
b. To extract and reuse (useful substances found in waste).
4. a. To use again, especially to reprocess: recycle aluminum cans; recycle old jokes.
b. To recondition and adapt to a new use or function: recycling old warehouses as condominiums.
re·cycla·ble adj. & n.
re·cycler n.

Recycling also has many meanings in the coital world.

The "recycling bin" is a collection of men to which one could apply each definition, especially that of extracting and reusing (useful substances found in waste).

It is very important that every woman, especially those single prowlers, have a recycling bin of grade A man meat. Preferably one in each city in which one might reside or visit on occasion. Keep a mental black book of whoever might be available, and voila! You get laid AND you play tourist in New York City!

It's gotta be a sure deal. Automatic. No questions asked. That's right, when I visit NYC, sometimes I wake up on Wall Street.

Well, in an apartment, on Wall Street. But that story is for another post.

Whether it be high school ween, college cock, or just some random guy you met one time and always have him crawling back for more, get yourself a recycling bin, and fill it with AT LEAST 5 guys. Let's be honest ladies, we can't always have those numbers shooting up. It's not cool to sleep around when you have a vagina, according to the Martian side of the argument.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Revenge Ideas

In case you were wondering what the fuck to do with that extra bit of clothing your ex left behind (especially if he is persistently asking for it), here's my plan:

Place it kindly on his doorstep, in a shopping bag, with these large words written in permanent marker:

Dear _____,

You're an asshole.

xoxo, ______.

PS: Your sweater is gay.

Yes, I have carried this out. As of today, the count is at 1. But I plan on recycling this idea. It's brilliant.

Saturday, April 17, 2010

Corn Mazes are for Giving Blowjobs

I'm a bad, bad blogger. No, seriously, I will be more diligent. Especially as life starts to calm down in a few weeks (Think: graduation).

I don't know if mazes made out of a cornfield hold a spot on your bucket list, but they sure as hell reside on mine. Any sort of gigantic maze sounds amazing, especially if David Bowie is waiting for me at the end. I don't recall why the thought crossed my mind, but I decided to google nearby mazes and found one at a farm about an hour away from my hometown. I convinced (although, convincing would imply there was some sort of hesitation) my boyfriend at the time to go, and then his parents jumped in on the idea. Free ride and admission! That's what parents are there for.

We got to the farm and took this massive tractor/wagon down to the not so massive maze, into and out of which small children were running. Disappointment was ever-present, but we held our adult heads high and marched into the "depths" of the cornfield maze. And by cornfield maze, I mean maybe 3 to 4 short paths through the field with a slight spattering of dead-ends. Joe and I separated from his parents in an attempt to revert back to a childlike state, since the only way to enjoy the charlatan that dared to call itself a maze was to pretend we were the age of 5 or 6. Although, 5 and 6 year olds don't tend to become horny when with those of the opposite sex and sneak into the unmazed portion of the cornfield in order to perform fellatio. Sometimes, if you're lucky, you can catch them. Those crazy kids.

Yes, yes. I gave head in a cornfield maze. Don't worry, it wasn't in the middle of the main drag with screaming children and stressed parents encircling us. We snuck into the thick of the corn stalks and I went to town. Nothing like the sound of your future parenthood screeching in your ears while you're getting your dick sucked. I mean, that must be such a turn on. Damn, this is what having kids is like? Oh, yeah girl, deepthroat. Umm, what?? No wonder we broke up. I should've been pissed he wasn't flaccid. That's incredibly disturbing. Almost as disturbing as the thought that a small child could've seen the very base of your shaft while you skullfucked me. F-ing creep.

Okay, okay. It was my idea. But still. He's the one that actually found pleasure amidst the chaos of the pussy ass cornfield maze. Just saying, maybe he should've said that he felt uncomfortable. I guess it was the whole "Oooh we're doing something dirty and could get caught quite easily," that propelled the moment. Looking back, I realized I could now be paying for some kid's lifelong therapy sessions just because Joe wanted a beej and couldn't wait a few hours (Probably cause he knew I wouldn't fucking feel like it in a few hours. Gotta grab at the opportunity while its hot.)

Life lesson: think before you s?