Posts tagged submission

You can’t get hard
Things were great…we like all the same things…you speak Spanish…you’re a socialist… I’m half in love with you because of your political ideology, and you’re tall, which is a huge plus. So I work my charm, and finally get you to invite me over. We have a couple drinks, I begin to get a little drunk, and next thing you know, we’re making out. I’m sort of pulling all my best moves and when I ask you if I should get the condom, you say yes. Okay well thanks for wasting my condom, you chode. As you’re trying to squeeze your playdoh (LOL JK playdoh is stiffer) in, I realize that isn’t going to work because my vagina isn’t build to take in globs of skin. I ask if everything is okay, and you say it’s because you’ve been drinking, uh….okay… so you insist on keeping the foreplay going and I play along because I haven’t had sex in over 5 months. All of the sudden, your little soft self decides to slap my butt…several times…umm, okay…. Maybe I would forgive this if you could have actually gotten me off. All this messing around, and your little downstairs friend still doesn’t want to give me the time of day. I’m pissed and want to go to sleep, but for some reason, you still have hope in your broken penis. I wake up the next morning, and as I’m all dressed, you finally are ready. So I decide to give you another chance and waste my last condom. Things work out, and I get my mediocre fuck. As I lay down, I notice a guitar, and ask you what you like to play. You say, Guns ‘n Roses and Nirvana… yeah… I’m going to catch the next bus…
I’m offended that you still haven’t talked to me since, but then I remember that in my sexual frustration towards your malfunctioning dick that I called you a child molester for fucking a girl that is 10 years younger than you. Oops.
-Written by twogirlsonecup

You can’t get hard

Things were great…we like all the same things…you speak Spanish…you’re a socialist… I’m half in love with you because of your political ideology, and you’re tall, which is a huge plus. So I work my charm, and finally get you to invite me over. We have a couple drinks, I begin to get a little drunk, and next thing you know, we’re making out. I’m sort of pulling all my best moves and when I ask you if I should get the condom, you say yes. Okay well thanks for wasting my condom, you chode. As you’re trying to squeeze your playdoh (LOL JK playdoh is stiffer) in, I realize that isn’t going to work because my vagina isn’t build to take in globs of skin. I ask if everything is okay, and you say it’s because you’ve been drinking, uh….okay… so you insist on keeping the foreplay going and I play along because I haven’t had sex in over 5 months. All of the sudden, your little soft self decides to slap my butt…several times…umm, okay…. Maybe I would forgive this if you could have actually gotten me off. All this messing around, and your little downstairs friend still doesn’t want to give me the time of day. I’m pissed and want to go to sleep, but for some reason, you still have hope in your broken penis. I wake up the next morning, and as I’m all dressed, you finally are ready. So I decide to give you another chance and waste my last condom. Things work out, and I get my mediocre fuck. As I lay down, I notice a guitar, and ask you what you like to play. You say, Guns ‘n Roses and Nirvana… yeah… I’m going to catch the next bus…

I’m offended that you still haven’t talked to me since, but then I remember that in my sexual frustration towards your malfunctioning dick that I called you a child molester for fucking a girl that is 10 years younger than you. Oops.

-Written by twogirlsonecup


You Wet The Bed
Ok, you’re seemingly a lot drunker than I am and you stink of cigarettes but yeah sure, I’ll make out with you for a while. Cool, you’re kissing my neck and nibbling my ear, oh wait YOU TONGUE IS IN MY EAR CANAL. MAKE IT STOP. Oh that’s handy, you passed out on the bed, crisis averted.
A few hours later I wake up next to you and my sheets are wet, that’s weird. My glass of water is empty so maybe one of us spilt it, I’ll allow it…wait a minute…the water is from around your crotch. That’s not water, that’s your urine. When I shake you awake to politely let you know that you wet my bed, no, soaked my bed. You shrug and say ‘it happens’. ‘It happens’ was acceptable 20 years ago but I am disgusted and have to sleep on this mattress every night. Wetting the bed is one thing but being so nonchalant about it is is quite another. I’m sorry but get out of bed and out of my life. No, I don’t even want to be friends with a bed wetter.
-Written by electracomplex

You Wet The Bed

Ok, you’re seemingly a lot drunker than I am and you stink of cigarettes but yeah sure, I’ll make out with you for a while. Cool, you’re kissing my neck and nibbling my ear, oh wait YOU TONGUE IS IN MY EAR CANAL. MAKE IT STOP. Oh that’s handy, you passed out on the bed, crisis averted.

A few hours later I wake up next to you and my sheets are wet, that’s weird. My glass of water is empty so maybe one of us spilt it, I’ll allow it…wait a minute…the water is from around your crotch. That’s not water, that’s your urine. When I shake you awake to politely let you know that you wet my bed, no, soaked my bed. You shrug and say ‘it happens’. ‘It happens’ was acceptable 20 years ago but I am disgusted and have to sleep on this mattress every night. Wetting the bed is one thing but being so nonchalant about it is is quite another. I’m sorry but get out of bed and out of my life. No, I don’t even want to be friends with a bed wetter.

-Written by electracomplex


You’re Not Michelle Obama
These last three weeks have been fun. Really, they have! That little sushi place tucked away downtown nobody knows about? Great. Terrific soup menu. And even the Ikea date (wonder where you got that idea) was cute, in a twee-lookit-my-fixed-gear-and-nose-ring kind of way. But I think we should see other people. It’s not you. It’s not me, either. It’s Michelle.
I mean, have you seen the first lady? Those legs! Those arms! That very reasonable childhood obesity policy! What’s not to love? I mean, sure she’s taken now, but just because there’s a goalie who’s the leader of the free world doesn’t mean you can’t score, right? Right?
Ah, fuck it. Want to get sushi again?
-Written by BombsForBreakfast

You’re Not Michelle Obama

These last three weeks have been fun. Really, they have! That little sushi place tucked away downtown nobody knows about? Great. Terrific soup menu. And even the Ikea date (wonder where you got that idea) was cute, in a twee-lookit-my-fixed-gear-and-nose-ring kind of way. But I think we should see other people. It’s not you. It’s not me, either. It’s Michelle.

I mean, have you seen the first lady? Those legs! Those arms! That very reasonable childhood obesity policy! What’s not to love? I mean, sure she’s taken now, but just because there’s a goalie who’s the leader of the free world doesn’t mean you can’t score, right? Right?

Ah, fuck it. Want to get sushi again?

-Written by BombsForBreakfast


FRIENDBREAKER: Your Bird Nest Hair
Oh, wow. New friend! Yes, I thought you would make quite the amazing addition to my slew of friends. You’re funny and sarcastic, almost to a breaking point. I can never really seem to catch a breath around you because of your unfailing humor. You’re also the greatest shopping buddy anyone can have (major points for telling me that shirt DID look good on me to make me feel better, even though it was a particularly nasty shade of green). What’s that? Oh, ew. Somehow a feather got into your hair, let me just take that out for you. Say what? It’s clipped in? Why would a bird’s feather be clipped into -
Oh, it’s a trend? A really fashionable trend? All those cool celebrities are having it done in their hair? All the salons are stocking “feather extensions” in their stores? It looks like you got your secret roll-in-bird-feathers fetish on and forgot to take out the feathers so you wouldn’t get caught. Come again? I don’t understand fashion? I’m no longer cool? Excuse me for not understanding sticking feathers in your hair. I’ll try to pray that you don’t get some weird bird disease. In the meantime, I’ll take my uncool hair and look like a bird didn’t just attack it.
-Written By Taylor

FRIENDBREAKER: Your Bird Nest Hair

Oh, wow. New friend! Yes, I thought you would make quite the amazing addition to my slew of friends. You’re funny and sarcastic, almost to a breaking point. I can never really seem to catch a breath around you because of your unfailing humor. You’re also the greatest shopping buddy anyone can have (major points for telling me that shirt DID look good on me to make me feel better, even though it was a particularly nasty shade of green). What’s that? Oh, ew. Somehow a feather got into your hair, let me just take that out for you. Say what? It’s clipped in? Why would a bird’s feather be clipped into -

Oh, it’s a trend? A really fashionable trend? All those cool celebrities are having it done in their hair? All the salons are stocking “feather extensions” in their stores? It looks like you got your secret roll-in-bird-feathers fetish on and forgot to take out the feathers so you wouldn’t get caught. Come again? I don’t understand fashion? I’m no longer cool? Excuse me for not understanding sticking feathers in your hair. I’ll try to pray that you don’t get some weird bird disease. In the meantime, I’ll take my uncool hair and look like a bird didn’t just attack it.

-Written By Taylor


You Wear Shoes Without Socks
You’re cute, in a disheveled way, an a bit weird.  That’s what I like, so I’ve pined for you from several rows away since the semester started.  
Today, you decided to take off your shoes — you weren’t wearing socks, even though it’s cold, but maybe your feet get hot?  I don’t know, but bare feet in class seems a bit unsanitary.  Then you put your feet on the back of the chair in front of you.  Your fungus-infested feet.  You put them where people put their heads.
I’ll have to find someone else to crush on.
-Written by lastraniera

You Wear Shoes Without Socks

You’re cute, in a disheveled way, an a bit weird.  That’s what I like, so I’ve pined for you from several rows away since the semester started.  

Today, you decided to take off your shoes — you weren’t wearing socks, even though it’s cold, but maybe your feet get hot?  I don’t know, but bare feet in class seems a bit unsanitary.  Then you put your feet on the back of the chair in front of you.  Your fungus-infested feet.  You put them where people put their heads.

I’ll have to find someone else to crush on.

-Written by lastraniera


You Ate All My Cookie-Dough Ice Cream
Well, hi, it’s nice to meet you too, friend-of-a-friend! What? Yeah, this is cookie-dough ice cream I’m ea—oh, what, you want some? Okay, I guess. You’re just going to go get your own spoon? Alright, being sanitary is cool and all. Oh, my God, is that a ladle? Whatever, I don’t judge people based on spoon-size preferences, so it’s fine. Wait, what are you doing? Taking my pint out of my hand? Bold move, bro. Well, I was kind of eating that, but we just met, so I don’t want to be rude. I’ll just pretend to be busy with my phone for a second, and then I’ll take it back—wait, what the fuck? How are you done ALREADY? God damn it, now I have to go buy more. I hope you choke on all the delicious Haagen-Daz you stole, you bastard.
-Written by thewildhearts

You Ate All My Cookie-Dough Ice Cream

Well, hi, it’s nice to meet you too, friend-of-a-friend! What? Yeah, this is cookie-dough ice cream I’m ea—oh, what, you want some? Okay, I guess. You’re just going to go get your own spoon? Alright, being sanitary is cool and all. Oh, my God, is that a ladle? Whatever, I don’t judge people based on spoon-size preferences, so it’s fine. Wait, what are you doing? Taking my pint out of my hand? Bold move, bro. Well, I was kind of eating that, but we just met, so I don’t want to be rude. I’ll just pretend to be busy with my phone for a second, and then I’ll take it back—wait, what the fuck? How are you done ALREADY? God damn it, now I have to go buy more. I hope you choke on all the delicious Haagen-Daz you stole, you bastard.

-Written by thewildhearts


Dealbreaker: You’re Miley Cyrus.
So we went out, it was kinda nice, except for the annoying paparazzi, but you talked about how you were just trying to live a normal life and you hated a lot of the intrusion. That’s cool, I live a normal life. You invited me back to your place, which I thought was kinda nice because you’re rich and your house is mega-fancy. You have a whole lot of cds, and you ask if you mind what you put on. Of course I don’t, this is your house - your rules. You put on one of your own cd’s. Umm. Okay. Bit weird. I’ve never heard any of your songs before though, so I give it a shot. Your first song is angst. You kinda bob your head along as if you’re enjoying it, and I put it down to the fact that you don’t really see it as your own music since you didn’t actually write it. The second song though, I see on the track listing, you co-wrote. You start singing. No. Nonononononono. Miley, I just can’t do this. No, putting on the wig won’t help, I hate her too. You’re pretentious and arrogant. I don’t understand how you acted so nice on our date. You wrote a song about teenagers not being able to be themselves? Okay yeah I had my time when the only songs I could write started with “oh I’m so sad that you left me” but then it passed. Grow up, write a song about something other than love or angst, stop singing along to it, then give me a call.
-Written by Taste of Honey

Dealbreaker: You’re Miley Cyrus.

So we went out, it was kinda nice, except for the annoying paparazzi, but you talked about how you were just trying to live a normal life and you hated a lot of the intrusion. That’s cool, I live a normal life. You invited me back to your place, which I thought was kinda nice because you’re rich and your house is mega-fancy. You have a whole lot of cds, and you ask if you mind what you put on. Of course I don’t, this is your house - your rules. You put on one of your own cd’s. Umm. Okay. Bit weird. I’ve never heard any of your songs before though, so I give it a shot. Your first song is angst. You kinda bob your head along as if you’re enjoying it, and I put it down to the fact that you don’t really see it as your own music since you didn’t actually write it. The second song though, I see on the track listing, you co-wrote. You start singing. No. Nonononononono. Miley, I just can’t do this. No, putting on the wig won’t help, I hate her too. You’re pretentious and arrogant. I don’t understand how you acted so nice on our date. You wrote a song about teenagers not being able to be themselves? Okay yeah I had my time when the only songs I could write started with “oh I’m so sad that you left me” but then it passed. Grow up, write a song about something other than love or angst, stop singing along to it, then give me a call.

-Written by Taste of Honey


You’re a Closet Racist
I understand that you weren’t around for the civil rights movement but I’m pretty sure its time to drop the bullshit. The first time I heard you drop a less abrasive word that begins with the letter N to replace the “N Bomb” was like the last time I saw a trailer for a Nick Cage movie; all I could think was WHAT IS THE FUCKING POINT?!  At least klan members are proud of who they are, you have worse identity issues than people from Jersey after The Situation became a house hold poison. 
I can’t hang with someone who judges people by the color of their skin. I think I’d rather let Charlie Sheen hold a bag of blow I borrowed from the Mexican Cartels or sit through an episode of Glee. You may find this hard to understand but what we have is like slavery and segregation; ITS OVER!
-Written by Andrew

You’re a Closet Racist

I understand that you weren’t around for the civil rights movement but I’m pretty sure its time to drop the bullshit. The first time I heard you drop a less abrasive word that begins with the letter N to replace the “N Bomb” was like the last time I saw a trailer for a Nick Cage movie; all I could think was WHAT IS THE FUCKING POINT?!  At least klan members are proud of who they are, you have worse identity issues than people from Jersey after The Situation became a house hold poison. 

I can’t hang with someone who judges people by the color of their skin. I think I’d rather let Charlie Sheen hold a bag of blow I borrowed from the Mexican Cartels or sit through an episode of Glee. You may find this hard to understand but what we have is like slavery and segregation; ITS OVER!

-Written by Andrew