Wednesday, October 31, 2007

Christian Cuddle Parties Continued


Fredrick Schwartz from one of my faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaavorite reads, Editorials from Hell's Leading Newspaper, with a writing crew that will make you scream and gasp, wrote about christian cuddle parties:

His spin is politically brilliant and off the hook hilar squared. You have got to check this out. Run. Read. Now.

Danny Bonaduce's Creepy Peen


I'm not sure what's more disturbing, the thrusting jacked sack. Or, his dirty orange palms color coordinated to match his freakpubes leading to the creepiest weepeen I've ever seen. And, I'm not even a size queen.


Help me. I can't stop staring at it.


Happy Halloweeeneeeee

The Aquarius Spam from Hell


I'm an Aquarius. I also love a good spin on my sign. You can imagine how pleased I was when a friend forwarded me this nugget:


AQUARIUS - The Sweetheart. Optimistic and honest. Sweet personality. Very independent. Inventive and intelligent. Friendly and loyal. Original and unique. Attractive on the inside and out. Eccentric personality.



I ooed. I ahhed. Lovely. Until I saw this... 11 years of bad luck if you do not forward!


Cunty enough?! Happy fuckin' Halloween to you, too, Snatcherella. Gaaaaaaaaaaaahd.

Monday, October 29, 2007

Christian Cuddle Parties


Sing it with me, oh Bubbsie, I love you so-oh. Oh, bubbsie, wubbsie, thank you so-oh for the big christian show-oh.



Bubbsie sent me a link to Christian Cuddle Parties and this fabulous article about fondling without fucking.



There is so much dish here I can't stand it. Christly cadets desperate to save their blessed virginity, guess what, there's a fondle fest in any city USA so you can get your touch and make-out swirl on. For the price of $30 and a new pair of flannel PJ's, you can participate in a hugging orgy or in a puppy pile. Check out the video.



Andre Traversa wrote an article for the no-fuck-zone called Confessions of a Christian Cuddler. One of the things he drones on about is something he read in Sin Fest Rolling Stone, about this rock group that wears masterbands. Each member wears their lil badge of honor UNTIL the member has jerked his member. His shame is the instant removal of said jizband.



Masturbating and fucking are very healthy. You don't want to test the merchandise before you buy it, that's ya business. At least touch yourself so you know what you like. Slam that hand up your flange. Grip that shaft with a fury (white stuff comes out. It's really cool).



Please, please, please go and check out Christian Cuddle Parties riiiiight now. Capisce?!

Sunday, October 28, 2007

Jewgirl Gets Hate Mail



This is what I woke up to on Saturday Morning:



From: PaganSinner
Sent: Saturday, October 27, 2007 12:19 AM

Subject:



Holy Shit...another fuckin' FAT ASS ACLU LOVING LIBERAL LOSER I WAS REJECTED BY EVERY IVEY LEAGUE KYKE BITCH writing her self-important JEW blog on the internet. What a fuckin' shock... Go blow a nigger and watch holocaust films WISHING you were a tall THIN Anglo-Saxon...


--


I've always wondered why neo-Nazi's don't spell check. If I wanted to send hate-mail, I'd check my spelling and grammar so the hate-ee received a truly articulate taste of my hatefulness.



I'm also curious about why he didn't incorporate other races into his hate-letter. Maybe he's not as Anglo-Saxon as he leads us to believe. Perhaps he's a hybrid of races and that's his dirty little secret.



Pagarooney, is your mother Latin American? Asian? Iranian? You should be so lucky.



Pagester why did you send something so cliche and predictable versus getting more creative? There are a bazillion ways to spin a hate-yarn. I feel like you opted out of going there and chose to exercise restraint. Frankly, I'm disappointed in you.


Next time you take time out of your day to send me a hate letter, try to think outside the Jew hating box. Get creative! Really push those ugly buttons. I know you can do it. I'm sure you can find a republican senator or judge to help you. If you need a referral, let me know.



Oh, one last thing, Pagan, the next time you're sucking a juicy black cock and loving it, I would suggest watching a nice Jewey porn, something vintage Annie Sprinkle. Tell ya what, I'll do the same thing and we can compare notes. Let's check in with each other next week. Sound like a plan? Cool.

Wednesday, October 24, 2007

No, I Haven't Been Consumed by Flames


While I realize my born again zealot readers would just LOOOOOVE to know that I've been consumed by California's mini-Armageddon, I'm here to say that I've still got a pulse.

Sunday, October 21, 2007

Duck and Run for Cover!


Our beloved politits, D-Cup was assaulted. Seriously. By a WOMAN. At a corporate event for having a difference of opinion. It is unbelievable. I am so shocked and so appalled and so disgusted. Wrong.Wrong.Wrong. Run. Read. Now. Please!



D-Cup, ya da classiest dame I know. Ya handled yaself beautifully. God forbid I find myself in a similar circumstance at some point, I can only that I exercise half of your grace.

Friday, October 19, 2007

What in the Menses World?



I think Niagara is missing its Fall. Let's not have a *panic-picnic. I found it at 3AM between my thighs. Too bad it's not a holiday weekend, Taco Grand Rapids could make some serious bank on tourism.

It appears that a few stragglers have made it through without paying admission--fuckers. My mothah fuckin' cock suckin cramps have escalated beyond savage. Each womb gripping runner is laughing riotously at my heating pad and pain pills. I've been tossing and turning like a fish outta water all night. I'm overtired and in pain. Argh...

I am grateful. I'm menstruating and everything is working. Thank God!

*thank you, izzy

Thursday, October 18, 2007

Comments re: Butter My Bread?


If you don't want to scroll down, click to read Butter my Bread?



Some of my favey bloggers don't understand why I butter my bread and don't eat it, so lemme splain.

  1. It's not torture. It's a routine I used to have every morning. I love the ritualistic aspect of it. By going through the motion, I can actually feel the texture of the hot buttery toast melting in my mouth and it gives me pleasure.

  2. I don't watch it consecutively for 30-minutes. I glance at it in passing while I'm getting ready or while I'm checking email or drinking coffee, or shmoozing on the phone. Knowing it's there brings me comfort.

  3. I've had too much change in the past 8 months. I need some semblance of continuity and for some bizarre reason, I find it in toast.

  4. I feel guilty because there are so many starving people in the world and to invest money and time into something that you aren't going to use is frivolous and inconsiderate. I know. It's just toast. Still. The guilt.
  5. It keeps me legal, I stick to my diet.

For all of those reasons, I make toast every morning.

Joe Torre Broke up with the Yankees


I am such a bluejew. Joe Torre has broken up with the Yankees. He's the heart and soul of that team. He's a New York institution. He's got quiet rage that Joe Tore. I love him hard.


I don't have a daddy complex and I've never been attracted to older men except for quiet rage Joe Torre. He's wildly and inappropriately sexy and now he's no longer a Yankee. Sigh....

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

Butter My Bread?


This admission might result in some blogemmies and outright break-up's. I hope it doesn't, but I am ready to live with the consequences of sharing my dirty little secret. Ok. Ready? Set. Go.


One of my guilty pleasures is that every single morning, I take a fresh, homemade slice of sourdough bread and pop it into the toaster. I watch as my sumptuous soft bread turns to a golden crispy beige and then I immediately take it out of the toaster, so it burns my fingers just a teeeeeeeeeeny tinnnnnnny bit. I carefully butter the center and each corner, listening to the crunch and watching the hot bread soak up chilled pats of butter and then.... well. I watch my buttered toast for 30 minutes. Not like consecutively or anything, that's creepy. I watch it intermittently. And then I throw it away.


I'm on a fucking diet. I feel terribly guilty about it, just not enough to like, you know, stop. Not yet anyway. Cut me some slack. I don't just loooooooove this particular sourdough bread and butter, I am wild for it. It's other worldly. I could commit to monogamy with this bread. YEAH. I know.

Monday, October 15, 2007

Shitting Pretty


My apartment manager and I are in the middle of a shit war. Without disclosing the contents of an essay about our shitistory (fear not, you'll be able to read it soon! As if, Schwartzy. Anywho), our shituation has escalated. After taking my toilet's hand in marriage without my consent, he came back to the scene of the crime to (wink-wink) check on who-the-fuck-remembers, so he could chat up a storm and shit himself into a frenzy.



Ever since I denied him that porcelain privilege, I've noticed a faint, yet noticeable stench of anal wretchedness that no ass should legally be able to produce, just outside my bathroom window a few times a week. What should be a grassy area between my building and the building next door is a gassy area thanks to shitfucker.



While sitting in my kitchen this afternoon, I caught him quietly skulking past me and towards my bathroom window. I ripped open the blinds and said, WHATRYA DOIN?! He was so stunned, he said, Oh, oh, oh, nada, nada-nada-pipes-pipes-pipes. How stupid does this yutz think I am?! I said, Listen you, I am onto you and your funky ass. If I jump through this window, will I unearth your private dumping ground? Because if I do, you have no idea what deep shit looks or feels like. I'm about to crack your ass wide open, buster. MOVE IT ALONG.



He sprinted from the scene of the crime. I don't know for certain if he was shitting back at me because I came between him and his lover. I don't want to find out. Alls I can tell ya's is if I smell that funk again, it's on, my friends. It is ON.



It's my own little version of Like Water for Chocolate ... without the sex--Thank God.

Sunday, October 14, 2007

Retard Revolution


Remember that post I wrote about the Special Olympics of Grocery Shopping? I figgered you didn't, so hit the link and catch up. I know, I'm Snatcherella today. Deal. Or flee.


This afternoon my sister and I hit our new grocery store because we banned the SOGS store. The manager was an assholic prick about the mentally challenged. After you tell a manager you see on a daily basis that they're stupid and offensive, better to stick to your guns and not give them your business, right? Right.


I am here to say that there is an explosive retard revolution happening in the retail grocery industry in shlock angeles that I was not aware of. It's about fuckin' time if you ask me. The lines are longer. Bagging is a cooperative endeavor and if you're paying by credit or check card, you're gonna have to swipe twice on a good day, three on a bad day. Doable, honey. Do-a-ble.



Walking into the store today was like going to a sports arena to watch The Norms vs. The Tards in their final game of the series. You can feel the animosity and competitiveness. It's so strange. The Norms are just outright mean and The Tards are fighting back, giving it to them right up their asses. It's surreal, uncomfortable and fantastic all at the same time.



I'm rooting for the short bussers. I hope the retard revolution leaves an indelible imprint in all industries. It's so long overdue. Are you with me?!



Non-sequiturish of the day: Can dogs be retarded? Seriously, can they?

Saturday, October 13, 2007

To Jewgirl From Christian Mortgage Company



Jesus spams me a lot. When you spend that much time schlepping on a cross, I suppose the idea of not schlepping something feels foreign. He's gotta hawk something, so why not mortgage. He's also sent me life and health insurance quotes. He's so busy with himself that Jesus.



In my box today. Not vadge, e-box, he sent me a low interest rate mortgage and vowed not to base his final decision on my religious or sexual orientation. Check out the highlights below.



Subject: Rates as low as 4.625%



You Could Start Your New Year with a Lower Mortgage Payment! Refinance Today! Spend 2007 with more money every month:
  • More money for credit payments
  • More money for car payments
  • More money for school payments
  • More money for life payments! Life Payments? The subtext feels very, for the extortionist, pedophile or embezzler in you.
Ok, this is my favorite part: Christian Family Loans is not affiliated with, or sponsored or endorsed by any religion or faith-based institution. This advertisement is not intended to express or suggest any preference, limitation or discrimination based on religion or other personal traits or status. Our lender matching service is offered to all persons without regard to their religious affiliations or beliefs and the lenders with whom you are matched, if any, are not selected based on any religious criteria. We do not know, nor do we inquire about your religion. Christian Family Loans will not enter into or maintain a relationship with anyone who does not conform to applicable anti-discrimination practices



Jesus needs to step up his game, yo. I wanted the promise of a rose colored fucking glass lie and all I got was this shitty, bring us your liberal, dirty jew, faggelah, lesbian, any faith welcome email! No way, man. Suck my ovaries. Bring it on, J-dawg. Man up. I fucked a "Mathew". Believe me, if anyone can take a lie, it's me.



It's an angry day. Deal. Love. Jew.

Thursday, October 11, 2007

Yup, I'm Weird

This morning while pouring my fresh, hot percolated coffee into my favorite mug, out popped, Good morning you stunning piece of ass you. And then I realized... it is.



Sadly, my fabulous vinty Wedgewood stove peeled and had to be replaced. My slumlords replaced it with the trailoriest of stoves. This little shit belongs in a triple slide, not my Jewliciouskitch.



Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Dieting Woes and Fat Chach


So, I'm on a diet. I'm 90% off dairy. No pasta. No bread. It sucks fat mannequin ass. I'm so happy, though because I was finally able to lose 10 pounds. I wasn't in a position to lose weight for too long and not because I couldn't shut my pie hole, for other reasons.



My metabolism just might be heading back to normalville and God willing the weight will keep falling off, like dead-leaves, like sands through the hourglass... these are the days of our lives. Wait, that's a soap opera, right?




Anyhooch, I found some fuck off hilar squared URLs that I had to share because I'm a freak. If I can't stuff my face with fat, I need to remind myself why I'm being a good diet soldier. I'm not dining on dick at the minute, so I must entertain myself in other ways. Plus size caskets, more chunky but funky caskets and still more. Are you plotzing? Yeah, me too. Moving right along. Fat Cities- no joke fat heaven. Plus Size Yellow Pages- why it's just faterific squared! Ample Stuff- fat chach. Thank God, I am not in need of a hand extender to wipe my ass. Want a fatvacay? Hit Fat Cruises and set sail with other portly petals.



While fatfrolicking myself into a frenzy, I hit the Quacker Factory. This broad creates tent attire for the MOB crowd with murals. Nothing like a 5x5 country, complete with cities and families touring in RVs around your entire body to make a dame feel thin. She also does Quacker cruises. Her motto is, If you can’t change it, decorate it.



What I didn't notice was a Fatarella or a Fat Bush or Fatlympics. This surprised me. Make no mistake, I will keep searching as zealously as I do for fundie and LeePee dish.

Non sequitur of the day, Ben Harper is a hersheyheeb. His mothah is a Russian Jew broad. How hot is that!

Saturday, October 06, 2007

Smack Dab on Censorship


Check out Diva Smack's blog. I adore this broad. She's generous, kind, smart, caring and always there when you need her, always. Welcome her back. This incredible dame has been wrongfully accused and harassed by a group of Internet censorship loving nutbags. Check out this post and this one. Run. Read. Now.

Anne Culter Qute


Cunt-scream-a-bitch's latest quote is shocking, appalling and disgusting. Of course I had to blog it.



"If we took away women’s right to vote, we’d never have to worry about another Democrat president. It’s kind of a pipe dream, it’s a personal fantasy of mine, but I don’t think it’s going to happen. And it is a good way of making the point that women are voting so stupidly, at least single women. It also makes the point, it is kind of embarrassing, the Democratic Party ought to be hanging its head in shame, that it has so much difficulty getting men to vote for it. I mean, you do see it’s the party of women and ‘We’ll pay for health care and tuition and day care — and here, what else can we give you, soccer moms?’"



Her stupidity is offensive. PS: Sad as this is to admit, she has a VAGINA.

Thursday, October 04, 2007

NY Craigslist Personal Ad and Response


This is too hilar not to pass along. The guy's response is fabulous. I love him so hard, my vulva lips are twitching. He's got almost as much moxie as I do. Could his balls be as big as my ovaries? Nahhhhh. As for the broad... what is she doing setting women back a hundred years?! Quit with the hedge funds and start creating vadgefunds all by yourself! You can do it, vagareena. Take a hit for the team and woman up.



25-year-old shameless diva seeks money-money-money



What am I doing wrong? Okay, I'm tired of beating around the bush. I'm a beautiful (spectacularly beautiful) 25 year old girl. I'm articulate and classy. I'm not from New York. I'm looking to get married to a guy who makes at least half a million a year. I know how that sounds, but keep in mind that a million a year is middle class in New York City, so I don't think I'm overreaching at all.



Are there any guys who make 500K or more on this board? Any wives? Could you send me some tips? I dated a business man who makes average around 200 - 250. But that's where I seem to hit a roadblock. 250,000 won't get me to central park west. I know a woman in my yoga class who was married to an investment banker and lives in Tribeca, and she's not as pretty as I am, nor is she a great genius. So what is she doing right? How do I get to her level?



Here are my questions specifically:-


  • Where do you single rich men hang out? Give me specifics- bars, restaurants, gyms -
  • What are you looking for in a mate? Be honest guys, you won't hurt my feelings-
  • Is there an age range I should be targeting (I'm 25)? -
  • Why are some of the women living lavish lifestyles on the upper east side so plain? I've seen really 'plain jane' boring types who have nothing to offer married to incredibly wealthy guys. I've seen drop dead gorgeous girls in singles bars in the east village. What's the story there?-
  • Jobs I should look out for? Everyone knows - lawyer, investment banker, doctor. How much do those guys really make? And where do they hang out? Where do the hedge fund guys hang out?-
  • How you decide marriage vs. just a girlfriend? I am looking for MARRIAGE ONLY
Please hold your insults - I'm putting myself out there in an honest way. Most beautiful women are superficial; at least I'm being up front about it. I wouldn't be searching for these kind of guys if I wasn't able to match them - in looks, culture, sophistication, and keeping a nice home and hearth.



Suit Daddy of Doom's Answer



Dear Pers:



I read your posting with great interest and have thought meaningfully about your dilemma. I offer the following analysis of your predicament.



Firstly, I'm not wasting your time, I qualify as a guy who fits your bill; that is I make more than $500K per year. That said here's how I see it. Your offer, from the prospective of a guy like me, is plain and simple a crappy business deal.




Here's why. Cutting through all the B.S., what you suggest is a simple trade: you bring your looks to the party and I bring my money. Fine, simple. But here's the rub, your looks will fade and my money will likely continue into perpetuity...in fact, it is very likely that my income increases but it is an absolute certainty that you won't be getting any more beautiful!



So, in economic terms you are a depreciating asset and I am an earning asset. Not only are you a depreciating asset, your depreciation accelerates!



Let me explain, you're 25 now and will likely stay pretty hot for the next 5 years, but less so each year. Then the fade begins in earnest. By 35 stick a fork in you!



So in Wall Street terms, we would call you a trading position, not a buy and hold...hence the rub...marriage. It doesn't make good business sense to "buy you" (which is what you're asking) so I'd rather lease. In case you think I'm being cruel, I would say the following. If my money were to go away, so would you, so when your beauty fades I need an out. It's as simple as that.



So a deal that makes sense is dating, not marriage. Separately, I was taught early in my career about efficient markets. So, I wonder why a girl as "articulate, classy and spectacularly beautiful" as you has been unable to find your sugar daddy. I find it hard to believe that if you are as gorgeous as you say you are that the $500K hasn't found you, if not only for a tryout.



By the way, you could always find a way to make your own money and then we wouldn't need to have this difficult conversation. With all that said, I must say you're going about it the right way. Classic "pump and dump."



I hope this is helpful, and if you want to enter into some sort of lease, let me know.

Wednesday, October 03, 2007

Chris Crocker


The goddess that is diva Chris COCKer has updated her MySpace page. She's even included a sassy top model photo gallery. I love this queen. Did you know she's a preacher?! Can you be a Catholic preacher? If not, she must convert right now. Have you seen the robes? Divine! She would look gorgeous in this one, it's very dramatic. With an open toe gold heal and the right up-do, this one screams come fuck me. Final robe, I promise. It's just so perfect for a parade, right?!

Putting the Fun in dysfunctional


The meshpucha sped right past The Thornbirds remake today. How did we do it? Baggage. God forbid one piece of luggage be thrown out JUST TO BALANCE the load a bit. Oh, no, no, no. That would be responsible and make others happy. Who cares. They're mine and I love them.



My sister is on her way ovah. Can't wait.



We had a fabulous social call. I like this, real time blogging. Ok, I'm done now. I'm exhausted and need to make myself horizontal. I am listening to Nessun Dorma--that helps a lot.



Do not forget to click over to Boobiethon and submit the divas and/or donate cash.



Photo Credit: OuttaContext.

Monday, October 01, 2007

Hmm...


Definitely Thornbirds...

Cormac's 6S Kicks Ass


Cormac Brown has written a beatufiul 6S. Run Read. Now: 24fps

Fuckin Tits


Flaunt your beautiful boobies for Boobiethon this year and/or make a donation. Ya like em'? You want keep em'? Save em'.

It's been a surreal few days. I think my family is fast becoming a poorly made, goyisha revision of The Thornbirds. I just need a gay priest to fall in love with. Know any?

I've also been fielding questions about the whereabouts of The Kid. I'm trying to handle it graciously. My responses are contingent upon my mood. It's just too overwhelming sometimes to engage in deathversations. There are two questions that bug the shit out of me. How did he die? I am guilty of asking that one, too. The second one I wouldn't dream of asking, How old was he? As if a certain age justifies the death. I know. I know. I know, everyone deals with death their own way. Sing that song and dance somewhere else, sister.

By Sunday, I was on dead dog overload, so when I was asked how The Kid was doing, I said, he's fine. The guy responded and said, I'm glad cause I really like him. My guilt has guilt. I'm gonna fly by the coffee shop sometime this week and tell him my son peeled.

I'm ovulating. Oh, that reminds me, I need to call my slumlord because strange, cummy looking water is dripping from my faucets. I have oyska bottles of Whole Foods water so I don't get knocked up or diseased. What can I tell you-- I'm so boring right now.

 

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