Zesty as Fuck
Is it still relevant to do a New Years post even though we are already seven days in?
The answer is probably not, but I’m going to anyways. A random picture of a cute kitten and a vagina joke would probably be more appropriate, seeing as I don’t really give a shit about New Years, but I still feel compelled to share my thoughts and stuff on the matter anyways.
It is true. I don’t really care about New Years.
I’ve always celebrated it because I’m supposed to, but deep down I’ve never really understood the point. We’re just going to have to throw out our used calenders and buy a new one, why shout and get face to pavement drunk over it? Can’t we just pat each other on the back in the calender aisle and say “hooray” or something? Actually, no, fuck that. I don’t like it when strangers touch me. I also don’t like it when people say “hooray” and mean it. It’s all fine and well to show excitement over something, but do pick a different word. Maybe, “awesome!” or “this is terrific!”. Hooray just sounds dumb.
Did I make resolutions this year? I sure did. Only I didn’t make them on 01/01/____. I make resolutions on 12/12____, because that’s my birthday and the one time of the year that it feels right to do so, but even more so during times when I realize that I’m doing some horrible thing over and over and it’s affecting my life in a negative fashion. Those moments can happen at any time during the year.
This year, I’ve resolved to make 29 my bitch.
Why 29? Because that’s how old I turned. And it’s the final year of my twenties. Rumor has it that shortly after you turn thirty you start collecting cats while your boobs start making friends with your belly button, and all the while your ovum begin to rot and fall out of your uterus. Then you turn into this decrepit shuffling wrinkle-crotch who doesn’t bathe or have fun anymore, and you occasionally shit your pants. Or maybe all that happens when you’re sixty. Regardless, thirty is half way to sixty*, and I’m ONE YEAR AWAY FROM TURNING THIRTY, so I’m starting to get a little nervous about how I spend my time these days. There are a few things I’d like to accomplish before all of this happens. There’s the usual shit, like “stop snatcheling” and “shit or get off the career pot” and
become omnipotent learn a new skill, but overall, I wish to take steps to becoming a happier person who sucks a little less at life. Those are some good goals to have, I reckon.
*I am mostly kidding. I’ve known some very zesty sixty year old people that are active and healthy and don’t have issues with shitting their pants. I’ve also met some that hate cats.
I have to say, 28 was sort of a crappy year. It had it’s perks, like moving in with Caveman, and giving birth to this blog, but over all? I give it a 2.73 out of 10. I take full responsibility for such a low score and know what I need to do to make 29 better, but I won’t bore you with the details. Instead, I’ll change the subject completely and give you wrap up of “weird shit people googled that lead them to my blog” because I haven’t done that in a while and there’s some pretty impressive ones worth sharing.
Note: a lot of these would likely make your boss frown at you if they were reading over your shoulder or if they keep tabs on what you do on the Internets when you should be working or meeting deadlines or whatever. Also, some of these contain thoughts and words that are MORE CRUDER than what you’ll normally find on here. Suffice to say, these are NSFA (not safe for anything).
“porn cheaper than dating”
I suppose it is. But dating is cheaper than therapy you’ll need when the soul-sucking loneliness becomes too much to bear. Unless you wind up getting married.
Divorce Weddings are very expensive. So I’m told.
“things I can put in my pussy”
Let’s see, your car keys, debit card, a swiss army knife, some chapstick, a pen or two, some change for the pay phone in case you get stuck somewhere…
TOTALLY KIDDING… payphones aren’t a thing anymore. Everyone knows that.
lamp chair box thing mug skull book pencil foot coin candle artery nut candy rooster
“can I call my cat Megatron”
Fuck no, you can’t. Megatron was my cat, and he still has dibs even though he’s dead SO DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT, ASSHOLE.
Feel free to use Optimus Prime or GooGooKittyPurrFace though. Those are swell.
“I’m looking for the best granny porn”
Seriously? Who the fuck does that? Why would you actually type “I’m looking for” in front whatever it is you want to find on the internet? It’s a search engine. IT ALREADY KNOWS YOU’RE LOOKING FOR SOMETHING.
“horse cock flare masturbating”
…. yeah, I got nothin’.
“snickerdoodle cookie sex”
Gee, way to stick your dick in a tasty cookie treat, pal. Whatever happened to just looking for “free porn”? Why does everything have to be so damn weird all the time?
“am I pregnant I smell like stale cum”
Yes. You’re going to have stale little nose babies.
“should I fuck my cousin”
“is 30yr old chloroform any good”
So what, because it’s thirty it’s probably crap? Just because it’s not in it’s early twenties any more doesn’t mean it’s useless. Jerk.
“I have a huge fetish for sucking on the callous on the side of womens big toes”
Well, I suppose so long you don’t work in podiatry or at a nail salon, then you should be okay. You may want to consider therapy or staying away from people just in case.
“when all else fails just fuck them in the dick”
I don’t know what’s weirder, this sentence or that my first reaction was “well, at least they didn’t put ‘fuck them in the eye’ because that would be awful”.
“flame throwing vagina”
You may want to get that checked out. I’m sure there’s a cream or something for that. At the very least, consult an exorcist.