Bloggerstock: Potential Postcards

It's time for Bloggerstock again! This time I am hosting the fabtanbulous Amanda Abella, who is a freelance writer; She actually got shit published by associated content, color me green with envy (but please apple green, olive green just makes my skin look sickly).

If you are wondering where my post is, I'm being hosted by the brilliant Kara over at Chatter. Anyways on with the show:

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I am proud to say that this month I am officially popping my Bloggerstock cherry. I’ve been blogging on and off since middle school but just recently decided to take it seriously as a freelance writer. Much to my delight I stumbled upon the epic awesomeness that is Bloggerstock. So without further ado, here goes my first attempt.

I know that usually I’m a general humorist, but I had to go kind of serious with this one.

If you could write ONE postcard to any person (living or dead), who would you write to, what would you say, and where would the postcard be from?"

If I could write to any one person it would be my great uncle. I actually never met him because he was taken as a political prisoner in Cuba for speaking out against the abuses of the government. My family also has no idea what ever happened to him. I am told that he was a journalist and I think maybe that’s where I get my passion for writing.

I would ask him what Cuba was like since I’ve never seen it. I would also ask him how he mustered up the courage to fight for his freedom and speak out against a government that would imprison him. I would ask him what being a political prisoner was like. I would ask him what he wants the world to know about the political situation in Cuba. And finally, I would ask him if he ever regretted what he did, although I am pretty sure I can guess the answer.

My postcard would be sent from Ireland mostly because I was just in Dublin not too long ago and fell in love. Unfortunately, I wouldn’t have expected my uncle to ever get the postcard. And if he did by chance manage to get it I’m sure he would not have been allowed to write back.

A big thank you to Coyote Rose for allowing me to guest post on her blog (which by the way is hilarious)! If you would like to check out the musings of a freelance writer with an affinity for gin and cigarettes than feel free to visit my website. With that being said, until next time Bloggerstock!

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Fuck Yeah Friday!

So yeah, I've like posted 8 gabillion times this week, but whatever. Everyone wants to read my inane ramblings like all the time right? Thatswhatithoughtbitches.

Anyways, I'm introducing a new award. It's call the Fuck Yeah Friday Award, and i will be giving it out every friday to my favorite blog post from the week.

This weeks actually goes to Sara Swears A Lot for a guest post entitled Shit on Your Dick on From the Head of Danaconda. Seriously, this is some funny shit. If you haven't read it already, you need to go do it now! Because everyone needs a little shit on their dick once and awhile

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I'd Rather Be a Sex Kitten Than a Supermodel

Meow.

From Urbandictionary. com

Sex Kitten- Noun 1. Usually a young, sweet, cute looking girl, but who ooze's sex appeal and who is most probably a lot less innocent than they look. They are usually very flirty and playful. Hard to resist!

So i was talking to a male friend of mine about girls and what is attractive to men. I'm not a skinny teeny-tiny size two. I have never been that tiny. I'm pretty sure i was born in a pair of size 10 jeans. Women, especially American women, put a big emphasis on weight. Society tells us we should be Kate-Moss-anorexic (and really who wants to do that much cocaine- I mean its going to ruin your nose). But when i was talking to my friend last night he stated that he found me (size 8 and all) much more attractive than one of my size two friends.

Me: size 12

And it got me thinking, I would much rather be a sex kitten than a supermodel. I mean really Marylin Monroe or Kate Moss? I'm going with Marylin Monroe and i think most men would rather bang Marylin Monroe too.I would much much rather by a Playboy Playmate than on the cover of French Vogue. Seriously, it worked for Pamela Anderson right? Except i don't want all of her douchebag ex-husbands (Tommy Lee, Kid Rock? Ewww I need a tetanus shot just thinking about them.) I'd rather be a Jenny McCarthy than a Pam Anderson anyways.

But ultimately its about being comfortable in your own skin. I've been a size 14 and a size 8 and I love my body as both. Yes, I'm curvy but that means i have tits, hips, and an ass albeit a very tiny ass, which is more than i can say for most super-skinny girls. Listen i have nothing against super-skinny-bitches. One of my dearest friends, Songbird, is itty-bitty. You know what she complains about? Not having boobs; she actually wishes she looked more like me. LUDICROUS!

Me: Size 8

The point I'm getting at is: you should love your body the way it is. Sure i could stand to lose another 10 pounds, but you know what I'm pretty happy with the way i look. I'm pretty sure the guys i sleep with are happy with the way i look too (I mean seriously, my boobs are bouncy). You can find someone to love you and fuck you regardless of what size you are. We should embrace our curves; its what makes women different from men.


Also does anyone know if playboy is hiring? I mean I'm soooo not surgically enhanced enough to get the job, but heck if i wouldn't try. But I'm not sleeping with Hef. Old man balls make me gag.

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Whats It Going To Take!

So at the beginning of May, I graduated with my Masters in European History. It is now almost August and i still do not have a job.

AND IT IS DRIVING ME MOTHERFUCKING CRAZY.

Seriously, I am not the kind of person who doesn't like having nothing to do. So sitting at home all day with my mom, two little sister, and three dogs is enough to make me want to commit suicide (except then my puppies would be sold to the nearest Chinese food restaurant).

I won't lie, i am not handling this well at all. I have put out probably applied to a hundred jobs and stripping gigs. I have had 4 job interviews, FOUR, and thus far none of them have hired me. Before this I had a record of getting four out of every 6 jobs i interviewed for. Now I'm at four out of ten jobs I've interviewed for. THIS.IS.KILLING.MY.NUMBERS. What is it going to take to get me hired? Do i need to start showing more cleavage on interviews? Do i need to start offering BJ's to the hiring directors? I mean I have a masters degree and a pretty good resume. I don't know where i am going wrong (besides not shaking my assets at the interviews)

In fairness, one of the jobs i interviewed for had 500 applicants and they only interviewed about 10 of us. So I guess I should be impressed I got interviewed at all. I know its a numbers game, and that there is an over glut of people applying for jobs right now and I'm just tossed into that mix. But patience is not a virtue I'm all that great with. I need to be doing something- anything.

I can't sit at home feeding my dogs jellybeans for much longer. I mean i get excited when my parents send me on runs to Food Lion because that means i get to leave the house and have some privacy for like 10 minutes. If it wasn't like 900 degrees outside I would move into my car.

So does anyone need a live-in stripper-chef-maid-dog walker-make out buddy? I have excellent references.

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Tales From the RA Vault: Tales from the Ho House

So when G-Fab saw that i was doing posts from when i was an RA, he got excited. Since we were RAs together, I asked if he wanted to guest post. He said he had the perfect post, so here it is:

When I was a first-year RA (MANY MANY years ago), I was stationed in a building that was affectionately referred to as the Ho House. A name that, initially, caused great ire among my Co-RA’s, it eventually became a badge of pride for me. I was proud of all of my little Ho’s in the Pent House (A nickname we gave to our floor which was on the 11th floor and only accessible after riding an elevator up 10 floors and walking an additional floor).

For the record, I still motherfucking hate that title. In fact i stopped speaking to a friend of mine once cause i asked him to stop calling it that like 4 times. The little assmonkey wouldn't do it, so i stopped speaking to him until he relented. I do not like being called a ho; I prefer "slut" at least then i have some decorum about me. But back to the story:

The following occurred in the midst of my first semester, before I met the esteemed Coyote Rose who came along mid year that year. I quickly learned a horrible truth that most RA’s would agree with. You should NEVER room with someone you knew before college. Why you ask? Because you spend the first semester getting to know your roommate and your second semester getting to hate your roommate. This was a truth that I learned the year before as a lowly freshman. If you live with someone you already know, you skip the first step and move immediately to your second. A truth I was about to learn.

Well, as a house dominated by freshman and upperclassmen who were too lazy to get their housing applications in on time, I had several rooms that consisted of two gentlemen who already knew themselves. The following account is the first of many incidents that occurred as a result. This particular incident happened a mere 3 months into the first semester. The first semester is usually considered a time of peace among RA’s, sadly this peace was about to shatter. I was in my room, studying no doubt. On what, I don’t recall. It was late, 12:30ish in the morning. When I heard running outside my door.

Exhibit A

Running was never a good sign in my dorm because it meant someone was sick or someone was up to no good. So I checked it out. I noticed that on the east wing of the floor, a small group was gathered outside of a room. As I came onto the hall, I heard a lot of swearing and the disturbing sound of something hard coming in contact with flesh. I dispersed the gawkers and walked into the room to discover two guys stripped down to their tighty-whiteys involved in a fist fight. Apparently this had been going on for some time. I noticed that they were covered in a strange substance and I didn’t know how to process what was going on. Were they genuinely angry? Was this some sort of strange new activity that the kids were into those days? As it turns out, it was a genuine fight.

After calling for backup (IE the biggest RA we had on staff), we managed to separate the too. At about that time the campus police came along. It was then that the truth came to light. Apparently, trouble had been stewing among these two residents who were best friends in high school. What do you wonder the cause was?

Peanut Butter.

That’s right, this uncivil display of bravado and macho-ism was all because one accused the other of eating his peanut butter by throwing the delicious protein substance in the other ones face.

Ultimately, one of the poor souls moved out and they never spoke again. The lesson of the story is: Peanut Butter is not a weapon.

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Fuck My Hair

No Seriously, Fuck My Hair. Anyone whose taken 20 seconds out of their day to look at my picture and you should cause I'm mother fucking hot, who doesn't want to tap my ass my have noticed that i have curly hair. Not just curly hair but Shirley-Temple-Wannabe baloney curls. Seriously, when i was 5 i was a mini-walking-talking-tapdancing Shirley Temple look-a-like complete with blonde-blonde hair. My mother used to have people cross parking lots to tell her how cute i was (its sickening right?)

But while it looks adorable, curly hair is a motherfuckingpainintheass. It's unruly, it does whatever it wants, you can't get a brush through it. Everyone seen the scene from Princess Diaries where the Brush breaks off in Mia's Hair? THAT.IS.MY.LIFE. Seriously, it takes shampoo, conditioner x2, gel, blow-dry with diffuser, silk therapy frizz serum and hairspray just to tame it daily. When i go on vacay i bring twice as much hairshit as i do clothes.

So recently I have moved back in with my parents (yes, it sucks don't remind me) and instead of walking my dogs for 10 minutes 4x a day, now i get to walk them for 30-40 minutes once a day. Which would be great but that means me and my hair are out in 90 degree weather in 100% humidity in NC.  Which for those you who don't understand means its So-hot-i-melt-out-of-my-clothes. It also means that my hair is out in all that humidity. When i come back from my walk i look like goddamn Sideshow Bob from the Simpson. At this time everday i contemplate shaving my head, but i am neither Bruce Willis or Demi Moore and i cannot rock the shaved head look. Plus i think my head is lopsided. No, i don't know for sure but i certainly don't want to shave it and find out. I look enough like a sideshow freak from the carnival already without making it worse.

Don't even get me started on what it looks like first thing in the morning. I look like little orphan Annie on crack. I mean seriously there is nothing cute about a white chick with a big ass red afro. Hence, my cycle starts again and i comfort myself with a shower and my hair products.



Also seriously, what is up with the shoes on this girl? Did she take some of her pubes and paste them onto her shoes? That's some sick shit.

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SUNDAY PIC: Which one is the dog?

I'm really not sure what is more wrong in this picture: the fact that the poodle is pink, that girls outfit, the fact that they match, or the size of that girls boobs. I mean that is a serious amount of cleavage.

*Pic from Awkwardfamilypetphotos.com

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Tales From the RA Vault: Classes Haven't Started Yet! **Part 2**

Actual picture of my Dorm

So when I last left you, Two of my CO-RA's and i had busted 3 college freshman drunk before classes had even started.  So after the cops had finished up all the paperwork the 3 students were free to go. The two boys actually lived in the room the drinking took place in but the girl lived in the all freshman dorm that was about a 7 minute walk from ours. Since it was 2 am by the time they finished and this girl was so plastered she walked into door twice, the 6th floor RA (6) and I decided we would walk the girl back to her dorm. I mean the last thing we wanted was this girl getting raped or mugged by the catcoons (half cat, half raccoon- they were scary bitches) on her drunken stupor back to the dorm.


So we left our dorm and began the walk back. The girl couldn't walk a straight path and more than once we had to grab her to stop her from falling over. Anyways, the girl is not exactly happy or lucid and she is getting more and more hysterical as the walk continues. The convo goes like this (not verbatim- this did happen 5 years ago):

Drunk Girl: I am in so much trouble, my mom is going to kill me

6: I'm sure it won't be that bad. It's college it happens

Drunk Girl: Are the cops really going to call my parents?

Me: Yep, they have to because your under 21
Drunk Girl (even more hysterical and almost in tears): Oh I am in so much trouble. You don't understand my mom is an alcoholic and my grandfather is an alcoholic and they are going to be so mad at me. This is going to cause my mom to relapse and they are going to pull me out of college. I'm just going to kill myself.

Now at this point the 6 and I exchange looks but keep reassuring the girl that its going to be okay. But she continues to be hysterical and she threatens to kill herself another 2-3 times before we actually make it back to her dorm. At this point, we know we can't leave her alone because who knows what she is going to do. But the two of us can't really discuss what we are about to do with her present. So 6 walks the girl back to her room, so that we know where she is, while i call the RA on duty in her building. He comes down we tell him the story, we tell the security guard the story, we call our bosses and tell them the story and my boss comes over. By now 6 is back down explaining everything with me. So our boss asks us which room she is in and we tell her and they call the cops. Except when the cops come she has left her room and we have to find her. We did eventually find her and the cops held her overnight on suicide watch, before releasing her back to her dorm.

6 and I didn't return to our dorm till about 3:30 in the morning and classes started the next morning. Thank god, I scheduled all my classes to start at 11 or later. I consider this my RA initiation- it was the hardest craziest, most stressful event i had happen.

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Tales From the RA Vault: Classes haven't even started yet!

So when I was in undergrad (2002-2006) I was Resident Advisor in one of the dormitories. Yes, I was one of those narky people that got off on getting stupid college students in trouble.This also happens to be how I meet my very bestest friend G-Fab. He was an RA in the same building. Trust me, it was best friends at first site.

Anyways, enough time has passed that I think its okay to share some of my stranger/funnier/crazier RA stories. So I'm going to start with the one that i talk about all the time. When i go to job interviews and the interviewers ask "Tell me about a stressful event and how you handled it?"- this is the story i tell.

It was the Sunday night before class started the next day. My staff and I had just finished checking in our entire building: 11 stories, even floors were girls and odd floors were boys and the 1st floor was the lobby. At any given time we had between 350-500 residents, mostly freshman. I was the RA on the 4th floor and I was sitting on the 4th floor lobby with the RA's from the 5th & 6th floors.  Now you need to know that the 5th floor overlooks the 4th floor, so if I'm sitting on the 4th floor i can see whats going in the lobby on the 5th floor. Also, our dormitory was overbooked, so we had residents living in the study rooms in the lobby.

Around midnight, the three of us are sitting there discussing the last 3 weeks events and we hear commotion going on in the lobby room above us. Two boys are living in there while housing found them permanent rooms. Since the windows are covered, its hard to tell whats going on in the room. Now as an RA, we don't go into rooms without probably cause, and being noisy is not enough for us to go up there. About 30 minutes later this skinny blond chick comes out of the room and walks down the stairs to the 4th floor. She walks through the 4th floor lobby to one of the side doors which lead to the dorm rooms and communal bathrooms.

AND THEN SHE WALKS INTO THE DOOR

Didn't even make an attempt to open the door, she just walked right into it. This isn't like a glass door either. It's a concrete door with a big silver handle. She bounced off of it like something out of a bugs bunny cartoon, laughed and then opened the door and proceeded. The three of us exchange looks and wait for her return.

A couple minutes later she comes back out, clips the wall making a turn to the stairwell and then...RUNS INTO THE DOOR AGAIN. This time its the door to open the stairwell to go back upstairs. We watch her go up the stairs and back into the noisy lobby room.

At this point, the three of us exchange looks. Its blatantly obvious that there are underage drinkers in that room and we have to go in and bust them. Eventually we go in to find 3 Freshman (2 boys and the girl) with a whole trash-bag full of empty beer cans. The cops are called, because we have to for underage drinking, and they cite all three of them. We spend probably an hour getting names, dates, and their story. Then we find out the girl doesn't even live in our building. She lives in one of the other dormitories...

The story actually gets worse, but this post is getting a little long. So you'll have to wait for part 2.

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Selling My Body....

Not like that you pervs.

I was looking for some sort of part-time job on craigslist the other day (you know waitressing, secretary work, etc) so that I would be making some sort of income while I search for a real job. Anyways, I came across a listing for a local fertility clinic that was looking for egg donors.

I wouldn't have thought too much about it but it pays $3500 dollars, and I am a poor ass bitch. It would take me like 4-5 months to make 3500 at a temp job and that's assuming they pay me like ten bucks an hour. So i googled it (because i am not a complete idiot) and after finding out that it only takes about 6-8 weeks and its virtually painless, I filled out the paperwork.

Yes, I am willing to sell my future children for cash. Hey, I don't intend to use these eggs anytime soon, might as well not let them go to waste. For the record, i still have a long way to go before there is even the possibility of them harvesting my eggs. I have to do a medical history, all sorts of medical tests, they need to do an ultrasound and a bunch of other hurdles i have to jump. But the more i think about it, the more i like the idea. Not just for the money, but I'm probably going to be helping some poor women get pregnant who  wouldn't be able to. I mean I would be a surrogate if i wanted to carry a baby around in my stomach for 9 months. After 9 months, i'm going to want to keep the little bastard.

Plus, some couple is going to love me. I'd be a great donor. I have a masters degree, great boobs, curly hair, I don't smoke or do drugs, except for my allergies I have a clean bill of health, I'm not overweight, and dammit I'm sexy as hell. Who wouldn't want to have me as a donor?


Just for the record if i was selling my body, how much would you be willing to pay?

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SUNDAY PIC: Margarita Madness **Updated**

So its UNC-Sis's 21st birthday (technically it was on the 7th, but she wasn't coming home till today). Now at my house the point of birthday presents is to mock/tease/give funny gifts. Since UNC-sis has been drinking since she was like 16, we decided to make a margarita themed gift basket....

...Complete with Sombrero!








(please ignore other stuff on the kitchen table)

And the most ghetto fabulous cake i have ever made. It's supposed to be a cactus, but we got creative with the jelly beans.

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Why Your Online Dating Emails Suck

So I'm listed on an online dating site. No this has nothing to do with my friends who made me a fake match.com profile last year. I don't really use the site for dating. I've never actually met a guy from the site, not because I'm morally opposed to it or anything. But because the majority of the guys on the site aren't worth my time or effort. Don't be confused, I get several emails a week but i probably reply to one out of every 5-9. Why is that? Because their emails/profiles suck. Don't be confused I scour a person's profile before I even open their email. I'm like Human Resources, I'm looking for any reason to reject you for the job. So I present to you the Top Five reasons I won't be responding to your online dating email/wink/nudge/etc :

5. No Picture-  Seriously, without a picture I won't even open your email. Why? Not because i am a shallow bitch who only cares what someone looks like although i kinda am but because I don't know if you are really: a girl, 500 pounds, have more facial hair than a gorilla, a serial killer (yes, i can tell a serial killer by a picture) haven't showered in months, look like you are 12, or dateline NBC. I'm just playing it safe here buddy

4. Your opening sucks- Listen, I know I'm cute and adorable and I have a great profile. I wrote it- of course its awesome. So stating the obvious in your first email isn't winning you any brownie points. Try something interesting for a change, make me think you actually read my profile. I give you plenty of things to go on with my profile, read it, pick something, ask a question. Its not that hard. Don't believe me? Here are the last 3 emails i received:

Dater A: Hi your cute and i like your profile
Dater B: I like your pics and profile, hope to talk to you soon!!
Dater C:  You profile is cool... and your really pretty

Wow with such a boring opening, I should just be throwing myself at you because you are such a great conversationalist. The guys that get my attention actually have something to say or questions to ask.

3.Obvious Hung Up On Ex/ Think Women are Evil-  I must be joking, right? Wrong, I have had emails from guys who start off emails with "You're probably won't respond to this." Damn straight I won't. I don't have time for your whiny passive-aggressive I hate women stance. I had an email from a guy once, whose profile was all about how his ex-girlfriend broke his heart and she was the love of his life and he needed someone to fix the whole in his heart and blah blah blah.... Listen, I don't buy fixer-upper cars. I'm not going to get a fixer-upper boyfriend.*

2. Deal Breakers-  There actually isn't anything most guys can do about these. I'm 26 years old with masters degree, it is highly unlikely i am going to have anything in common with a 22 year old high school drop out with 2 kids working as a cook at Olive Garden. So guys without college degrees and guys with kids get knocked out in the first round. Its not that i don't like kids, its just that I'm not ready to be any one's mother.

1. Lack of Punctuation/ Improper Punctuation- Nothing makes me delete an email/wink/nudge faster than bad grammar or no grammar. If you can't manage proper English you can't handle me. I mean nothing about bad grammar makes you sexy or interesting. It makes you look like a dumbass and i don't have time for that. Don't believe me?
Exhibit A:

Hi my name is [deleted] and just moved to [nowhere] I'm looking to meet a friend I like to stay active as much as possible I like everything from rock to hip hop and i'll try anything atleast once (well almost I am into young or older women I don't judge just trying to new people if this sounds like you hit me up

And Exhibit B:

born t enjoy life,
im friendly,looking t find lovely pretty girl,
im romantic,cool,i respect people,
like swimming,jacusy,going out,drink,relax,enjoy walking on the beach,
chillin at home,,,

That doesn't make me want to email you back. It makes me want to send you to remedial English. So to all you male online-daters out there (actually all online daters period) take heart. Now you know what not to do, so start doing stuff right and maybe someone will respond to you now.

*That particular guy got irate when i deleted his email without responding and wrote me a nasty email. I wrote back stating how A. he was too young, B. he was too hung up on his ex, and C. his grammar made me want to commit homicide and that dating me would be a bad idea.

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SUNDAY PIC: 4th of July Edition

4th of July cake my mom and I made with my grandmothers awesome strawberry jam. It was so good!

Me with Lil' Miss Sis. She was running through the sprinklers. 

Me with Baby Sis. According to my mother I looked like a 1950's housewife in this dress. All I need are pearls and to be pushing a vacuum cleaner.

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I'm a Whore For Awards!

So Naomi over at Naomi Chronicles gave me an award. So thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!! Naomi's blog is awesome sauce about her life and loving a military man (which isn't easy since they are often gone). I should note i love bloggy awards (even though they are really the blog version of a chain letter) because it means people are actually reading this blog which is a shock to me and like it. Of course with any award their are rules:

Rules:
1. Thank the person who gave you the award
2. Share seven things about you
3. Nominate 15 newly discovered blogs (forget 15, I'm doing 7)
4. Let your nominees know about the award!

Seven things you might not know about me:

•  Rose is my middle name, not my first name. I find my first name to be much too unusual to use on a blog.
•  The name Coyote Rose comes from my penchant for dancing on top of bars during college ala Coyote Ugly (hence the title of my blog as well). A friend of mine gave it to me and I find it suits me quite well in other respects.
• My favorite flowers are actually Orchids.
• I hate diamonds; I have never liked the look of them. When I get married (if i ever find someone crazy enough to marry me) I want a pearl ring instead.
• Star Wars is my favorite movie. The Empire Strikes Back to be specific. Deep down, i am a total Star Wars nerd.
• My favorite athlete of all time is Joe DiMaggio and he wore my favorite number (5). 
• I hate mushrooms with a vengeance. I personally want to see them eradicated from the planet.

My Nominees:
Bobby at Inside the Mind of Booya
Sara at Sara Swears A Lot
You're Lucky I Don't Have a Gun at Thing I Like to Eat (...and Other Nonsense)
Magpie at Dazzled by Life
Rie at Random Ramblings
Cinematically Correct at Cinematically Correct
Mel at Mel Learns Her Lesson

So Go Forth and Prosper Bloggy Award!

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