"Behind every gorgeous, funny, thoughtful, smart, and successful man; is most likely another man. So stop bitching ladies it's pretty fucking annoying." 

Elina Does Miami


I am in Miami conducting "research" for the blog. The subject matter I am studying is the correlation between the amount of Patron one consumes and the frequency at which they bone directly afterward. I am committed to running this experiment until I am blue in the face and sore in the love pocket.

I'll be hard at work getting questionable tan lines and a boatload of "data" for more stories. Stay tuned for an update in about a week...
I am in Miami conducting "research" for the blog. The subject matter I am studying is the correlation between the amount of Patron one consumes and the frequency at which they bone directly afterward. I am committed to running this experiment until I am blue in the face and sore in the love pocket.

I'll be hard at work getting questionable tan lines and a boatload of "data" for more stories. Stay tuned for an update in about a week...

Pre-gaming for Miami pt II

As the Miami trip approaches I am increasingly becoming more and more excited, and slightly more hornier but that's neither here nor there. I have even resorted to bursting out singing "I'm in Miami trick!" to perfect strangers and friends while blasting it on my IPOD. Needless to say I'm down to about 3 friends and 2 police warning now. The number went from 3 warnings to 2 after I took a rather successful "breathalyzer."

There is however one factor that I am slightly uncomfortable with about this excursion, that is the living situation when I get down there. Rita and I are staying with a friend of hers that is renting a place down there. This friend has taken it upon himself to the invite 10 other people to stay in his apartment. This is not a problem at all except for the fact that statistically, I don't see 10 perfect strangers taking a liking to me. There is no way unless of course I give them all hand jobs instead of hand shakes upon meeting them. I have been forced to stop doing that due to the potential threat of arthritis. And no one wants to have Handy-J Induced Arthritis.

Furthermore, the sleeping situation doesn't concern me much as I have outlined several guidelines for Rita and I to follow...

1) Find other people to go home with. Who needs sleep when there are other recreational activities to be doing in bed.

2) Spend a night in jail, potentially getting raped by a whole other demographic.

3) In the case that I do not find a suitable lay for the night, back at the apartment I have no issue with sleeping with one eye closed and the other closely guarding my asshole. God forbid someone trips on the way to the bathroom and I end up getting it in the ass. Not my top choice of wake-up call. I will however empty a bottle of KY on my bed just in case anyways, turning my bed into an adult friendly Slip and Slide.

4) I will inform Rita that I am sleeping with all my personal possessions under my pillow. This includes my cherished teddy bear, and by teddy bear I of course mean vibrator. On the bright side it can also double as a baseball bat in case I need to defend myself.I don't want to turn into my dildo ninja alter ego but desperate times call for desperate measures. I would suggest to Rita that she should look into putting her valuable shit in her coochie, but I'm afraid that's the first place they'll look.

5) If personal space is still an issue after all these precautions have been taken, I will take it upon myself to announce to the group that we have Aids


Something tells me I'll be writing for Frommers in no time.

Pre-gaming for Miami pt I

Philadelphia is so cold in the winter that if I was born with testicles, they would have surely frozen off by this point. But penis envy is hardly the subject matter at hand. The important issue being that I am heading to Miami for spring break. Now most people would associate spring break with heavy alcohol consumption and irresponsible fornication, to that I respond with "well one could only hope to get so lucky" Drinking and porking for a whole week straight takes a lot more coordination and self discipline than most people assume. After all not everyone can sucessfuly balance a bottle of Goose, a bottle of Patron, a cigar, and the Trojan 24 pack all the while trying to quiet their internal sense of decency. Luckily for me, I was one of the few that has been blessed enough to manage all aspects of this grueling process, all it took was will power and years of intense training morning noon and night. Also, luckily for me, my sense of humor has been kicking my sense of decency's balls for years now. Needless to say these talents could only be beat out by pole dancing on the list of things my parents are proud of me for.

To make things even better. my excitement to go with my friend Rita on this adventure can only match that of Kate Holmes when Tom lets her out of the basement for some fresh air. Gotta love Scientology kids, anyone who marries a guy that believes in a religion based off a scifi novel is most likely best left caged in the basement anyways.

I will end this here for now but will continue to post Miami updates. You will be up to speed on what is going through my head right before I leave this butt fucking climate. Then after I get back you will be filled in on every last detail of my days there. Including, but not limited to, a scale of "nipple hardness" through out my vacation. Rita will assist me in measuring this factor, she doesn't know it yet, I might surprise her with her new position when we get lost and she has to use them to point us in the right direction.

Stay tuned to more updates and court dates for when Rita presses charges against me for sexual harassment.

Why IST Class Stands for "It Sucks Testicles"

By my third year of college, coming into pointless classes has become as appealing as having a threesome with Bill O'Riley and Martha Stewart. None the less, I have no choice but to go to these mind- fuckingly boring classes each day of the week. One particular computer class stands out as the most torturous class in the whole wide world. ( I kindly suggested to the professor that this description be added to the syllabus).

A brief note on the Professor I affectionately call Proff Nutmuncher: if confusing people until they contemplate suicide becomes and Olympic sport, Proff Nutmucher would beat Michael Phelps out with a bong. As you can see, this description alone makes me less than enthusiastic to drag myself from the comfort of my own bed (or someone else's) to class. While lugging my own body in on a Wednesday morning I begrudgingly scanned the EMPTY front row of computers and chose the second to last one to spend what I decided to be the last 45 min of my young life. This due to the fact that the class extends for 50 minutes and by minute 45 i usually have this nagging instinct to take a nose dive out the window. Nonetheless, I settled myself in and signed on to my facebook where I seeked out my friends in order to bid my final farewells. Then suddenly, while i was contemplating who to leave my prized Victoria Secret panty collection to, I felt someone lingering over my left shoulder. I turn my head back to find my creepy 50 year old Jamaican classmate staring down at my computer. He mostly keeps to himself so I was bewildered and creeped out by his blatant eye fucking of my computer screen.

"I want that computer." he states calmly.

After hearing his statement, I take a moment to scan the rest of the empty row of computers. As complete and utter confusion comes over me I manage to formulate, "This computer? You want MY computer?" While pointing to my own.

"No, that one." He evenly answers while pointing to the last one in the row. (the one between myself and the wall)

Annoyed that he even bothered speaking to me while I was planning my living will I quip, " Well go right ahead Princess I don't see how I'm in your way."

Not moving an inch he responds, "I don't want to share the space."

At this point I can't help but laugh right in his face. "Haha well sucks for you then, I don't see myself moving anytime soon. Settle down and continue to watch me sit here, ass"

With a look of slight disappointment he continues to march down the row and plop his hairy ass down at the computer of his choice, the one right next to mine. So here we are, alone, sitting in the empty row, he and I, by ourselves. After about ten seconds he starts mumbling to himself, then at the 20 second mark the smell of manure with a slight hint of AXE starts radiating off him and rapidly traveling in my direction. Soon, after another moment of awkward silence, I loudly announce...." Hmm ok well you know what? I kind of want to move now." I then proceed to move all the way down the row and let smelly Jamaican guy have "his space" and the 10 empty spaces next to him. From a safer distance I continued to openly mock him with the girls sitting behind me for the remainder of the class.

These days I continue to use class time to draft a living will because I am fairly certain Jamaican guy will come back to class with a machine gun next time. There are only a few people I can successfully use as a body shield before he gets to me and shoots me for laughing at him, Proff Nutmucher of course being at the top of the list. However I will say this, if he shoots me sometime in the beginning of class, it'll all be worth it.