Ashley Dupre Talks Instead of Fucks

"Here you have all these girls accepting gifts, money, trips from Tiger in exchange for sex - all the while knowing he is married. And now they all can't wait to tell their stories in exchange for even more money from the tabloids. And I was the hooker? At least I kept my mouth shut."

So how did we find out Mr. Spitzer liked to do it with his socks on?

And what's up with that cleavage?

Holly, They Make Them Bigger In Texas

Hard To Believe

Which of the following is harder to believe in the Tiger Woods saga?

Jaimee Grubbs said they had sex about 20 times and that Woods frequently complained that his life is overwhelming.

Or...

While Woods is one of the world's richest athletes, he often lamented that he wasn't as financially stable as he wanted to be.

Wnat?

Is that vagina hair from the Renter?

Hemming and Hawing

Have you seen more hemming and hawing than from the Patriots coach after they lost to the Saints?

House of Pain

I recently downloaded Faster Pussycat’s song “House of Pain.” I own the Monster Ballads CD so it was a legal download, just didn’t have the .wav file. “No there’s no one home, in my house of pain.” I have a house of pain. I live in one.

It started when I went to college. Everything was great in high school. When I graduated my family went to Orlando with the family of one of my grade school/high school friend’s family. We stayed on one of the Disney resorts. My friend and I thought it was so cool that we could charge food using our room keys. Double cheeseburgers, ice cream. I gained 10 pounds that week.

My second year in college I met a girl at Summerfest. I stayed at her place a lot over the three years we dated/feuded.

That’s about the time my parents stopped talking and I should have invested in Post-it Notes. That was their mode of communication.

That’s also the time I started drinking.

With turmoil on the home front I stayed out as much as possible. I got a job at a bar on the east side working the door one night a week. I found every bar that was in drunk driving distance from my parent’s house. I still managed to get pulled over three times. After doing six months of work release jail and numerous surgeries due to a rollover accident I finally came to my senses - to a point. I stopped going out if I didn’t have a ride. Later in life I bought a house a block away from my favorite bar. Unlike all these people defaulting on their mortgages I actually pay extra every month.

I’m still putting off ACL surgery due to that accident.

Then one Saturday my dad called me. “I just wanted to tell you that I moved out.”

It wasn’t a big deal at the time. I knew my parents weren’t getting along.

A year later the devastating consequences have set in.

Dad moved out while Mom was at work. She didn’t see it coming. Dad moved out with some other woman. I didn’t find that out till two months after he moved out.

Mom was torn apart. Mom still is torn apart.

After I moved out at the ripe age of 28 I used to go over to their house every night for dinner. My sister was still in high school so she was always home and we’d eat dinner together. Life was good.

Then the phone call.

My dad and I were close, closer than my mom and I were. But now that Dad moved out I don’t talk to him much. When I go “home” only Mom is there. The house is up for sale but not selling. When the house sells Mom doesn’t know what she’s going to do. When the house sells I will no longer have a house that I can say I grew up in.

My dad and I spent a week building the deck on the back of my house in 98 degree heat. That’s a lot of time sweating, bonding. Three years ago and I rarely talk to my dad now.

When my dad moved out I didn’t think much of it. Things weren’t going well between my parents. But now, over a year later, I’m still having troubles coming to grip with the situation.

My mom’s a wreck.

I haven’t seen the dogs I grew up with in over a year. Dad took them when he moved out. I don’t want to go to his new place, basically approving of his moving out with a new lady.

Dad called this week. I hadn’t talked to him in over six months. He invited me over for Thanksgiving. As much as I wanted to see him I didn’t want to see him with the other woman. At her house. As much as I wanted to see the dogs I couldn’t bring myself to go over there. Instead I sat at home and had a frozen pizza. Happy fucking Thanksgiving.

I got a text from my sister. “Why won’t you go over to Dad’s for Thanksgiving?”

I didn’t reply.

Maybe some day things will change.

Till then I’ll continue to have 15 beers a night.

Dulling the house of pain.

Great, Thanks

My Thanksgiving meal (Digiorno pizza) burned the roof of my mouth. Great, thanks.

You Do What?

For some reason or another I didn't feel like changing into jeans or the signature shorts when I went to the bar last night. My normal wear is shorts and a t-shirt, year round. One girl who's been coming to the bar for the past three months now (and who everybody instantly loved, whatever) showed up late in the evening. Sure, I'd do her, but if I tried to brain fuck her I wouldn't get much.

Van: Why are you all dressed up?

Me: Just leftovers from work.

Van: You work?

????????

Seriously?

I guess I hide my "success" pretty well. It'd be the same after I win the Powerball.

LA Personals

So I went on Yahoo! Personals again today and just for shits and giggles I did a search within 25 miles of Los Angeles. You’d think I’d see hottie after hottie on my screen, right? That was seriously not the case. Either none of the hot chicks need to be on Yahoo! Personals or there are a lot of butt ugly chicks in that city. While searching LA for my next fuck & run I did find one thing that irritated me a bit. There must be a lot of those guys who look like women but yet have penises out in LA. What’s that called, trans-men-der-ed? Whatever. I know they might think of themselves as women and listing the profile as “woman seeking man” might seem like the right thing to do to them but come on! After I’ve spent 30 precious seconds of my hectic (!) life viewing and drooling over your photos and then click over to “profile” and find out you probably have more in your pants than I do, well, that’s just disturbing.

Fuck, I knew I never should have watched those videos the FA showed me. That shit will come back and haunt you.

Timing Is Everything

Sunday I started to feel an illness coming on. I was tired as hell (3:15 game) and wasn’t really up for drinking a whole shit load of beer. (Said illness would turn out to be the flu – second time in five weeks – which kept me out of work on Monday and Tuesday.) But that doesn’t mean that I still wasn’t on my game.

This hot chick came in with this guy. I had never seen either of them before. She was cute, nice face, nice smile, nice ass, and even better boobies. At my bar they serve free food during halftime. They put a large piece of plywood over the pool table and put the serving stations on that. I happened to see her go up for a second helping. I sat there and counted. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. When she was halfway around the table I got up and grabbed a plate. I lucked out that she was reaching over for food from the other side of the table when I got on the opposite end from her. To my luck I had the perfect view of the boobies while the light over the pool table blocked her view of my eyes. I stood there and stared until she was done.


Definition of dirty old man?

Laurie, Laurie, Laurie…, Yahoo! Personals Advice

I love scanning through Yahoo! Personals! Absolutely love it! When I come across an interesting photo I like to post it on here for the whole world to see. Well, I found 40-yr-old Laurie today. She had six pictures on her profile. The first couple caught my eye. Here was a 40-yr-old woman who was in pretty good shape and was kind of cute. But then I came to this photo.

Not that I’m a dating dynamo or anything, but this one gave me the shivers. Actually, I’m not even sure if I know what “dating” is anymore. Whatever happened to the good ‘ol days when you’d buy a chick dinner, follow that up with some drinks to lighten the mood and end up getting some action at the end of the date? What happened to those days? What happened to the days of banging your co-workers in the employee lounge while the customers watched “Forrest Gump” or “The Piano”? I remember those days like it was 14 years ago. Ah yes, fond memories.

I should be a consultant for people wanting to set up personal ads online. Again, not that I’m good at the whole dating thing but I sure as hell know what not to put on one’s ad. Here’d be my list of items that grind my beans the most:

1. Spelling, punctuation. No using “ur” or “lol’ on your ad. Don’t write the whole thing in lower case. You don’t want people to think you’re a total imbecile because that’s the way you were raised in the texting era.

2. Don’t ramble on and on about yourself. “I like walks in the beach, camping, dancing, board games, dogs, going out with my girl friends, plays, musicals…” Good Lord, nobody wants to read all that shit.

3. Don’t classify yourself as “average” if you look like you just gave birth to a child.

4. Don’t write that you’re just looking for friends. This is a dating website. Guys want pussy. If you don’t have friends you’re just a loser.

5. Don’t post pictures of you wearing sunglasses. The whole point of posting a picture is to see what you look like, not what you look like wearing Paris Hilton glasses (you should ditch those altogether).

6. Don’t post pictures where your ex-boyfriend has been cropped out of the picture. Just tacky.

7. DON’T POST PICTURES WHERE YOUR BARE FEET ARE EXPOSED!

If someone wants me to review their personal ad I’ll gladly do it for (mostly free) sex.

Wis Plate 592-PKO

You're an asshole. There was plenty of room behind me to get into the left lane. I knew what you wanted to do. I purposely stayed as close to the car in front of me as I could to make sure you didn't cut in front of me. But you did it anyway. Thank God I saw it coming. You flipped on your blinker and dove in. If I hadn't swerved and slammed on my brakes you would have hit me. Better yet, if I hadn't taken the summer tires off last weekend, the ones that stick out past my fenders, I just might have not slammed on th brakes and left you what NASCAR calls a donut on the side of your car. That's still one fantasy I haven't accomplished yet.

Sheila's Hair

Sheila, darling, when posting a personals ad on Yahoo! Personals, I think one of the main goals is to post the best, most flattering picture of yourself. But if this picture of you with the frizzed out hair is your best one, well, God help you.

For the record, I'd still do you.

Fuck Paris Hilton

As I was raking leaves today before the sorry Packer game, breathing heavily and perspiring a bit, I thought, then convinced myself, that Paris Hilton has never raked leaves in her life.

What's Kate Looking For?

What are you looking for when you put a picture like this on Yahoo! Personals? Talk about a boobie shot! Nice.

By the way, the last chica I featured on here has since deleted her Yahoo! Personals account, all because of me I'm sure.

Disrupting the Flow

On any given weekend, just sitting around watching TV, the Renter will jump up off the couch and run to the bathroom screaming, “I gotta go!” I find this mildly amusing and sometimes try to delay her by grabbing the back of her shirt or whatever. She waits till the last possible second and then makes a mad dash for the can.

The Renter also waits till the last minute getting out of bed in the morning. Normally I’ll get up, take the puppy around the block, play with her for a little bit and then hop in the shower. I usually put my clean underwear on the floor and whatever I’m wearing on the toilet. Lately I’ve noticed that when I get out of the shower my clothes are on the ground, meaning the Renter used the bathroom while I was taking a shower. This morning I threw her for a loop. I locked the door to the bathroom. Knowing how she is, getting up at the last minute and waiting till the last minute to use the bathroom, well, let’s just say that she probably wasn’t prepared for the door being locked. Mind you I was very considerate (besides the whole locking the door thing); all I did in the bathroom was take a shower and comb my hair. I was probably in there for all of two minutes. But I don’t think she was prepared to wait two minutes.

I didn’t hear the Renter use the toilet as I was getting dressed for work. That can only mean one thing…

The Renter peed in the basement drain.

I doubt she'll think I was in any way considerate.

Costume

My Plaxico Burress costume went over like a turd in the swimming pool.

Evidence

Little Puppy was a free puppy last night, snuggled up next to me in my bed. But at some point during the night she went into my backpack, pulled out my 80 page notepad/checking account ledger and ate it. Little Puppy's literally in the dog house right now.

Email to Jason:

Two months in a row, monthly newsletter actually on a monthly basis?! Wow. Must not be whacking off so much these days.

My roommate likes to play with my penis. Just that she doesn't know what to do with it which leaves me feverishly pumping it to get the job done. I can understand "Brad's" actions, at least the night time incident. But beating off in the morning is like working out in the morning, fuck that.

After reading that, ever wonder what kind of cult following you have? Dudes who beat off? Girls who are curious about you?

Oh, and I woke up without any underwear on. You know what that means.

Gotta clean house tonight.


If you don't get Jason Mulgrew's monthly email I've copied it below along with his blog address.


Taken from Jason Mulgrew's latest monthly newsleter.



[In the following story, certain names and locations have been changed to protect the innocent.]

Recently, one of my friends here in LA, Kim, went to a wedding. She went as the date of her father, because the wedding was the daughter of an old family friend, and it was held in some beautiful mountain resort in or near Lake Tahoe. So Kim thought: free trip to Tahoe? Wedding? Sure, I'm in.

At the wedding, Kim met a guy, Brad, who was friends with the groom. They spent much of the evening together, sharing stories about their mutual hometown of San Francisco, where Brad still lived and where Kim traveled to often, both for family reasons and on business. Kim was charmed by Brad, but, blunt girl that she is, told him right away that there would be no funny stuff that night. Brad laughed it off, perhaps thinking that he might be able to seduce Kim anyway, but no - the two of them spent the night talking, and when the hotel bar closed up, they exchanged numbers. Kim was planning on being in San Fran two weeks later, and Brad said he'd love to take her out.

Two weeks passed and Kim found herself on a Saturday night date with Brad. Again, the two of them were getting along well; Kim thought Brad was funny and good-looking, and she could tell that Brad was interested in her. Brad, like Kim, was career-driven, successful, and liked to booze. Kim thought she just might be on to something with this guy.

After dinner, they had some drinks, and a little making out started happening. And once again, Kim drew a line in the sand and told Brad that she was not going to sleep with him that night. Considering they started making out again as soon as those words left her mouth, Brad probably didn't believe her this time, either.

But yet again, Kim held firm on her promise. Though they got bombed, went back to Brad's place, continued making out, and slipped into bed and out of some clothes, Kim made it abundantly clear that there would be no coitus that night. As a compromise, the late-twenties-but-apparently-sixteen-year-old Kim decided to give Brad a handjob. In my personal opinion, not the best gesture, but hey, better than nothing.

Kim was only churning the butter paddle for a few seconds before Brad took over the controls and started manipulating his genitals himself. Kim was a little taken aback, and didn't really know what to do while Brad pumped away. So she sort of lay there. And Brad eventually ejaculated. On himself. And then, in under fifteen seconds, he was fast asleep.

Now, this is nothing for Brad to be ashamed of, which is what I told Kim when she told me this story. For as intelligent and sexually well-versed the modern woman is, she doesn't understand that if a man has a boner and a naked woman in his bed, one of them's going to have to go away. It's either going to be the boner, after having been successfully played with and climaxed, or it's going to be the woman, who is creeped out by the guy screaming, "What? You have to finish it! Are you serious??? Is this junior high??? Or are we in Russia??? You can't leave me with this! YOU ARE A HARPIE!!! A TRUE HARPIE!!!!"

And remember, Brad was really drunk in this scenario. Another thing the modern woman sometimes fails to understand is that when a man's blood-alcohol level climbs over .15, his concerns - and his only concerns - are (in order):

- "I want to fuck"

- "I want to eat"

- "I want to fight"

- "I hate my parents" or "I hate my ex-girlfriend" (tie)

This is just how guys are hard-wired (tee hee!). We want sex when we're boozed. In the absence of sex, we want food. In the absence of sex and food, we want to fight. In the absence of sex, food and fighting, we hate. I mean, really, you don't need a PhD in psychology to figure this shit out. It's not hard, people (haha!).

So, I said, I can empathize with Brad, bombed, a naked Kim laying next to him, and needing to get a nut off before passing out. I mean, personally, I probably would not have spooged on myself and instead aimed more in her direction, nor would I have then fallen asleep with the said spooge on me, but still, I'm not one to judge. Really, if I'm fortunate enough to get a nut off in the presence of a naked woman, I'd shoot it in the open and waiting jaws of a pitbull, if I had to. Just gimme dat-dat-dat nut.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, Kim said. But wait - there's more.

The next morning, our new couple-o'-the-night woke up, both nursing hangovers. However, apparently their respective hangovers didn't prevent them from a morning make-out session. Kim was down with it, but, as she later recounted, not more than thirty seconds into their morning make-out party, Brad once again took his own member in his hand and began beating away (Kim hadn't even touched yet). The same scene more or less repeated itself: Kim didn't know what to do with herself and sort of just laid there and Brad brought himself to orgasm, again on himself. This time, however, he left out a deep breath, said "Thank you," gave her a little kiss, and got up to get a beat rag.

Brad offered to take Kim to breakfast, but she said she had a relatively early flight that morning/afternoon (which was true, and which had mentioned the previous night) and had to decline. They parted ways at the doorway of Brad's apartment, with Brad saying he'd love to see her next time she came to San Fran. Sure, Kim said. But she didn't mean it.

************

Kim had told all her girlfriends about this story before she called me to get the "guy's perspective." Giving the "guy's perspective" has been my thing for years, dating back to the days in high school when I was the best friend of every hot girl in the neighborhood, who considered me a repository for advice, a font of wisdom, and a gay, while I considered them in their Catholic high school uniforms, locked in my bedroom each with a sock duct-taped in their mouths, and "Mmm...is that cinnamon I smell? Yeah, you're so pretty...such a pretty girl..."

(Boy, that got real weird, real quick.)

Anyway, Kim was bummed because she thought she could really grow to like Brad, but, you know, there was the whole thing about how he jerked off on himself - twice. She couldn't continue to see him, right?

[Sigh]

What we have here is a tragedy, my friends. The good thing is that Kim and I both agreed to give Brad a pass on the first beat-fest. When drunk, while it's not quite anything goes, a lot of things are forgivable. Beating yourself off is not very bad on the spectrum of "Weird Sexual Shit That Could Go Down While Drunk." Again, it was admittedly a little weird that he didn't seek any help from her, blew it on himself, and didn't clean it up, but that's fine. Booze makes you do silly things.

But Kim couldn't get over the morning masturbation, particularly how quickly Brad got into it, and how comfortable he was with doing it. I explained to Kim another very basic guy rule: sexually-speaking, guys are going to do whatever you let us get away with. And not only are we always trying to push the envelope (or at least nudge it a little bit), to us, there is no "one time" when it comes to sex. For example, if you let us do you in the heinie just once, we're going to both want to and assume it's ok to do it again. Same thing applies for all manner of "borderline" sexual acts: TFing, facials, toys, role-playing, various ass-play activities unrelated to genital-anal penetration, etc.

(Author's Note: Seriously, how proud do you think my mom is right now? Isn't it every parent's dream that their child will someday grow up and email the phrase "various ass-play activities unrelated to genital-anal penetration" to several thousand people, the large majority of them strangers? Man. I'm the best.)

The point is that I thought that Kim was perhaps being too harsh on Brad. So, as someone who works at a law firm and who is a man, I took it upon myself to defend my fellow man, masturbatory idiosyncrasies aside. Thus, I made the following points to Kim:

1) You told him - many times - that you were not going to sleep with him. Don't you find it nice that Brad respected your wishes and went elsewhere for his release? What's a poor guy to do?

2) You were the one who offered him a handjob in the first place. You lead a horse to water, and are surprised when he doth drinketh?!?!?!

3) Re: the night jerk - what kind of effort did you make when you were at the control panel? Did you roll up your sleeves and really get in there and work it? Or was it a lame, half-assed attempt? Imagine a guy trying to be romantic and nice and, say, doing your hair for you. Wouldn't you, if you really needed to get your hair done, at some point gently take over yourself and get that mother fucking hair did?

4) Re: the morning jerk - you said - many times - that you had an early flight. Maybe Brad was trying to help you out and wrap things up as quickly as possible and get you on your way to ensure safe and timely travel? Perhaps it was not his own creepiness that caused him to beat off in the morning, but a sense of selflessness and efficiency?

As I passionately and breathlessly laid these points out to Kim, she sat there listening, then sort of drifted off, then listened again (after I banged on the table), then looked at her cell phone, then I banged on the table again, and then she said, right around minute fourteen, "Ok ok - Jesus Christ, I'll go out with him again!"

************

Am I satisfied that I was able to earn a reprieve for Brad? Of course. I hope that Brad and Kim continue to date, fall in love, marry and have a wonderful family. Or at the very least, I hope that Brad doesn't request on their next date that Kim sit on the couch, not move and not look him in the eye, while he listens to one of those nature sounds cds and plays with himself for a few hours. Keep your fingers crossed.

But the important lesson here, ladies, is that men are wonderful and layered (though not necessarily complicated) creatures, capable at once of great kindness, compassion and love, and of bizarre, embarrassing and incredible behavior - especially when booze and sex are involved. Love us, but do so with a heart full of understanding, and we will follow where you lead.

(And hopefully we will at least have the presence of mind and decency to clean the spooge off ourselves before falling asleep. If we're not really tired, that is.)

Like this? Forward it on to your friends, lovers, co-workers.
To sign up for the monthly email, go to www.jasonmulgrew.com

Restaurants.com Sucks Ass

The FA (of all people) pointed out to me that my corner bar/Mexican restaurant had coupons available on restaurants.com. The coupons at the time were a very good deal. You had to pay $1 for a $25 coupon. The coupon had stipulations that you had to spend $35 on food (no drinks) and they’d tack on 18% for gratuity. I bought two of them and ended up spending $20 each time after the $25 was taken off. No big deal, three of us ate very well for $20, including tip. But then a month later I got a bill on my credit card from Shopessplus.com. After doing a little research (complaintsboard.com) I found out that after ordering the coupons from restaurants.com they had in turn enrolled me in a monthly membership at Shopessplus.com. at a monthly rate of $19.95.

Say what?!

If this happens to you, call 1-888-243-6185, enter “#” when they ask for a membership number, and they will cancel your membership for you. I just did it with no problems. Although I do have to call back; the whole process went way too smoothly and I forgot to ask that they take the charges off my card.

And, to add insult to injury, I received the following email:

This email confirms that your cancel request for your membership in Shopping Essentials+ has been processed on 10/21/2009. Your cancellation confirmation number is 124333378-20091021. You do not need to do anything else to cancel your membership.

We thank you for your interest in Shopping Essentials+, and we hope your membership experience was a positive one.

If you have any comments or suggestions that might help us better serve our members, please feel free to email us at membersavings@shoppingessentialsplus.com.

Sincerely,

Shopping Essentials+
Member Savings

Nothing like a “We took you for $20 and you liked it!” email.

And my email to restaurants.com after I got the shopessplus.com membership canceled:

I received charges from shopessplus.com, after doing research I found out it came from a purchase on your website. Please delete all my personal info from your files. If I receive another email/charge related to my business with your company I will look into pressing charges.

B to the…

To which I got the response:

Hello,

At the end of your order there is an offer to receive $10 cash back for completing a survey and becoming a member with Shopping Essentials. For completing this survey you have agreed to let Restaurant.com give Shopping Essentials your information, including the credit card information that was used in your order. If you do not wish to continue your membership with Shopping Essentials after your 30-day free trial, you will need to contact Shopping Essentials before you get charged the $14.95 monthly membership fee, which will start 30 days after the completion of your survey, which is also the same date as your Restaurant.com order. Shopping Essentials number is 888-999-0564.




Sincerely,

Robert Guercio
Customer Support
Restaurant.com
Tel. 800.979.8985
Fax 847.506.9685
Email rguercio@restaurant.com
www.restaurant.com

Fuck you, dude. I never do online surveys. $10 cash back on my $2 purchase? Where’s my $8? Fuck you, dude.