I like a Good Challenge, So I Challenged Myself
As if there’s a better opponent… sha, right.
Can I Write 20 Topics in 20 Weeks?
I’m a procrastinator. Bad. The worst kind. This page has been set to private since I started this self-challenge on 12/24/2020. But, see, that only kept me from bein accountable if I failed. If no one knows then it never happened, right? And I I don’t fail, I post it and look like a champ. Well, kinda hard to find any bragging rights about any of that bullshit. So, I decided to publish it and if I end up going down in flames, well, it hardly matters. It’s not like this is my Tinder page, and I’m super popular.
I’m going to make a bullet point list of topics that I’d like to write about. One topic, once a week. Let’s see how this shit show of a circus goes, shall we? I’m wanting to write about the following:
- What single life is like (Started on 12/29/2020 Doing a Solo in Life) (Completed 01/01/2021) Success!!
- A letter to each of my children
- The people who most greatly influenced my life (good or bad)
- The most difficult decision I ever had to make
- Twenty interesting, random, unique things about me
- My Zodiac sign, if I buy into it and if it fits my personality (Started 01/02/2021 Hold the Fuck Up!) (Completed 01/02/2021) Success!! FUCKING NAILING THIS!
- A moment in my life I felt most satisfied
- The first time I fell in love, or at least thought I did (still do)
- I’ll play my favorites on Spotify on random and write about the first five songs that play (Started on 01/04/2021 Five Favs Picked On Shuffle) (Completed on 01/11/2021) Barely a success, but still was!
- My main core belief’s and morals
- Why I’ve become friends with my demons
- Living with mental heath issues
- A person who fascinates me and why
- A person who I miss (My Dad (Started 01/02/2021 My Shot at Taking Snaps) (Finished 01/02//2021) Success!!
- The best advice I ever received
- Ten things that make me instantly fall in love with life again (Started 01/11/2021) I lied, I meant to start that day, but a serious battle with the depressive part of “manic-depressive” happened. I’ll try to start sometime today, not that it matters. Nobody reads this shit. (Actual start date 01/17/2021)
- Bullet-pointing my whole day (this one should be really easy!)
- What do I actually do for a living?
- Why I make a better Villain than a Hero
- What is the secret to happiness (according to me, anyway)
Wish me luck, fuckers. I’m gonna need so much of it…. so, so much, nah… fuck off. I got this.
You know, it’s like my mama used to always say to me, “April, what the fuck is wrong with you?!”
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But we can fuck without any problems…
If you didn’t pick up on my play on words and heavily layered sarcasm in the title of my blog, kindly leave us xxx adults alone and ask yourself what you’re doing with your life.
So, let’s talk about sex. This one is for the ladies. But don’t worry, fellas, you’re gonna like it so stay tuned. To my fellow females: like, what in the fucking fuck is going on with you all? I’m so ashamed of being a woman with the likes of you out there ruining these angles of men in the world! Wow.
I’ve heard so many stories and complaints and bitching (and granted, men do bitch a lot already, I know) about us and our sexual prowess, our libido and our desire. Ladies, I am not part of the problem here, (and I know many other women who aren’t the main problem, so stop making us look bad!) and sure hate me, or doubt me, (I already know that you won’t fuck with me. Ya’all ain’t even fucking your men!) for making that statement, but I’m sure you’ll understand what I mean as I express myself in point. The word on the street isn’t what you assume it is, or at least, mostly it’s not. But our reputation is that we’re lazy, inconvenienced, not passionate and don’t share pleasure with our partners as they do with us. Yes, I know, men lie. A lot sometimes. But you ladies are also known for being evil back-stabbing cunts, so I’m giving the guys the benefit of the doubt.
For instance, women rarely initiate sex. If the tables were turned, think about how it would feel to always have to make your desire for your partner constantly shown first. Granted, you can’t just pull out your engorged sex member out to show proof, but you can still think of something. You assume, well, maybe he doesn’t really like sex with me or I’m doing something wrong but he’s still fucking me so he doesn’t hurt my feelings, etc. Those are only hypothetical examples. I have no idea what your personal insecurities would tell you, I can only say that you would have these insecure feelings after a while. Insecurity, doubt, assumptions and suspicion will kill any sex life as certain as the dusk turns to dawn each day. You enjoy him making the move, (except when I just want to sleep for the sake of everything holy in this world!) especially the very first move. More guys have told me that they play out again and again in their heads if they will be able to kiss you at the end of the first date. They have anxiety over it most of the time building up to the event. They’re looking for signs, any sign. She grabbed my hand! She called me, cute! She touched my back! Anything, really. And they don’t do all of that for merely a simple kiss, they do want to kiss you. They pay such close attention to your signs because when they go to make that move and they are rejected it hurts and they are embarrassed. Rejection is painful. As women, we rarely get very much rejection and the reason for that is because we rarely take the risk. We are lifted away from that burden. And right?? I know, more anxiety about a kiss than much else that first date.
“But, but, but… men always want to do sick shit. All he wants is to stick it in my pooper or he wants me to watch porn with him or give him blow jobs.” – Karen’s of the world.
Yes, they do. Yes, they’re fucking perverts. But unless it’s involving hurting someone, or it’s without consent, rape, or anything to do with children… I say what’s wrong with that? I’m pretty fucking perverted myself. And if that man is going to eat my pussy like he’s starved for days and he’s eating it like he’ll immediately die if he doesn’t eat enough pussy, I’m going to really want to be the pussy who saves his life. I want him to want to eat it like his desire to do so is because he fucking loves to do it. His passion and hunger just to make me feel extreme pleasure, well… the thought of it just now is making me become aroused. I love feeling desired. That he hungers for something that he needs to have from me, and in order to watch his actions give me the most mind blowing, intense and insane pleasure again and again and again…. Mmm..
….I got a little distracted there. I had to take a break. Only five minutes because it only takes me four to get myself off. I apologize for the short interruption. But Iguess it’snot appropriate to just say, “Excuse me, but I’m going to have to be right back. I gotta go flick the bean,” even though I know you ladies spend so much time solo-fucking. For example, of all the sex toys that are designed, created and sold why is it that over 90% of these toys are designed to please women? There’s no way you girls are perverts. We are! But you girls don’t want be to think that. Why? More than likely, if you tell your man, after reading this insightful, life changing blog and you’re thinking that I’ve got a good point. Tell your man that you want him to fuck you tonight with thr 8″ hot pink dildo equipped with variable speed controls, the clit wand, a remote control and when you use the other end a tiny rubber device attached is going to suck that clit into nine levels of heaven. How do you think he’d respond? Tell you that your a sick, perverted little fuck? No! His clothes will fly off the second you say the first three words… “I want you to fuck me…”
So stop being a timid little lamb. Girls, we don’t have to play dumb or pure in order to have a man desire us. We have almost equal rights and we make almost as much money as they do, now. It’s the 21st century. No more damsel in distress! And fucking stop believing that by being open about your true desires or secret fantasies are going to make Jesus cry and then decide to live with all the shame that Jesus taught you from childhood about being sluts, whores, dirty, unclassy women who no man will ever marry. Fuck, I’ve been married twice, stalked 7 times and my online dating profiles with men who are flooding my inbox with offers of castles, cars, true love and probably quite a few dick pics. And you’re thinking it’s because guys think I’m easy. I love sex, fucking, all of the positions, possibilities and acts. I’m writing a blog openly about my high sex drive. I’ll tell you, very few men have ever rejected me because of my nonexistent shame and purity and I was only rejected once for not being a Jesus fan, but it was by a guy who asked me to stick my big toe in his asshole. Actually, two: a catholic priest. Hahaha! What? Too soon to make a joke? Lol
And for the record, I’m not a whore, I’m not easy to get into bed and I don’t just walk around ripping mens penises out of their pants and immediately sucking them off.
The reason why I think that men desire me is because of these four factors: (and also, I’m hot)
- I didn’t grow up influenced by organized religion. I don’t have any ideas of being sinful or disappointing to my parents or peers and especially not to Jesus. (the selfless superior being who sacrificed himself so that my soul was redeemed) From my experiences in life, nothing is free, and if it’s offered as such than you’re currency. The product in trade. Ladies, fuck off with your Jesus guilt! I promise, Him and your Grandma aren’t watching you suck chocolate pudding from a strippers asshole and then spitting it in your man’s mouth. If they were watching you, what the fuck is up with their sick minds?
- Desire. I desire to be touched. I love and want my partner to suck my soul from my cunt and after I cum, I want him to keep going until I cum again and again and again. Men love to make us feel sexual excitement. It’s kinda about their ego and how much of a man they are to make you have a seizure and lose mobility in your legs for an hour afterwards because he gave you the most earth-shattering orgasm that you can’t walk. You have been fucked into disability. In all honesty, they love pleasuring us, more especially if they love us.. They love that shit! Know who else does? Me, because OH. MY. GOD that was fucking hot.
- I’m open, direct, not shy and I initiate. I don’t get embarrassed talking openly about sex to anyone. Like anyone! I feel no shame from having sex. I’m a biological organism with chemicals and hormones that program me into wanting to get fucked bent over the coffee table in his grandma’s house. Sure, it’s a different balance of programming for each of us, but it’s there. Most women will deny that part of them mentally, even saying that they don’t like it, or they’re unable to have an orgasm. If it’s not because of a physical issue, it’s a mental block. Breeding is a strong survival instinct. Hard to say no to.
- Sex is fun. It’s so much fun. See, I’m open minded, I listen to and obey my biological urges, and I fucking enjoy fucking so much. So, when you don’t have any outside trauma or bad experiences, or feel ashamed for hurting Jesus’s feelings, then why can’t you desire his cock deep into your cervix as your body gives waves and waves of pure pleasure over your entire body, again and again and again. Your brain is flooded with dopamine, adrenaline, serotonin and oxytocin. (All of the happy-good feeling hormones and chemicals in your brain that cause you to be happier, relaxed, and more bonded with your partner). Plus, ten minutes of vigorous sex burns roughly 370 calories. I know of no treadmill that does that and it’s not boring as fuck.
I spoke to a young man who said that he doesn’t even really enjoy blow jobs. Like-whoa, mutha fuckah! What??? Then I asked him if he had a dick, did it work, and is he sure? Turns out that he had all of that and was very sure. I had to ask why, then? Men have started wars, ruined families, committed murders and more just to please that pecker pole, so we all know that it’s pretty hard to swallow (you catching on to my word play and innuendos yet?) that this young man just said no. Not really interested in one. It was a little sad. But he did explain why, and not like he was bitching or trashing women (and reassured me that he was not gay), he simply said that he thinks that women don’t like his dick. Which was absurd! I’ve seen it (Dick pick PM) (I’m lying) up close and personal. It was a very nice dick indeed. I told him that’s obviously not the reason. But see, he was concerned because even though he did receive blow jobs, the woman didn’t do it like in porn or his buddies wife whom he heard of. No excitement, he said. No enjoyment, no motivation, acted like it was a chore and barely even knew how. And catch this: they never swallowed!!! They didn’t even spit, these princess prissy-ass ametures. They just stopped and he’d cum on myself. He said it wasn’t much fun and never understood the hype. Ladies, I got this shit figured out from Cosmopolitan in my teen years. I don’t like looking stupid like I didn’t know how to do something and sex interests me, so I learned a lot. I’ll share a few tips for you preschoolers at the end of the blog. But my point is this: if he kissed you like that, or chomped on your box like he was counting down the seconds he could stop… wouldn’t you feel undesirable? Hurt?
And ok, this question is primarily directed at a certain type of woman and you know her, you’ll see her in your mind as soon as I describe her. Those upper middle class, short bobbed, two-tone died hair in Starbucks ordering a pumpkin spice latte wearing pastel pink yoga pants, a visor, a down jacket with a turtle neck, no socks, slip on shiny silver Sketchers and far, far too many heavy diamonds on all of her 50 pieces of the set. Pretty much a Karen. Yeah, those cunts, I need to know: why in world do you all just lay there like a dead plant (I know the term is dead fish, but even dead fish move more than this savage bitch) and don’t move, always on the bottom position, and expect him to do all the work, please you and then walk off feeling good about it all? If you were wondering why, Karen, your man can’t find your clit, it’s because you’re not spreading your legs apart and sitting on his happy grinning face. That, or he probably lost his desire to locate it because he’s on his way to Samantha’s (the families hired maid) after coffee and going on a run. Samantha turns upside down and she’s not satisfied until his dick is so far in her throat that her eyes water tears and she gagged so hard a couple of times she puked a little. Go Samantha! You are our new team mascot!
So, ladies, I don’t want you to think I’m asking you to do anything at all that would make you uncomfortable or put yourself in a situation where you’d get hurt. Despite my colorful and creative rambling I was trying to share a very simple message. I promised you some tips. You take off with it as far as you like, or fuck off and continue your miserable life. Or maybe go initiate sex and swallow for once?
- Show him that you desire him. If you actually don’t desire him, then you should move on and stop wasting your time and his. Initiate sex. Touch his body, be affectionate. If you’re interested in other, more fun and exciting ways just contact me. I’m full of exciting material
- Talk about sex. Often as you can or want to. Be honest. Express yourself and your needs. Flirt, send a nude, bite his neck. Whatever. But the most beneficial thing is to communicate. Secondly, do not judge or ridicule your partner. You don’t have to like the idea that he wants to put his thumb in your ass during doggy. You absolutely don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, but don’t judge him. Accept it and move forward.
- And ladies, seriously. I’m so disappointed in you. Look, if you’re going to suck cock, you fucking suck that cock! Don’t stop, complain, whine, or half ass it. You get that cock oiled up with your drool and you suck on it like it’s the only source of oxygen you have. And to the Spitter-Bimbos: you are so dumb. It’s way more messy and it stays in your mouth longer when you spit. Trick is to put his tip to the back towards your throat right as he starts to cum. The cum slides down your throat, there’s hardly a taste, no messy sticky stuff to clean up and the smile on his face will tell you that he thinks you are a magical beautiful sex Goddess who has just granted him the one thing he’s always wanted for Christmas, every year for 23 years. And you cold, sociopathic, heartless, black soul little hoes who just stop? I have no advice other than to say stop trying to play house and tickle his wee-wee. Trust me, your man will be very grateful that you did.
- Lastly, I write only from experience and for my own amusement. I’m not a doctor nor do I play one on TV. The libido can disappear for many reasons, some being physical. Visit your doctor if you feel that might be an issue. Health comes first.
- Women, do not ever, EVER, do things you don’t want. Don’t jeopardize your self respect, your personal morals or do something just because he might leave you. If he wants to leave, an awesome blow job or anal or a threescore… it will delay the inevitable. Don’t lose yourself in the process and then blame yourself when he leaves anyway.
- Love yourself. Know yourself. What are you good at, do you spend time caring for yourself? Do you take pride in your accomplishments and can you sit alone in a room for hours and say that you enjoy the company you keep? Confidence is sexy as fuckall. You can’t fake it either. But you can be it.
So, men really aren’t sexual heathens (well, with a lot of exceptions, lol) and it’s not really a problem for a couple who feel comfortable with each other, communicate and enjoying the moment together. Like I always say, “Find yourself a man who fucking loves you, and loves fucking you.”
If you’ve ever listened close to silence,
I’m sure that you have heard,
The gentle constant ringing,
In the small space between two words.
When you really pay attention,
You’ll find it’s not just in your head,
But instead it whispers of the words,
The one that was left unsaid.
It’s the, “I love you,” left unspoken
And a mother’s last goodbye,
That she never had the chance to say,
Before her daughter died.
It’s the forgiveness never given,
And an apology left too late,
That would have saved a best friend’s life,
If they had known that it could not wait.
It’s a phrase that could help them,
And it’s scars that could heal,
It’s the words from those too scared to say,
The truth of how they feel.
But you do have an advantage,
For you’re still alive to speak the words that could help save a life,
Or give strength to someone weak,
So may you never leave unspoken,
Words the world ought to hear…
Before they just become more ringing in another person’s ear.
I peek through blinds that are tightly drawn,
Shocked by the glow of the breaking dawn.
I shun the brilliance of another day.
Enslaved and entombed, I stay hidden away.
The night was long as I lay awake,
Anxiety choking like a poisonous snake.
My self-hatred grows like some malady
That I pray will soon be the death of me.
Being hated and scorned is painful indeed,
And that love can be torture, we all must concede,
But to be ignored and forgotten can vanquish one’s heart
Until it’s in pieces, just shattered apart.
To feel nonexistent is so hard to abide,
When you know that your heart is still beating inside.
And how do you save your sinking soul,
When you feel yourself plummeting into that hole?
My dreams don’t provide any rest or relief;
They only replay my regrets and my grief.
I honestly don’t know how I came to this place,
But it’s clear to me now that there is no escape.
You may call me weak and lowly at best.
I’m trapped in self-pity, I must confess.
I long for some quiet, just a moment of peace,
But my negative voice refuses to cease.
My greatest enemy resides within,
But how can I battle myself and win?
I find this a callous, duplicitous life,
Not worth any effort to fight the good fight.
Surviving, instead of living each day,
Sheltered inside sturdy walls I create.
Fleeting moments when hope will linger so nigh,
But those feelings of wretchedness still once again rise.
Getting through every moment and each empty day,
Feeling lost and panicked in this chaotic maze.
Still not giving up and not giving in,
With my greatest fear being that it won’t ever end.
They say that happiness will find you, But I think sadness finds you too,
It sneaks up on you in darkness,
Just when you think you’ve made it through,
It opens holes in what was solid ground, The kind you never know are there,
Until you go to take another step,
And find you’re standing over air,
The world around you passes by,
In blurs of colour and sound,
Nothing around you making sense,
As you continue your plummet down,
You can’t remember how it started,
And you don’t know when it will end,
But you know that you’d give anything,
To stand up on your feet again,
Sadness is that feeling,
When the falling doesn’t stop,
And it saps your life of meaning,
And all the good things that you’ve got,
So when you finally hit rock bottom,
And you look back up at the sky,
What you once had seems so far away,
The only thing left to do is cry,
People all say out “save yourself”,
Calling things about “happiness” and “hope”,
But they’re too busy with their lives to realize,
It’d be a lot quicker if they just let me down a rope.
The History of One Tough Motherfucker, by Charles Bukowski
he came to the door one night wet thin beaten and
a white cross-eyed tailless cat
I took him in and fed him and he stayed
grew to trust me until a friend drove up the driveway
and ran him over
I took what was left to a vet who said,”not much
chance…give him these pills…his backbone
is crushed, but is was crushed before and somehow
mended, if he lives he’ll never walk, look at
these x-rays, he’s been shot, look here, the pellets
are still there…also, he once had a tail, somebody
cut it off…”
I took the cat back, it was a hot summer, one of the
hottest in decades, I put him on the bathroom
floor, gave him water and pills, he wouldn’t eat, he
wouldn’t touch the water, I dipped my finger into it
and wet his mouth and I talked to him, I didn’t go any-
where, I put in a lot of bathroom time and talked to
him and gently touched him and he looked back at
me with those pale blue crossed eyes and as the days went
by he made his first move
dragging himself forward by his front legs
(the rear ones wouldn’t work)
he made it to the litter box
crawled over and in,
it was like the trumpet of possible victory
blowing in that bathroom and into the city, I
related to that cat-I’d had it bad, not that
bad but bad enough
one morning he got up, stood up, fell back down and
just looked at me.
“you can make it,” I said to him.
he kept trying, getting up falling down, finally
he walked a few steps, he was like a drunk, the
rear legs just didn’t want to do it and he fell again, rested,
then got up.
you know the rest: now he’s better than ever, cross-eyed
almost toothless, but the grace is back, and that look in
his eyes never left…
and now sometimes I’m interviewed, they want to hear about
life and literature and I get drunk and hold up my cross-eyed,
shot, runover de-tailed cat and I say,”look, look
but they don’t understand, they say something like,”you
say you’ve been influenced by Celine?”
“no,” I hold the cat up,”by what happens, by
things like this, by this, by this!”
I shake the cat, hold him up in
the smoky and drunken light, he’s relaxed he knows…
it’s then that the interviews end
although I am proud sometimes when I see the pictures
later and there I am and there is the cat and we are photo-
he too knows it’s bullshit but that somehow it all helps.
Thanks for letting me share one of my favorite poets.