Tag Archives: balls

Origins #8

1 Feb

We ditched the trolly out the front of my apartment building and laughed our way up the stairs to my shitty little apartment. Y’know, I’m a bit harsh on my place. It’s a very small two bedroom unit thing but it does sit above the others and has a nice enough view over the city of Perth.

Rene and I spilled in through the door, both reasonably drunk and a quite knackered from the walk. Pushing the shopping trolly laden with one boss’s daughter aboard for a few blocks had taken the wind out of my sails for the time being.

Shots fired!

And what’s the smartest thing for a guy to do once he’s got his somewhat drunk boss’s daughter in his apartment? Why, offer her a drink of course!

I assumed Rene would ask for a water or cool drink or something. “You should make me a cocktail!”, was her actual response. I don’t know where she thought I was hiding the cocktail bar. I just laughed and told her it’d have to be a cocktail shooter. Making mixed drinks is just one more thing I know bugger all about, but when I was 18 I did learn to layer drinks in a shot glass, so I got to work on that.

Shot cocktail collection: Red and Blue Tequila

Like this but wayyyyy less classy

Changing it up

The reason we were at my place, as far as I was concerned, was for me to get changed so we could head off to humiliate ourselves at the nearest karaoke bar. With that in mind I told Rene I’d go get changed out of my work uniform into something more appropriate for drunkenly screaming into a microphone in front of bewildered strangers. I changed into a half decent looking shirt and a pair of jeans and switched my sneakers for some shoes nice enough to get me past the ridiculous footwear expectations at the bars in Perth.

I was all prettied up and ready to go but Rene had other ideas.

“You haven’t showed me around your place yet”, she explained. So I gave her the grand tour or the loungeroom/kitchen, the balcony and the second bedroom, which had my weights bench set up in it. This caught Rene’s interest and she decided she wanted to have a crack at bench-pressing what I had on the bar. To my surprise, she actually managed to get the bar back up mostly on her own. She wanted to go for another but I warned her I was probably too drunk to spot her properly, and that we should quit that particular endeavor as winners.

Instead of leaving the room though, she hopped up on the weights bench and leaned up against the window looking out at the view. It struck me how that was the most ridiculous way you could go about seeing the view. I mean, you don’t need to be on your knees on a weights bench with your arse pushed back to get a look at the view. Yes, I did appreciate the view I was getting in that scenario, but I still wasn’t planning on any shenanigans of that nature.

Bullshit! You were after something!

Yep. I’d be lying to say I wasn’t hoping for something to happen that night. What I was hoping for was that Rene would cut the bullshit and let me know she was actually interested. I figured once we’d both admitted that we were into each other, we could figure out if it was worth doing anything about. I was hoping for words, rather than actions, because actions are what would get me in trouble. Words were risky but a lot safer.

I wasn’t so keen to admit I was into Rene. I don’t think I’d really even considered if I was into her or not. I had so much more contact with her sister Laura, and I’d caught myself becoming interested in her but I’d always shut it down because she had a boyfriend. With Rene, I had a crush going for her but I’d never thought about anything beyond that because she wasn’t around as much and because I didn’t really understand what she was after, and I thought she was out of my league anyway. I couldn’t tell what she was really after, and I wasn’t going to get carried away overthinking a bit of flirtation here and there.

There was also the issue that, if I was going to be stupid enough to have a go with either of the Everlong sisters, I would have to choose carefully because I was certain that trying with one meant blowing my chances with the other. I didn’t realistically think I had a chance with either of them, but y’know how it is… when you daydream about possibilities you still like to keep your options open.

But there I was with Rene in my place, both of us fairly drunk and she was throwing some seriously flirting my way.

Better call Laura

Whenever things seemed to be calming down for a second, Rene would demand we have another drink, so I kept making those goofy layered shots and we kept knocking them back. They were full of vodka and advocate and whatever else I could find. They weren’t tasty, but Rene was pretty keen to keep the alcohol flowing.

I was in two minds as to how to deal with the situation I was in. Heading out to the city meant taking my boss’s daughter out on the town when she was already acting a bit over the top, but staying at my place meant potentially doing something that might jeopardize my job. I thought it was a safer bet to head out for karaoke, so I suggested it. Rene told me she’d rather hang out at my place for a while, that maybe we’d go later but we should watch a movie or something in the meantime while she rested up from the walk to my place.

Rene and Laura were very tight-knit sisters, so Rene decided she’d better let her older sister know where she was. That seemed pretty reasonable to me at the time but I quickly realised that having the family who own and manage the company I work for talking about the fact that the youngest daughter was at my place, and sounding a bit drunk, might not be a greatest thing for me.

I’m not a wise man when I’ve been drinking, or ever really, so the best solution I could come up with was to find a humourous interruption to make it obvious that nothing dodgey was happening. A flicker of stupidity ran through my head and I grabbed my guitar, interrupting the phone call with a magnificent rendition of “Burn for you” by John Farnham.

I chose that particular song because it had come up in conversation with Laura earlier in the day, in the same conversation where we ended up talking about letting people know if you want kids or not.

John Farnham

John Farnham was a hugely popular singer in Australia. I bring him up because he happens to play a weirdly significant role in the overall story. If you want to learn more about him, check out his wikipedia page but suffice to say, he was massively popular in Australia, especially throughout the 80s and early 90s and the Everlong family and I, and pretty much everyone else, were all adoring fans of the guy. That fandom will come into things later on.

Anyway, in the conversation I’d had with Laura earlier in the day, I mentioned that I loved the song Burn For You and she told she thought it was Farnsy’s most boring song, so when I chose to interrupt Rene’s conversation with Laura by playing that specific song, I was being a cheeky bugger. I was playing a song I knew she found annoying and thought was a great way to imply that everyone at my place still had our clothes on and we were just having fun being silly.

The backfire

Rene finished up the call with her sister, put her phone away, and suddenly burst into tears. At the exact same time, I felt my phone vibrate like I’d just gotten about 10 text messages. I ignored the texts for the time being and squished up next to Rene to ask her what was going on. As it happens, the lyrical content of the song Burn For You is all about a guy who’s desperately in love with a woman, Rene had completely misinterpreted my choice to play that specific song to Laura at that point in time.

Through her tears Rene said, “You like Laura don’t you?”
“What to do you mean? What are you talking about?”, I said.
“You’re interested in her. You don’t like me, do you?”, she said.
“Where’s this coming from? She’s got a boyfriend!”, I asked her.
“Yeah she’s got a boyfriend and you still like her more. Why do you like her more than me? What does she have that I don’t have?”, Rene sobbed.

By this point I’d wrapped an arm around Rene in an effort to console her. My other hand was on her knee. She sat there on my couch with her knees up in front of her, her head down, tears rolling down her face. I’d done my best to ignore it but I did have a crush on her and had done for a long time. There I was trying to console this girl who I liked as she cried because she thought I wasn’t interested in her. This same girl had made it clear earlier that night that she wants people to treat her like a normal girl and forget that she’s my boss’s daughter. I was stuck with the choice of either telling her that I’d liked her for a long time, or leaving her to cry in front of me in my own place.

Rene stopped talking but continued to cry. I leaned in and kissed her. She kissed me back. It was one of the most intense kisses I’ve ever been a part of. I remember the slight taste of salt on her lips from the tears. I remember that the way she kissed me back reassured me that I hadn’t made the wrong choice.

 

Crazy bitch tip: If you spend all your time concealing your intentions, don’t expect people to trust you.

Princess Rene

9 Sep

The word Princess

What do you think of when you think of a princess? Class? Elegance? Grace?

princess_grace

Princess Grace, of Monaco. Doing the being a princess thing right.

I guess Princess Grace is a bit old fashioned compared to our modern world. Times have changed, after all. I mean, here’s Princess Mary. A totally different story, right?

Princess Mary, of Denmark. Also doing the being a princess thing right.

Princess Mary, of Denmark. Also doing the being a princess thing right.

Oh. She’s actually classy, graceful, elegant and demure also. Hrmm. It appears there are certain traits that will always be associated with those ladies bestowed with the title ‘Princess’.

Strangely, I notice that one of those traits is not screaming at men to punch themselves in the balls.

“Pardon?”, I hear you ask.

I’ve noticed that women who give themselves the title of ‘Princess’ tend to not really possess the honorable and admirable traits mentioned above. In general, I’d have to say that most women who decide for themselves that they’re a princess, are usually, kinda classless, horrible, crazy bitches. I’m not saying that if you called yourself a princess when you were a little girl that you were an awful little monster. Of course not! You were a kid playing kid games and using your imagination to pretend you were someone wonderful and glamorous! What I’m talking about are fully grown women who go around calling themselves a princess when they’re not.

Princess Rene

So I did a little research and found a prime example of crazy bitch who calls herself a princess. Allow me to introduce you all to ‘Princess’ Rene.

'Princess' Rene. Kind of the opposite of a real princess.

‘Princess’ Rene. Kind of the opposite of a real princess.

Clearly, princess Rene has all the outward components of an attractive woman. Unfortunately, I suspect our dear Rene here is verging on mentally ill, and I say that because I have seen a video of her ‘at work’. I’m going to post the video below but let me first say that this video is targeting an adult demographic and it’s going to get weird. I’m telling you this ahead of time because getting caught watching this video is going to be tough to explain to your boss, or your mum, or, well, anyone. Anyway, take it away Rene…

Let’s just take a minute and consider that, huh?

“My lips are natural and gorgeous and lips that women pay thousands of dollars to achieve.” – princess Rene

“That’s right loser. You’re going to feel some pain for me.” – princess Rene

“In order to get your first kiss from me, I want you to take your hand and make a fist AND PUNCH YOURSELF IN THE FUCKING BALLS” – princess Rene

“Is this fun for you? Cos it’s fun for me!” – princess Rene

“Look at you. You would do anything for me wouldn’t you, you fucking bitch” – princess Rene

“You would do anything for meeeeee. And why wouldn’t you? I’m fucking perfect. I’m amazing. I’m gorgeousssss.” – princess Rene

“I want you to do one last ball-punch” – princess Rene

The charming princess Rene.

The charming princess Rene.

I’m not going to pretend there aren’t guys out there that are attracted to ‘bitchy’ girls like this but I can tell you that I’m not one of those guys. I can also tell you that any guy that is attracted to women like this has some issues that might be worth dealing with. Seeing that we’re on How Not To Be A Crazy Bitch though, I’m going to focus more on the pink-lingerie clad, little nut-bar we’ve just watched scream into a video camera of some sort for few minutes with the intention of getting men to punch themselves in the balls over her.

More than meets the eye

What strikes me as interesting about Rene is that she is playing out the natural extension of a certain type of woman, that type being the attractive but very insecure girl. If you spoke with Rene (or whatever her real name is) about this video, she’d tell you she’s just playing a role, just pretending, that she’s only doing this silly stuff because it’s a way to make easy money. But I’d call bullshit on that, because someone as physically attractive as Rene here, could be making money hand over fist in a bunch of different ways because, let’s face it, men are pretty quick to hand over money when a good looking woman is around.

Nope. Rene here is absolutely into what she’s doing. She’s getting her jollies knowing that she has a power over guys. I’ve run into girls like this. I guarantee you that Rene will treat any man who shows interest in her like he’s a worthless piece of shit but she knows deep down she doesn’t really have any power, and that’s why the guy who ignores her is the one she’s going to chase. Of course, she’ll only chase him until he actually shows that he’s interested in her, at which point she will immediately relegate him to the rank of loser in her head and lose all interest in him.

Girls like Rene spend their whole lives ‘testing’ men by treating them like absolute shit, and the only guys they’re interested in are the guys who don’t give a shit about them because those guys don’t react to her bullshit. It’s ironic because girls like Rene end up throwing themselves at the guys who don’t care about them specifically because those guys don’t care about them, and then they complain about the fact that those guys don’t care about them. Then, to make themselves feel better, they abuse their power over other men in order to return the pain and suffering they felt at being rejected or ignored.

Don’t be like Rene

Think about it like this: If Rene here were really as confident and happy as she would like us to believe, would she really be stuck filming herself on a computer in a random, empty bedroom? Wouldn’t she at least have a cameraman?

Everything about Rene’s behaviour in the video screams to me that she’s a spoiled little kid who never matured into adulthood. She’s fueled by her joy of abusing the natural power her physique gives her and comes across to me as a vapid, self-centred, sadistic, angry little sociopath who is very confused about her position within the world. Do you think Rene sits back at the end of a long day filming “punch yourself in the balls” videos and thinks to herself, “I’m really living a fulfilling life of pure joy and satisfaction”? I doubt it.

Look, if you won the genetic lottery and as the result you’re an attractive young woman, please don’t waste your time playing stupid, pointless, hurtful power-games. You won’t get what you really want out of it, all you’ll do is cause yourself and a bunch of other people a shitload of unnecessary suffering. Look at what the truly happy people in the world do… they treat each other with respect and consideration and they certainly don’t intentionally inflict suffering or test each other for vulnerabilities.

I’m in my mid thirties now and I’ve seen a lot of the girls that were really good looking when we were growing up somehow fuck themselves out of finding deep and meaningful relationships with good, genuine men because they couldn’t get past this immature urge to play power games. Don’t make that mistake because I’ve seen those same girls start throwing themselves at anything that even remotely resembles a man when their biological clocks start ticking and the crows feet start settling in, and it ain’t pretty.

Crazy bitch tip: Give the power games a break and try actually doing things that lead to happiness instead.

 

Do not leave marks on your children

30 Jun

This rule applies to all people and all children. This rule is simple. This rule is not negotiable.

DO NOT LEAVE MARKS ON YOUR CHILDREN.

The fact that you birthed a child does not entitle you the right to cause that child physical damage. It does not entitle you the right to intentionally scar that child. If you believe it does, you are a fucking crazy bitch. You are such a crazy bitch, that you’ll like go to prison.

That’s an important indicator during your self-evaluation. Think to yourself, would I go to prison for doing this thing that I’ve got it in my head that I want to do? If the answer is yes, and you continue anyway, have no doubt that you are a crazy bitch.

See this?

This is unacceptable. You do not need to brand your children, they will still be recognised as yours through their use of language, the fact that they live with you and that old reliable stuff we call DNA. Even if someone branded you, you still should not brand your children.

How about this?

This is also unacceptable. You should not have your children tattooed. Tattooing is permanent and it is painful. There’s no bloody reason you need to have a tattoo put on your child. Even if you’re a satanist and you want to hail your demon deity, you still don’t get to put a tattoo on your child. Do you know why? Because that’s fucking psycho! That’s why! Yet again, even if someone tattooed you when you were a child, you still should not tattoo your child.

What about this one?

Burning a child for any reason, is unacceptable. Do you understand? You don’t get to apply a burning hot iron to a child because your hair isn’t straight. You don’t get to burn a child because they’ve been crying. You don’t get to burn a child if they’ve accidentally cut your leg off with a chain saw. You should never burn your child.

And this?

Ripping your sons scrotum and applying superglue to the wound is not acceptable. Regardless of how angry you are, you don’t get to tear the flesh of your child. Regardless of how bad your day has been, you don’t get to rip the scrotum of your son. Regardless of who has been cruel to you in your life, you don’t get to grab your sons genitals and rip away at them so hard that you separate the flesh of his body and you sure as fuck shouldn’t try and fix it with glue and cover up the incident instead of seeking medical attention.

What the fuck is wrong with these batshit, crazy bitches?

Crazy bitch tip: If you know you’re a crazy bitch, please don’t procreate.

Video

Episode #13 – Holding them

8 Jun
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