Dreams really do come true. Not just at Disney...sometimes at The Roxbury too.

Tonight I performed for the first time on stage! It was by far the greatest feeling! Having people actually laugh at your material is so incredible. I can't even describe how I felt when I looked into the audience and saw this lady laughing super hard at my bent penis joke! I feel like when you are a beginner in comedy and people laugh at your stuff, you realize you are actually being successful at what you are trying to do. I guess that's how a prostitute feels after she realizes she gives a great blow job, her talents won't be wasted! It's so sappy to say that tonight one of my biggest dreams came true, I've always wanted to perform and make people laugh, it was unbelievable actually doing that. My uterus is making my super emotional today and I wish I could shrug it off and say 'it ain't no thang', but this right hurrr, this is a thang, a sweet thang! Comedians never know if they will make it, and if their names will become well known, and I have no idea how far I will go with this, but it really doesn't fucking matter, because I can say that I did it to some extent! A massive thank you to everyone who made it out to see me perform! And a bigger thank you to The Offenders of Comedy for giving me the chance to be onstage! My fear about doing comedy is that people will say 'she's a funny female comedian' fuck that noise, I just want to be a funny comedian! Ya dig!? So once again, thanks to everyone who is always insanely supportive of me, and I promise to do some blog posts ASAP to keep you entertained! Nearly 8000 views by the way, dang son.

The shit my friends and family say...featuring guest writer, the best video hoe trick I know, who rocks bangs like no other bitch can, the amazing Ana!

As a university-educated, semi-attractive (who are we kidding, I’m gorgeous), gainfully employed, white woman in her late twenties, I have a lot of problems. And, if the internet taught me anything, it’s that my problems are important and unique. Like a snowflake! Also, that people need to hear about them in great detail. My number one problem is that I am as awkward as a middle-school dance; at least as awkward as they were back in my day. Today’s kids just skip the awkward adolescence and go straight to drug use and casual sex the moment they turn 12. So their middle-school dances are pretty sweet. On an unrelated note, they are also a great place to sore some bomb E and to pick up younger, but physically mature dudes. My number two problem is that I can’t deal with any inconveniences. If I have to stand in line for longer than five minutes, I lose my shit. I begin to believe that the world is a horrible, unfair place and asking why all the bad things happen to me and me alone. If I buy something online and it takes more than five days to get to me, I feel like I have been wronged by the universe. I get cranky and depressed. If I’m sitting next to a crying baby, I really start believing that its parents decided to procreate just to piss me off. But I think everyone feels that way. I mean, scroll through your Facebook newsfeed and try to tell me that given half a chance you wouldn’t forcibly sterilize half of your so-called friends and co-workers. That’s what I thought. Anyway, a while ago my two problems (awkwardness and general inability to handle small inconveniences) were weighing heavy on my mind. So one day after a particularly trying commute from work, where I was surrounded by people and essentially assaulted by a 90 year-old woman (seriously, she hit me with the strength of ten thousand men, pulled my hair and pinched me), I realized that I just couldn’t go on. It was time to consult a professional. Like all white women with problems, I knew that my only answer was to see a psychiatrist. So, I made an appointment. At first, I was hesitant. Did I really need to see a psychiatrist just because some old woman violated my body and soul? Was I being dramatic? But then, I realized that it was going to be fucking awesome. Best case scenario: I moonwalk out of there with some sweet, sweet prescription meds. Worst case: I sit around for an hour and talk about how everything in my life is the fault of others while the kind doctor validates my totally awesome, unique feelings. I was so excited! Finally, the day of my appointment came. I had to sit around and fill out a bunch of forms before the doctor would see me. Mainly questions about my childhood, my relationships and feelings. After carefully answering the questions in a way that showed that I’m smart, misunderstood and unhinged just enough to get a prescription, I was led into a room. Finally, I would have a psychiatrist of my very own. I felt so grown up. I just knew that within days I would totally be one of those sophisticated women who wash their Xanax down with white wine spritzers and pass out face-first on their silk sheets. I even made a mental note to stop by Wal-Mart and buy a set of their finest polyester blend. For that brief five-minute wait, I really felt like I was on my way to being somebody. Finally the doctor came in. He looked a little disinterested. But, that’s totally okay, I mean he doesn’t even know me yet, I rationalized. He started reading my forms, the same way I read back of shampoo bottle while sitting on the can. All of a sudden he looked up at me. This is my chance, I thought, to say something witty and cement myself as his favourite patient. I opened my mouth and the first thing that I said (loudly) was, “So, give it straight to me, doc. Do I have Down syndrome?” “I beg your pardon?” said the doctor, clearly confused. “Do I have… down syndrome?” I asked, much quieter this time. Clearly, he wasn’t getting the joke. He stared at me, with a slightly perplexed and worried look. “No,” said the doctor. He was completely serious. “Do you think that you do?” Seriously? What can someone say to that? If I was feeling like a sophisticated patient of a real-life psychiatrist minutes ago, that feeling was now gone. “Oh, I don’t actually think I have it, I just thought it would be funny to say, like a joke, you know?” He looked at me, for what felt like an eternity. “Oh,” He didn’t even smile. “You don’t. You don’t have Down syndrome.” I’m not going to go into the rest of our appointment, because I don’t remember what we talked about. I just kept thinking about what I said. Did he think I was serious? Was there a chance that I may have it? Was my joke so inappropriate that he refused to acknowledge it? Did I accidentally commit a hate crime? Should I just stop interacting with people? I walked out feeling defeated, and like a bad, awkward person. I needed to talk to someone, so called a few friends. They laughed and agreed that I was in fact a bad, awkward person. Whatever, my friends are assholes anyway. Like they would even know what a good person looks like. At home, my boyfriend rolled his eyes at me and called me an idiot. He also said that I was a bad, awkward person. The next day, I consulted my co-workers, who sort of laughed and looked uncomfortable. Now that I think about it, they were probably just being polite. I told the story to my boss, who pretended to not hear me, both times I brought it up! In retrospect, it wasn’t the kind of story you tell your boss. I see that now. I know this has been a very drawn out story. You may ask what the point was. Well, there is no point. Except for the next time you are feeling a little maladjusted; ask yourself “Have I ever asked a mental- health professional if I have Down syndrome?” Chances are, the answer is no, so good for you.

Cashew dick

A couple of months ago I was minding my business, getting a grande crackacinno from Starbucks when this guy approaches me and gives me some stupid pickup line and asks if we could exchange numbers and meet up for drinks or food sometime. I wasn't really interested but I figure I will get two things out of this, 1) free food or drinks and 2) something funny to write about. Sure enough, here I am writing about this, and I got a few free meals seeing as we went on a few dates. Our first time out was nice, he was a decent enough guy and had a foul potty mouth, and I like it when people swear like a sailor, makes me feel like I'm at home. But my gut instinct was telling me to run (realistically I would just walk briskly, my fat ass isn't running anywhere, let's be honest) . But this guy and I stayed in touch and went out a few times despite what my instinct was telling me. Over the last couple of months I found it odd that he only really called or texted during the day. Usually between the hours of 9 to 5...the hours he worked. And our dates usually took place during lunch hour. Now, I don't know what gave this man the impression that I'm a moron. Everything about this situation screamed that he had a girlfriend or wife. So I bluntly asked him, and I haven't heard back from him since. And I know you read this blog fucker, so when you read this, I hope you realized you're an asshole. And you have TERRIBLE game, even Stevie Wonder could see this shit. I also hope you realize you're not good looking enough to get away with that shit, if you die, come back looking like Channing Tatum, then maybe I would be blinded by your good looks and have questionable judgement. Nothing about me screams that I have low self confidence, low morals or daddy issues, so go try your busted up playa playa moves on someone else you turd. And as well, find a more flattering penis pic if you're going to insist on sending them to women, that angle was not your friend. Cashew dick mother fucker.

My name is Leanne, I am 27, a single white female, a Virgo and I like longs walks on the beach....

People always seem to be curious as to what kind of man is my 'type'. It is a well known factoid that I am single. Along with being single, everyone always tries to hook you up with someone they know. Believe it or not, I don't really have a specific type that gets the kitty purring if you know what I mean. I've dated all different types of men, computer nerds, thugs, body builder steroid freaks, young guys who's balls just dropped, business men, students, and the list could go on. They all have one key factor in common....a penis. If you have a penis, you stand a chance. And a trait that goes well with having a penis is if no one else is claiming that penis. I'm not a fan of men who are married or in a relationship that try to be sneaky, you will get caught, and us bitches be cray cray , so you don't need that in your life. When you are in a relationship it's not acceptable to act as if pussy is an all you can eat Buffett and try to taste all the tacos you can from all different taco stands, eat at home homie, if you have a good, hearty meal at home, why go out to eat?! So if you are a cheater, you likely aren't my type. People always question what type of ethnic background I fancy in a man, and to be completely honest, if you lined up all the dick I've had in my life, it would look like a United Nations meeting. My vagina does not discriminate. She is an equal opportunist. If a guy comes up to me and makes me laugh right off the start it's a good sign, and if he can tell me a funny joke and has facial hair of some sort, chances are, he will be seeing my vagina sooner rather than later. I also need a guy to be slightly immature, immature enough to laugh at the word 'hyman', but mature enough to have a conversation and debates about important, more serious topics like, why did Doritos make 3D chips?! The age of a guy doesn't really matter, preferably young enough that you don't wear pastel coloured golf shirts and have a retirement villa in Florida, and you don't have grandchildren who are the same age as I am, but not so young that the only way I can calm you down during a fight is with a juice box and a cookie and an afternoon nap, and you're too young if the only reason you are dating me is so you have an adult to help you get in to watch rated R movies at the movie theatre. I like independent guys who aren't needy or clingy, I like when a guy understands I need my space and is okay with times where I want to be alone and read or write (aka watch Pornhub with no sound on and do comical voice overs to make the scenes way funnier) in another room while he watches tv or something, if I wanted someone to be around me all the time and never be able to get rid of you, I'd just get herpes. A man should be like a well trained erection...knows when to go away when you want him to, but is always there when you need him to be. I'm not really into guys with weird fetishes, to each their own, but somethings I'm just not into. Such as super intense foot fetishes, I'm sure it's great, the guy loves feet and would likely rub your feet all the time, but if he's always trying to rub your feet with his dick it's little weird, but I guess a foot massage is a foot massage regardless of what he uses to massage it?! There ya have it, that's what I'm looking/not looking for in a guy. All men who qualify to fill this position, please line up, single file, in alphabetical order, please bring 3 references, and proof of employment, and the position I'm looking to fill is...my vagina.

The day we were no longer virgins...she said VS. He said

This is going to come as a surprise to some of you, but I am not a virgin. I know right? I just blew your minds.I thought it would be interesting to do a little experiment. I've always had a weird obsession about hearing peoples stories of how they lost their virginity. It's always hilarious even when it's not meant to be, luckily for me, I'm still friends with the guy who got the honour of taking my V-card. So I am forcing him to write a dual blog post here about our experience of taking the plunge into sexual beings. I asked him to write down how he remembers it, and without reading his, I am writing down how I remember it, and let's see if the experiences turn out the same and if we remember all the same details. Here is my story of the day he plucked my flower from my garden, Justin and I were always boyfriend and girlfriend throughout public school, I want to say it started in grade 3, possibly before then but I'm going to say grade 3. He was the class clown and I was pretty much how I am now but weirder looking, terrible glasses, terrrrrible hair and I wore a lot of fleece zip up vests. Justin was just the cutest, usually had a mushroom cut, wore a lot of yellow, and was the kid no parent wanted in their group when we went on field trips. Clearly my bad boy obsession started at a very young age. Over the years Justin did really cute things to win me over, such as giving me a plastic ring in the shape of a spider to declare his love for me. He left a single red rose on my seat at the IMAX theatre when we went there for a field trip, the rose was accompanied by a note asking if I'd be his girlfriend again...likely for the 50th time that year, we broke up a lot. It was clear at that moment, this boy had my heart,and in a few years, he'd be the first guy to climb Mount Lula (lula is my nickname for my vagina). Over the years Justin was my first everything, first kiss (in a closet during school), first dry hump, etc. But to be fair, I know Justin was a lot of girls first kiss, he was a pimp in public school, no doubt about that. Justin moved on from cute love notes, to perverted notes slipped to me during grade 8 math class that said things like, 'just touch it....' I eventually did touch it, I touched it in math class, and eventually the entire class including my teacher found out I gave Justin a handjob(and by handjob I do mean I think I just touch his peepee) in math class which is when the nickname 'jerky jerky' was coined. That is also when I learned how to laugh things off and roll with the punches. We finished public school and were entering high school. We still hung out and usually met at the local hockey arena near by. At this point we both knew what sex was and I knew, well at the time thought we were ready to mash our private parts together. I believe it was either the march break going into high school, or the march break during our first year of high school, but I know for a fact it was march break. We met up at the arena, hanging out on the top floor, which was always empty. Justin spent days trying to convince me to have sex in the hallways of this cold arena. I wanted our first time to be special, so we made plans to meet up at his house because his mom would be at work during the day. I remember putting on my best fleece vest, and black ModRobe pants. I walked over to his house and rang the door bell, Justin opened the door with this big, goofy grin, and way too much gel in his hair, but he was still the cute, goofy boy I swooned over in grade school. How I remember it, we kissed, and then he said...'so, you like stuff?' And he grabbed my hand and led me up stairs. I don't think there was any foreplay. I don't really think teenagers take their time prior to penetration. I do remember him struggling with putting the condom on. When he did get it on, it was go time. To be very honest, I think the first minute he spent humping my thigh. But eventually he got the rabbit in the rabbit hole and we were no longer virgins. I can't even really recall the specifics of his penis, not that it's not memorable but more because there has been a penis or two in my life since his, and I don't think I could identify what his penis looks like in a penis line up. I recall Justin asking if I was doing okay, so that was nice to know he cared about my well being. But really Justin, neither of us knew what we were doing and you didn't really beat the pussy up that time. We finished, well...he finished. I don't think I knew that a female should finish too at that young age. But the sex ended.i think the whole ordeal from start to finish lasted as long as a commercial break on T.V. He laid there in bed with the biggest smile I have ever seen in my entire life, and I lay there worrying about everything that happens now that I am no longer a virgin. We got dressed and headed over to our friends house. I made him promise to not tell our friends, but when we got there and our group of friends were hanging out in the basement watching movies and we walk in, Justin with a grin the size of a School bus and myself being wayyy to quiet and flushed in the face, gave it away that we had done the hanky panky. I'm very happy I shared that special moment with Justin, we were longtime friends, and still are! He is now the father of two boys, and has an amazing fiancé, he is a local rapper, which always made me laugh because I lost my virginty to a white guy, but he turned out to have more street cred than any black guy I've had sex with. Okay, so now on to his side of the story, .................................................................. "sooo me and a buddy were looking at the fact that we were highschool virgins. to be honest I dont even think we were actually in highschool yet but it was comming up fast and we were like yooo...apple pie. We knew if we were gonna be cool we had to get laid. TV taught me that. So how we got these girls to come over is a little hazy. I think it was foggy that day. regardless, when they came over I remember hanging out in the living room for a little bit, then bringing Leanne upstairs leaving our friends in that room. I burned a cd of music that i liked at the time and was like this is the cd im going to be listening to when i dive into the messy flesh flower for the first time ever for! i was pretty hyped about it. I dont know if I was smoking pot at that time yet but if it was in my life chances are I was high for it. so we went into my bedroom, then i think some more fog drifted in or something and i ended up the bathroom. I think she told me to fuck off for a minute or something. maybe i was doing it wrong? or she needed to prepare or something. I don't know how it works for girls. either way, i looked down at my dick and smiled at it. I was like yaaaaa. but the minute i touched it I ejaculated everywhere. i was like wut the fuck! it wasn't even really hard yet i didn't understand. I looked back at it and was like you muther fucker you better not fuck this up for me. so I cleaned up and was like ok..time to face the music i so cleverly selected. i came out and she was under the blanket. i wanted to rip the blanket off and fondle her vagina akwardly until I learned how it worked. like the time me and greg dobbs smashed his brothers radio so we could look inside and see whats going on. but i was like...shes probably not going to go for that so i dropped my pants and jump in under the covers. my dick didn't really get too hard cause i just spermed all over my bathroom but i was like i dont give a fuck! im going to fuck right now! i might have made out with it first i dont remember. but i do remember the first time i placed my manhood into the warm sweet embarce of vagina. my dick got hard and it lasted a minute if i'm lucky. in my head i was like ok, im gonna have to work on this but at least i set my foundation for being cool when i get to highschool. im not gonna feel like carlton on the fresh prince of bel air in the episode where the guys are in the beach house talking about sex and carlton gets embarrassed cause hes a virgin so he ends up sleeping with the wife of some dean to a prestigous college he was hoping to attend. only he didnt know she was married so he gets sad. its a good episode. anyways im SirReal the real deal Holyfield and I took away Leanne's virginity.".................................and there you have it! The same story...told in two different ways! What I learned about losing my virginity, it wasn't show stopping, the world moved on, there was no article in the London Free Press the next day. We both grew up to be two odd adults, me a wanna be comedian and him a white rapper, it's not a sappy love story, but it's our story., and a big shout out to Justin for writing his story for me, even though he didn't want to, but that just reminds me of how powerful pussy really is, it can still make a guy do anything you want him to do, even if he hasn't seen your vagina for over a decade!

If I don't live through the night....

It's a rarity that I post more than once a day, but you're in for a treat, because something traumatic happened, and I have too much to say for just a Facebook status update. So, I was downtown in a coffee shop writing and when I left there I stopped by a store to buy some stuff, one of the items was a bottle of pop. I got home and cracked it open, took a sip and just as I swollowed I realized the pop was flat and that when I twisted the cap it was loose, god fucking damnit, it was already open. Now for anyone who lives in the city that I do, you know the people who hang around downtown, so I can only imagine the type of person tampering with my pop. So, these are my worries. Someone skeeted in the pop, now I'm pregnant, because the sperm made it all the way through my digestive system into my uterus. Science would try to tell me otherwise on that theory but fuck you science it could happen. Someone could've put AIDS infected blood in the pop, and that'll really piss me off, if I didn't get AIDS from the sketchy tattoo place I got my first tattoo at when I was 16 but I got it from drinking coca cola Ima be angry. I just picture some hobo with no teeth, wearing a ratty old Metallica tshirt and black tear away pants that have poop stains on the ass, licking the inside of the pop bottle I just drank out of. What if I just got drugged? I'm going to be alone in my house tripping bawls all high off some mystery drug, I will wake up from my daze with a half shaved head, a burning anus from trying to do a DIY anus bleaching kit, missing 3 out of 10 toe nails, and have a collection of midgets locked up in my basement all because I took a sip of a pop that was tampered with! Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?! If I don't make it through the night, make sure someone deletes my internet history before my parents see it, please just take my underwear drawer and throw it out, don't look in there, there are too many things in there I don't want my loved ones pondering about for the rest of their lives. And make sure I get buried without pants on. I hate pants.

If only life lessons were taught like they were shown on Full House.

I am not a parent and I may never be, it all just depends on how drunk a guy can get me during my most fertile days of the month that determines my chances of becoming the mommy to some lil rascal. But I do know, there are certain things parents should always talk to their kids about, if these certain subjects aren't discussed it can be traumatic for the kid when they are forced to find other means to figuring shit out on their own. You don't need to go all Danny Tanner from Full house and sit your kids down at the dinner table, and have sappy music playing in the background to get the point across to your children. I'm going to use my own personal experiences to let all the parents out there realize how important it is to give your kids some cheesy, awkward after school chat about the things they have to look forward to in life.and I want to start this off by saying I have amazing parents, they did a great job of raising me and my siblings, but they likely feared certain conversations and didn't go over the basics with me...so these are the stupid things I discovered on my own. Let's start off with simple hygiene, like shaving my legs, my mom didn't give me the talk about this, but I got made fun of at school for having hairy legs, so I found a razor and sat in the bathtub with the razor in my hands and had no idea what to do with it. I didn't use any kind of soap, lotion or anything that would make my first shave easier. So I went at it, and sliced a 4.5 inch gash into my ankle and literally when I pulled away the razor there was a piece of skin that looked like turkey jerky. I nearly bled to death in the bathtub and spent the next 3 weeks trying to hide the wound from my mom. Next topic, the first time I got my period, now I know the guys won't want to hear about this, but you never know if you will have a daughter who will need you to talk to her about this. My parents didn't talk to me about what would happen when I officially became a woman, when I finally got my period, it wasn't like it is in the Carrie movie, there isn't a mass amount of blood everywhere and no one is throwing tampons at you in the high school locker room showers. Instead I went to go pee and noticed I had brown stuff in my sailor moon underwear, I thought I sharted and was dying of embarrassment in the washroom thinking I had to throw out my fav pair of undies because I pooped in them, I told my mom, super embarrassed and she said, ya you got your period and handed me a box of pads. And that was the end of that conversation, I was now a woman, and you become a woman by sharting in your panties! Now on to the most embarrassing part of it all....when I was a preteen I knew the word penis, I knew boys had it, didn't really know what it was for or what it did, but I knew my dog Shadow had a penis, and when he would get all excited this pink slimy slug looking thing would come out from his penis. So I just kind of assumed that's what humans penises looked like too. And when I became a teenager interested in sex, and boys, and experimenting with the boys, I was kind of grossed out thinking of that image of how a dogs penis looks like being in or near any part of my body. So the first time I saw a real life human male penis, I was upset because I thought the guy wasn't interested in me because the little pink slimy thing didn't come out of his penis when he was excited. It took me a few moments to clue in that humans penis and dog penis do not look anything alike. Although the guy and the dog had same features about them, always trying to sniff my crotch. Moral of the story is, parents, talk to your kids about things, I know it's awkward and weird and no one wants to have these conversations, but your kids will likely be thinking weird fucked up things unless you tell them the realty of it all. But if you don't want your daughters giving blow jobs at a super young age just show her a picture of a dogs excited penis, and I assure you that she won't be eager to suck a dick anytime soon!

I don't like it when you talk while looking at my vagina.

Sometimes in certain situations, silence is golden. I know when people work with customers or clients they think they need to fill the silent void and constantly talk. But it just makes the situation awkward. A perfect example of this is when you go to a doctor or a gynaecologist (my auto correct is trying to change that to say gun colonist lol). Whenever I go to see the vagina doctor for a quick check up on the elusive pink panther it usually turns into an awkward situation. You get changed into your backless, assless gown, laying on your back with your feet in stirrups, then the doc asks you to scootch down a lil bit more, then you move your butt down an inch, the doc says, ohhh a lil more, so you move a lil more, your ass cheeks decide to eat the white crunchy paper that is lining the table thing you are laying on, you don't move down enough for the doctors liking and she/he just grabs your hips and moves you down to where your ass should be. Your legs are spread eagle in a bright, veryyyyy well lit sterile room, and you start to panic wondering if you missed a spot while shaving your legs. While your vagina is out in the wide open, the doctor is looking right at her, and this is when I want it to be silent. No words need to be spoken, just do what you need to do, enjoy the view, and we will go on our way. But nope, the doctor thinks this is the perfect time to chat it up. With one finger inserted inside of me she asks, 'so, Leanne, what do you do for a living?' I start freaking out, can she tell what I do for a living by the wear and tear of my vagina? I think of jokes to make about it, maybe tell her I am currently inventing a Chapstick for your vagina lips to prevent chapping in the winter weather!? but I just say I am in customer service. She is probably thinking 'ya....customer service...do you mean servicing dick?' She then starts talking about The show, Orange is the new Black, a show about women in a prison who are horny and usually sex each other up. Whyyyyy is the doctor talking about a show with lesbian tendencies while digging through my clam like she is looking for a pearl?! She continues to make small talk all while staring right at my love box. In moments like this I rather just listen to the slight hum and buzz of the fluorescent lights then have her blowing wind from the chitchat onto my labia.

'The shit my friends and family say...' Featuring guest writer Alexandra Love

"Like me, I’m sure many of you have things that turn you on. Whether it be men with beards, men with money, men with ten foot cocks that will ruin your insides should you allow them to get inside your fragile pussy. Some people even have fantasies that turn them on whenever they think about acting them out with a willing person. Some are normal, like schoolgirl or hot librarian… the typical. And then, we have the weirdest, oddest, craziest, don’t know how you came up with that one, fantasies. Back when I was promiscuous and curious about the world of sex, drugs and cock&roll, I had an experience with an odd man. Now don’t get me wrong, he was nice, there was just something a little off the first time I met him. Then, later on down the road, when things heated up, I really discovered how odd this man was. Let me point out here that I am open minded and will usually try anything once, so in the bedroom I usually don’t turn anything down. So I’m at his place and we’re in bed, things are getting hot and he asks me if he can put on some music. And I said, hell yeah, put on something nasssty and make me feel like one of the whores in the Candy Shop music video. So he runs over to his stereo and as I’m ready to start bumping and grinding with him, I hear an odd sound. The music he was playing. It was familiar to me, soothing in a way, but at the same time it dried up my pussy as if someone stuck a ShamWow up there. It was Beethoven! You know, the classical musician, the deaf guy with the white hair (white hair a turn OFF by the way). I thought, for sure he put in the wrong CD, or put on the wrong radio station. But he started walking back to the bed to continue where we left off. It wasn’t a mistake. I asked him what this music was for and he said we were going to fuck to it. He said he loved fucking to classical music and it really turned him on. He said he wanted to picture me as an innocent virgin from back then and he was disgracing his family name by having sex with me. I reminded myself that I was open minded about this kind of thing and I pushed my way through the rest of the night (sex is sex, right?) Needless to say that was the last time I ever saw Mr. Classical again."

Not all posts have to be funny, putting aside the dirty jokes for a moment

Sometimes it is necessary to take the time to clear the air and to break things down for the ignorant people that polute other peoples lives. Every person will have to face an ignoramus at one point or another, we will all have those people who will try to defecate on our hopes and dreams and can't pull their own head out of their ass for a moment to realize sometimes small things mean more in life then all the big things combined to some of us. When I started this blog I didn't think I would have anyone reading it, I could never imagine that even one person out there would care enough to read my simple, unintelligent, baffling bullshit that I would be typing and posting. But for me, I needed this. Sometimes in life things get to heavy, the shear weight of your past and your shattered soul from life's complications become too much of a burden for ones heart to handle. My comfort blanket is my humour. The day my brother died I tried to laugh to myself that I wouldn't have to pay him back the $20 I owed him, or that I could now have the sweater of his he would never let me wear, it was much easier to make a joke and find a laugh then it was to face the fact that my life as I knew it was destroyed. Sometimes when you're the funny person, people forget to ask if you're doing okay, because us funny people are experts in turning any situation into an entertaining tale so people always just assume we are happy go lucky people. To some people this blog is just dumb and a waste of time, to me it's a saving grace, my own thoughts and sadness were weighing me down the last year or so, I couldn't find a way to make my self happy. Every time I see that even one person read my blog my heart heals itself a little. Ever since I was really little I loved making people laugh, laughter is the best medicine. I don't have any other talents, I'm not skinny, pretty or tall enough to be a model, or smart enough to be a doctor, I'm not deligent enough to go to law school for a decade to become a lawyer. But...I am witty and funny enough to write some stupid, haphazard words down and present it in a way that will always get a laugh. And for me, that's worth it, that's my talent, that's my forte. When I was little and you asked my mom what her kids would grow up to be she would say my sister would be a lawyer, my brother would be an architect and I would be a comedian. At the time I was insulted, how could you think your daughter would ONLY be a comedian, but now my heart grows with joy as I finally realize that's what I want to do, I don't care if I make a dime off of that, or if my name is never a headliner of a comedy show, or if no one beyond my circle or friends and family reads my blog. I am doing my part in this universe by making people laugh. I always think about how my blog or my humor could change someone's mood, shift your thoughts from sad, depressing, heartbreaking thoughts to funny, uplifted moods because I made you laugh about a crooked penis. I always think that if someone made my brother laugh 8 years ago the day he was planning on committing suicide he may be here to enjoy my successes instead of me writing comedy to mask a crushed soul that was left behind from his decision to end his life. Comedy makes life seem more bearable for me, if I can make a joke out of it, it's not that bad. I lay in bed at night and rehearse my stand up act, and imagine how loud the audience will laugh at certain jokes, or I will look into the crowd and see someone wipe a tear from their face because they are laughing so hard, and in that 5 minutes I'm on stage I'm doing my part, I'm making people forget about their worries and their pain, in that moment I am sharing my comfort blanket of comedy with them. To anyone who thinks this is a dumb blog and that I'm wasting my time chasing a dream, or if you get annoyed that I blow up Facebook with this stuff, I just want to say go check yourself and your life out before you speak another word to me, what do you offer to this world to make it better? Be happy for me that I get to live out a childhood dream, some kids wanted to be superheroes, or race car drivers or astronauts, I wanted to make people laugh, be happy that I get to live out a life long dream in a simple, yet plausible manner. And I'm sorry I got real sappy on this, and I promise you I have a blog post about vagina doctors coming up real soon. As always, thanks to everyone who say things to me like 'Leanne, grow a pair, stop thinking you're not funny enough' you are the people who matter. As well, 6000 + blog views..boooo yaaaa!

'The shit my friends and family say', featuring guest writer Tyler Hubz

Hello ! Well I guess I should start by saying my name is Tyler and I am Leanne's cousin. I've known Leanne since I guess you could say her birth, weve always gotten along fairly well although you would never guess we're related. If we were walking down the street together and you saw us most would think were a couple of fuck tards who just got off shift at the recycling depot. Anyways the topic at hand today is gonna be hospitals. You see I recently had surgery at st.pauls hospital in Saskatoon Saskatchewan, that is where I live , and no I don't fuck my sister or cousins, I don't wear overalls or plaid shirts with cowboy boots, that shit only happens in the united states, saskatoon is a normal fuckin city ok? Anyway, back to the hospital, so I went in for surgery and anyone who has had surgery knows that you are not allowed to eat or drink anything for like 24 hours before your surgery, which I understand I guess. So I am waiting in a room on the second floor to go in for surgery and at this point its been what seems like a week I haven't eaten and Im fucking starving and thirsty to the point where the old man beside me with tubes keeping him alive is starting to look like a fucking turkey leg, but I know I can manage. So finally I get called to go up for surgery and they tell me to take the elevator to the 5th floor and they give me the directions. I get in the elevator press 5, the door closes, the elevator goes up, I reach floor 5 the ding goes off and the doors open. As soon as those doors open my immediate thought is " oh you dirty fucking cunts ". Those doors opened and I walked into willy wonkas fucking chocolate factory!!! There were vending machines with chips, cookies, sandwiches, fucking icecream, pop, juice, energy drinks, chocolate bars you name it and it was in a vending machine lining the hallway leading to the operating room check in area. Now Im not a genius or anything but Im pretty fuckin sure the guy who has the authority to make that judgement call was just being a fuckin dick face thinking he is funny!! Is it really necessary to have the west edmonton mall food court on a fuckin hospital floor full of people that haven't eaten in 24 hours and can't eat ? The worse part is that when you awake from surgey and 24 hours of not eating the bastards feed you a piece of stale fucking toast with crunchy peanut butter that started out as smooth peanut butter back in 1995. Thats pretty much all I gotta say about that bullshit, hope you enjoyed my miserable experience!

VLOG time...it's all about eyebrows!

Forgive me in this video, I'm a grumpy clam, and starting to get sick! Check out the youtube video at .... http://youtu.be/BjpEC-5d8DM

Autocorrect,you cock blocking son of a bitch.

As if being single isn't hard enough, us single people have to contend with many variables that keep us single. Such as, the friend in the club acting as a wing man/woman but really just complicates the situation and ends up ruining the chance of us single people getting it in that night. But now we have a new-aged cock blocking system that is sure to dry up a vagina or limp up a dick faster than you can press send on your cell phone. This cock blocking son of a bitch is.....auto correct. Technology has come a long way in the last 5 years, whoever invented auto correct and predictive text was both a genius and a royal ass hat all mixed into one human being. Way back yonder when you were dating or swooning someone you had to get out some ink and paper and write a love letter to your sweetheart and mail it off, and in 3 to 5 business days your cutie would receive this steaming hot letter full of cute poems, maybe a little taboo naughty talk, then in turn they would write down their feelings and send off their reply of written love whispers and the multiple paragraphs about how they long for your tender touch. Now, thanks to the easy access of email, Facebook, and texts we can send our filthy thoughts, needs and wants all over the damn place in a matter of seconds. But touchscreens and autocorrect combined with greasy Doritos fingers really put a damper on the mood. The lights are turned down low, your pants are on the ground next to your bed, you get out your phone and decide to text the man you've been swooning after. You type, 'baby, I long for your touch, I miss your breath down the back of my neck, I want you to lick my titties....' You press send, and just when it's too late and the little check mark indicating your message has been sent to the recipient, you realize, auto correct thinks it knows better and has changed all your words. Now my message says, 'Bobby, I long for your tongue, I miss your breasts down the back of my taint, I want you to lick my midgets....' Dude replies back saying 'first of all, my name isn't Bobby, it's Jacob, and I don't really feel comfortable with your love of men with breasts, and what exactly is a taint? And why do you have midgets?! They are people too, Leanne...they are not pets....I don't think we should see each other anymore....' Wellllll for fuck sakes autocorrect. You sure know how to make a penis invert don't you?!

Ever wonder why Santa's cheeks are red?

People who are counting down until Christmas need to simmer the fuck down. Santa would be disappointed in your behaviour. Santa is a distinguished man with a beard and most importantly a moustache, he doesn't want you worrying about Christmas until Movember is over, let's take the time to get excited about the glorious month of moustache rides, they provide great entertainment and are usually free! Unlike Christmas which costs people a ridiculous amount of money. So friends, count down til Movember! It's such a lovely month, men raise money for a great cause, women get facial hair tickling their inner thighs, and if you're lazy and don't want to shave either, your inner thighs can tickle his moustache back! It's so romantic! My fav part about Movember is how it's like playing a game of Russian roulette when you're single, you meet a guy with a stellar moustache and you don't know if he's participating in Movember or if he is just a creep with a dirty moustache that smells like a mixture of dried salami and a hooker named Brandie Alexis. I recently told someone who was talking about Christmas to calm down and put the count down to a halt and she threw an ounce of attitude towards me and said 'listen, Santa only comes once a year...' Bitch, have you seen Mrs. Claus' caboose? Baby got back, I doubt Santa only comes once a year *wink wink*. Why do you think Santa's cheeks are always so red? They are all chaffed from giving moustache rides during the month of Movember!

VLOG time

http://m.youtube.com/watch?feature=youtu.be&v=0T92RpfUZIU&desktop_uri=%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D0T92RpfUZIU%26feature%3Dyoutu.be

Lee's Lessons of Love Volume 2

I was asked if I could write a post about one solid piece of advice for people in relationships. I'm not sure why, seeing as I'm single as fackkkkk. But I guess I can spit some knowledge at you regardless. I'm going to start off by saying some simple things that will benefit your relationship. Ladies; always...and I mean always wash your hands after cutting up jalapeños, do not give your man a hand job after cutting up those spicy lil fuckers, he will greatly appreciate that, no one wants a burning penis. Also ladies, shave your legs above and beyond the knees sometimes, men like that. I recently described my legs as a 'mullet' to a friend, it's like smooth and then hairy, business then partyyyyyy starting from the ankles up. Men, your advice is simple, stop being fucking morons. Nah, I'm just kidding, send your girl some flowers to work...no don't bring them home and give them to her...bitches love to show off in front of other bitches, we want everyyyy other woman around us to know how great our man is. We are catty bitches, it's messed up, we know. But on to some real advice. This applies mostly to the ladies. When your man fucks up you usually send him to the couch to sleep. Don't do this. Remember when you were little and would get grounded and sent to your room, you'd be like hellllll yessss, I can sit in my room, away from my annoying siblings and play GameBoy alllll day and night. It's the exactttt same when you tell your significant other to sleep on the couch. It's not a punishment, the guy gets to watch sports all night, maybe rent a Debbie Does Dallas adult video, eat snacks, fart all over the place and live the good life. I speak from experience. Many years ago I lived with a boyfriend. I spent hours cooking an amazing meal, consisting of ribs, double baked stuffed potatoes, sautéed garlic green beans and...AND homemade funnel cake...his fav....and this chump came home from work like 3 hours late. I was livid. Instead of getting mad and telling him to sleep on the couch, I thought..I'm going to ruin his night...soooo what did I do. I turned up the heat in the apartment, pulled out 3 extra blankets out of the closet, put on super warm fuzzy clothing, and asked him if we could cuddle in bed. I wanted to make this so uncomfortable for him, it'd be uncomfortable for me too, but fuck it, a lesson needs to be taught. So we spooned...I was the big spoon,if I was the lil spoon he would be able to feel my ass with his pelvic area and that's unacceptable. So I spooned the shit out of him, it was about 120 degrees with the heat on, plus our body heat, and to top that off, I insisted we talk about our feelings, I asked him every annoying question a girl could, 'what should we name our kids, what's on your mind, name 11 things you love about me, lets talk about every little detail about our dream wedding, I think we should make a scrapbook, lets describe what every page will look like, can you tell me where every freckle I have on my body is? If not I will cry hysterically because that means you don't love me, I told him about the first time I got my period and what it was like to become a woman..' And I made sure every time I said anything I breathed my hot breath onto the back of his neck. Finally he broke down under the heat and pressure and said 'I'm sorry I was late, it'll never happen again....' Haaaaa. I win. But you know...I'm single, solo, alone, without a partner,sitting alone at weddings, don't get invites to couples dinner parties at friends houses, people trying to set me up with their crossed eyed cousin...so take this advice or leave it.

First VLOG

http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=_dwuLZd9rOk

Thank you for shopping at Walmart.....

Did you know at Walmart they sell opinions? Yea, I didn't know that either until I went there tonight to buy some stuff and got the opinion of some shit fuck who works on cash. All I know is she needs to have her ovaries scooped out because I can't live in a world with more people like her and she shouldnt procreate. Here's the situation, I go to Walmart to buy some red hair dye because my hair was fading into hooker territory. So I grab what I needed and proceeded to register 10. The chick starts ringing my stuff through and she says "I just don't really know if I'm sold on your hair colour, like red only looks good on a certain type of person you know?" Ohhhh hell mother fucking no. Okay bitch, I don't need opinions from some washed up piece of trash who has a busted up ombré style hair do, where your roots are brown as shit, and your tips are yellow like your teeth. But I stay angry inside, and just reply with "I'm truly sorry you feel that way...(I look at her name tag) Winter". Of course her name is Winter, why the fuck wouldn't it be? So she continues ringing my stuff through. "Ohhh I hate this chap stick, it tastes so weird." Wanna know what else tastes weird? All that herpes ridden dick you suck, since you have an outbreak on your upper lip. But I just stay silent, I can't waste my talented words on this bitch. I resist the urge to take her stupid baby blue vest and jersey her with it, just pull it over her head and sock her right in her mouth. But I can't risk the chance of getting the herp on my knuckles. She has one last thing to ring through, it was a notebook, there is nothing she can say about this. She probably doesn't even know what a notebook is since I highly doubt she went to school beyond daycare. I was wrong, she has a question regarding the note book. "So are you like in school or something?" I reply "Nope, I write down ideas I have for my blog and other writing projects when they come to mind." She says "oh....so you like write? What do you like write about?" I shallowly respond "People like you...situations like this." And she just makes some noise that resembles a hippo in heat and cashes me out and doesn't say another word to me. This isn't a smash on Walmart, I worked there for 3 years and it was hilarious as fuck and I worked with some smart, lovely, intelligent people. This is a smash on Winter, and her mother for naming her Winter, and Winter's green glittery eyeshadow and over plucked eye brows. I come to Walmart for your everyday low prices not the opinion of you or any other Customer Services Reps named after a season. Okay Winter?

27

Today I turned 27. It took me way too long to get out of bed today. Mostly because I was lazy, but also because my entire body needs a cracking. I'm only a day older than I was yesterday but it's like my body just knew that I am officially 27, and to me I may as well be 70. I spent 5 minutes plucking out grey eyebrow hairs. That's rubbish. My eye brows mean a lot to me, and it hurts me personally to see them be abused like that. I sneezed today and hurt my back, and possibly peed a bit, I'd say I peed my pants, but I wasn't wearing any...let's be honest with each other, I was dancing around singing Taylor Swift not wearing pants...and this is why you always make sure you knock and wait like 5 minutes after said knock before walking into my house otherwise we will both stand there embarrassed. I recently had a quarter life crisis and dyed my hair fairly vibrant red. I think it looks nice, there is a fair line between red tones, it can look hella fashionable or super Russian hooker-ish. I'm sitting riiiiight on that line, I'm one shampoo wash away from looking like a cheap hooker. Not a bad thing, maybe I can get paid to go on terrible dates that I go on!? Speaking of being single, I'm feeling a lot of pressure to settle down. I swear whenever I see my mom she just stares at my uterus and wonders why it hasn't been occupied with dozens of grand babies for her to love and kiss. Well mom, I like my vagina the way it is. It is pristine. I don't need some baby clawin it's way out just yet. A lot of my friends are married, soon to be married, and they talk about when they plan on having kids. Well fuck, you plan for that? I really just always assumed my kids would be a surprise and conceived while I was in a food coma after eating at the Mandarin or something. But it's become pretty apparent I will be that odd 'auntie' hanging out with these friends and their lil kids. They will have cute play dates at the park and I will show up hung over, ashamed, still in last nights clothes, the walk to the park will be my walk of shame. My friends will talk about all their mommy stuff, changing diapers and chapped nipples from breast feeding, and I will talk about the guy I met last night who has mommy issues and likes to play mommy and baby and he sucks his thumb after sex or something messed up. Yay growing up! Just a little experiment to this blog, I've had a few requests for me to do a few VLOGS as well for me to do some answer and question blogs, apparently people think it's funny for me to answer relationship, sex, or questions about my self. So I am willing to give er a try. If you have any questions about anything, just email them to leanne_45@hotmail.com or private message me on Facebook. Your questions will remain anonymous unless you specify and want to have your 15 mins of fame! Once I get enough questions I will write a blog with the responses and possibly do a VLOG :) hollllla.

It's not Thanksgiving but I'd like to give thanks...

This isn't going to be my typical blog. But I wanted to take the time to give a shout out to my friends! These ladies are some of the funniest bitches I know. Our love for gangsta rap at a wedding and popping asses and dropping it down low is very entertaining! My fav part of being on the dance floor at a wedding with these crazy ladies is when they look at me and say 'uhhh are you going to blog about this?'. I don't feel comfortable saying people's real names on here, only because I suspect I have some creeps that follow this and I don't need my friends getting scooped up and skinned by some homicidal maniac. But I want to give a shout out to, J-aka hun'reds on yo' tittys bitch. I greatly appreciate you playing gangsta rap at your wedding, especially when a wu-tang song comes on! B, Digz, S...you ladies kill it on the dance floor every time, you ladies make me laugh so hard, love you! To M aka baby momz, in your womb you are growing our lil group peanut! We are all excited to be aunties, and I suspect you will have lots of Wutang onesies for this lil one, I love you like a sister and I'm excited to see you with big ol pregnancy tittays lol. I need to give a shout out to my ladies' boyfriends and husbands, you guys are troopers tagging along with us gals to the dance floor, tearing shit up with us! A big shout out to K, he always tells me he reads this blog, and encourages me to make it more provocative. To A, every time I write a blog post I send it to you to make sure it's funny, you always make me laugh and you have never passed judgement on how messed up my mind is! Thanks for always being supportive and worrying if I got murdered if I don't reply to your text within 5 mins. I appreciate that you would always text me to tell me exactly how long it would take for you to come over to my house so I knew exactly when to put on pants! To Ernie, although you live very far away right now, I know our hearts will always be connected. I know recently we had some disputes about how you don't like chips, and I just can't comprehend that, but then I told you I like Darius Ruckers version of Wagon Wheel better than the original and I think you didn't talk to me for a few hours after that, but we still love each other! You always tell me the honest truth about things, and I love you for that! Thank you to my cousins who encourage me to keep writing these posts, and that offer to let me share some of their funny stories! I love you guys and have turned out to be this way because of our hilarious experiences together! I'd thank my sister, but she refuses to read this blog because she hates blogs, and she told me to write a book instead! But thanks to her anyway for excepting me for who I am! A big shout out to my brother, you were my other half when it comes to personality! You made me laugh harder than I ever have. Every time anything ridiculously funny happens I feel that you are up in heaven making this shit happen to me just so I can laugh a it! You found joy in making people laugh and smile, and I hope to continue on with that for you. The night you died I stayed up all night and watched Kings of Comedy, I knew you'd rather see me laughing than crying! To my Mom, I know you read this blog but never comment on it nor seem to pass judgement! The only thing she has said about it was, "I really didn't think you looked like a lesbian in that leather jacket, Leanne." Thanks for understanding that I'm weird, odd and foul. To my Dad...you better never see this because I demanded you never read it! Lol Thank you to everyone on Facebook who diligently shares my blog to their friends and family! I'm glad I have a hand full or two of people who read this blog and enjoy it! As cheesy as it sounds it makes me really happy when I get messages from you guys saying you we're having a bad day and my blog made you laugh! Thanks for laughing with me, and likely at me once or twice! Love, Leanne

McRevenge

There's only been a few people I have met that I have secretly put them in the 'must seek revenge on this shit head' list. Here is the story of two people on that list. I get in moods sometimes, where I am a raginggggg bitch. And I'm in the wrong for ever going out in public when I'm in that state of mind. But if someone does something tremendously dumb or annoying when I'm in a 'Leanne state of mind' mood they are doomed. So, a while back I was going to Toronto for the day and I was going to take the Greyhound there. I decided to stop by McDonald's for breakfast, to get a beloved BLT bagel. They are fucking delicious. In my mind I thought this BLT bagel would brighten my day, I envisioned, sitting there outside waiting for the bus, birds a chirping, sun a shining, just enjoying life. But nope, the fucktards who work at McDonald's fucked that up. I order my bagel, after like 5 minutes of waiting for the girl working there to even acknowledge me because she was too busy adjusting her hat she has to wear. Bitch, you're wearing a McDonald's uniform, you can only look so cute with that shit. So, finally, she puts the order in, and the greasy,pimply, pre pubescent moustache wearing kid walks from the back of the food prep area to the front where the overhead menu is and stares at the picture of what goes on the BLT bagel. You have to be fucking kidding me right? He legit stared at me for a solid minute. Goes to the back and asks another employee what goes on it. So he attempts to make it, I can see him making it and he is royally fucking it up. But I'm not going to correct him right now, I need to see where this goes, for entertainment purposes. So he finishes making the sandwich, his bimbo partner in crime puts the sandwich in the bag, but the turd in the back didn't wrap it properly so the bagel fell outta the wrap and into the brown paper bag. She pretends she didn't notice and hands me the bag. I stand there, arms crossed, bitch face on, eyebrows raised (perfectly plucked and filled in may I add, they really add to my bitch face) and I ask her to get the guy from the back so I can have a word with them. She stares at me in awe, and I say..go get your friend from the back so we can all have a chat. Soooo, she goes and gets him. And they stand there just marvelling in my ridiculousness, I say to them "okay..now...you both are going to try this again. BLT is a an acronym for what goes on it...bacon...lettuce....and tomato. Not the sausage, cheese, one tomato and a pickle or whatever you decided to put on it. So you will make that properly, and then you (looking at the girl) will package it properly, don't act like you didn't see the sandwich fall outta the wrapper into the bag. Just don't pretend. I saw...I'm not impressed." They both stare for a little too long, and go make me my BLT sandwich. He finally got it right..but really. How the fuck do you not know what goes on a damn BLT? So I finally make it to the Greyhound station and get on the bus, I have an hour bus ride to sit and plan my revenge on these two. This is how the revenge scenario plays out in my mind...these two will fall in love while salting fries at McDonald's, they will get married and in 10 years have a couple of kids. One of those kids will be a boy...and in 18 years he will be out under aged drinking at a pub with his friends, he will meet this smoking hot cougar (that'll be me) he will fall in love with her, despite the age difference. He will take me home to meet the family on Thanksgiving Day. His mom will be appalled by the age difference and that her son is dating an older lady. She will be traumatized by this. Just heart broken. She knows she wont have any grandbabies because my uterus and eggs are just dried up to all hell by now. She will take her anger out on her husband (the fucker who couldn't make a BLT) and their marriage will suffer. And I will turn to them, look them both in the face and say. "You fucked with my BLT bagel, now I'm fucking with your son. McRevenge fuckersssss!"

Let's take a moment to talk about some things....

There are way too many 'fads' out there that I can't really comprehend. Let's start off with twerking. This dance doesn't look sexy, appealing, cool, or interesting at all. To me, this dance move looks exactly how I look at 2 am when I get a crazy bad leg cramp while sleeping and trying to shake it off. Next fad, the belly top, the mid drift show-er, the muffin top exposer, the 'that's not a tattoo, it's just my stretch marks from being pregnant 4 times' fad. Who in their right fucking mind brought this into society? I understand some of these fads and fashion trends are created for the cat walk. And yes, it does look great on some people....but it's never those people that wear this mid drift showing shirt. Now, I think women of all shapes and sizes can be beautiful. That being said, I have a belly, and I know that this fad is not for my body type. I tried doing p90x ab workouts and I just looked like Chris Farley rolling around on the floor, sweating from places I didn't know could sweat. So, I cover up my gut, I'm not ashamed of it, I've invested a lot of time and money into eating Doritos to accomplish this glorious cushion of love. But no fucking way in hell will I wear a top that shows it off. But I've been seeing wayyyyyy too many ladies wearing these belly tops that shouldn't be. I'm very happy that you are confident with yourself. But if you are as beautiful and sexy as you think you are, you will be able to show this off while covered up a little bit more. Maybe it's our fault for calling it the belly top, that's kind of misleading, since you may be like ehhhh I gots me a nice belly, I can wear this shirt! We should've called it the 'only if you have a toned tight stomach shirt and are between the ages of 18 and 23' shirt. Okay, now that I've likely insulted one or two people reading this, let's move on to the last fad. I can not understand why people wear these thick, black framed glasses for fun. There is no prescription, you are wearing them because you think it's cool to wear spectacles. I have worn glasses since 4th grade I think. And it's terrible. What these hipsters who wear fashion glasses do not understand is what it's like to cut a 4 inch long slice out of your leg because you can't wear your glasses in the shower while you shave your legs. Or how when you do your makeup while blind because you can't do your eye makeup and wear glasses at the same time, and then you do your makeup, put on your glasses to find out that your eyebrows are penciled in so thick you look like an angry bird, and that you actually applied mascara to your upper lip and not your lower eyelash. Orr how about when you are trying to get sexy with a guy, and you're making out, things are getting hot and heavy and you get off the bed to take off your shirt, you also remove your glasses, leaving you pretty much legally blind then you go to sexually crawl onto the bed but you miss it by an inch because you cant fucking see anything, and now you are laying on the ground like a moron. Soooo hipsters, you still think it's cool to wear glasses? What's next wearing braces for fashion and not function, every hipster walking around with head gear, skinny jeans, a skateboard they don't know how to use and a band tshirt for a band they don't even know? Fuck right off hipsters, and you too Miley Cyrus for trying to make twerking cool, go on wit yo' pancake ass.

JiffyPop test of endurance

I have a very sure fire way to find out if things will work out with a guy when we first start to date. I like to call it the 'I can't fucking tolerate that...' motto. I have certain quirks about me, one of which being, I can't fucking tolerate the way people eat popcorn. So, on the first date I make sure we go to the movies, and get some popcorn, and if the guy eats it quietly, and properly he stands a chance. But. If the guy eats it like a hungry/horny lesbian eating a 6 pack of hard shell tacos from Taco Bell the date ends right then and there. I can't fucking tolerate someone who can't eat popcorn normally. Now, I have friends who say 'dude, it's not THAT big of a deal if someone can't eat popcorn quietly, that's no need to break up with them.' Excuse me? So when we are cuddling on the couch watching all day marathons of Golden Girls we can't eat popcorn because he chews it like a cow chews its damn cud, and I can't hear what Blanche is saying over his ignorant chewing, should we eat fig newtons instead? NO! I can't budge on that, I want to enjoy popcorn during movies and tv shows. It's a great snack. You can't replace popcorn as a movie snack, but you can replace the guy who you sit and watch movies with. And I've done it, I sat there and stared at a guy who ate his popcorn ignorantly during our first date, he likely thought I was just admiring how fucking adorable he was. But I was truly just waiting to see how long it would take for him to choke and die from hoofing in a popcorn kernel the wrong way. I wouldn't save him, that's his mothers fault for not teaching her kid to eat popcorn like a normal person. She put her son out in society without teaching him the basics. Not my issue. So we never had a 2nd date. And I hate it when bitches complain about shit their men do that drive them bat shit crazy. First thing I ask, 'welppp, did you know about this annoying trait when you first started dating? Yes, yes you did? And this is one of your 'I can't fucking tolerate that...' topics? And you chose to still date him? And now you can't even look at him without wanting to snap his neck and then spit on his corpse?' When this happens, you can't be mad at the guy anymore, you have to be mad at yourself. You made that decision to stay with a guy even though he does the very thing that makes you tick. I feel like I'm doing that guy a favour by cutting it off after the first popcorn eating disaster. I don't want to act like it doesn't bother me, or that he can learn how to eat it properly, and then he doesn't. And then 10 years down the road we will be having family game night, sitting around the table playing Monopoly. And he is chomping away on this delicious fresh popped buttery popcorn, and I fucking snap, and smash his face into the Monopoly board, and the little game pieces are jammed into his face, little hotels piercing through his eyelids, Monopoly money splattered with blood, the cheap silver Scottie Dog token staring at me with a look of fear in his eyes. My two little kids traumatized for life. And what if eating popcorn like that is an inherited trait!? And my kids eat it like that too. and I have to sit around listening to my family sitting around sounding like they are chewing on stones? I would surely have a mental breakdown! All because I didn't leave him after the fist date when I knew he ate popcorn like an ignorant heifer..That would be irresponsible. This is called the JiffyPop test of endurance, it can make or break a relationship.

Mall rats

Yesterday I went to the mall to look for a pair of heels for a few upcoming weddings I am attending. Now, I should have known this was a mistake, I hate the mall, I hate the mall right before school starts and the mall is infested with teenage shit heads. I walk into the mall and I kid you not it smells like teen spirit. There are teenagers every where and at the front entrance of the mall there is a group of 5 teenage boys who all look like Justin Bieber who yell out words like 'penis!'every time anyone walks by them. But I got really confused, I thought they were advertising a sale of penises. And I got really excited, thinking maybe the mall isn't so bad after all, I can just come here and buy a box of penises. But these kids were just liars and were not selling penises. As I look for some shoe stores I notice there are about a million teenage girls who all look identical. Every single one of them were wearing weeeee little jean cut off shorts and belly tops. This is how I know I am old, when I notice this trend and I'm appalled by it. I sound like an old lady when I just want to hiss at them 'where are your mothers!?" I sadly walk on by tender tootsies and just want to go in there and buy myself a nice pair of loafers to wear, I need comfort now not style. But I head on over to some fashionable shoe store and stare at my options of 7 inch hooker heels. When I finally find a pair I like, I quietly whisper to the store clerk "ummm, do you...umm, have these shoes in a uhhhhh ummmm, ahem....size 10?" Bitch responds "ohhhh Hun, I don't know if we have them in a size THAT big!" She pretends to go check but really just stands behind the counter texting her boyfriend talking about anal. I'm just guessing that part, but I'm pretty confident my guess is a reality. I don't even know this girl but I just hate her and her life for judging me and my big feet. Do you know what they say about girls with big feet? We like guys with big feet because they have big penises. Anywhoooo, I go to like 4 other shoe stores and face the judgemental stares of these whores who work there. One girl tried to be helpful and got me a few pairs of shoes that were size 10s all of which were flip flops or looked like crocs. Sooo, fuck this noise, fuck all you shoe stores for giving me a complex. I do what any normal female would do and go to the food court, because when clothes or shoes don't fit, food court Chinese food will always comfort me. I go to ManchuWok, I get me some noodles and veggies and a coke, and sit down to enjoy this meal. As I'm digging my way thru the noodles, I can feel someone staring at me. I look up and there is this teenage girl sitting alone just staring directly at me. I ignore it and continue to eat. Every time I look up, this girl is looking at me, I get uncomfortable because I likely look like a fool trying to eat my noodles. I instantly start to worry if I have something on my face, did I accidentally wipe off my eyebrow at some point in the day? Whyyyyy is she looking at me so intently, I don't even think she has blinked yet. I start to get enraged. I want to go confront her, but I give her a friendly wave instead. Maybe she knows me? Bitch doesn't even bat an eye when I wave! Now I'm riiiiight pissed off. I sit there just staring back now. 5 mins go by, she reaches in her purse to get something, all while still looking at me. I get kinda worried, what if she pulls out a gat and shoots the shit out of me? Nope, guess what she pulls out....a walking stick....you know the red and white ones THAT BLIND PEOPLE use?!? I was in a staring contest with a blind teenager, and she without a doubt won. Now I sit there, with cold Chinese food, feeling like a fucking prick. I felt like the biggest asshole ever, the only asshole that will be bigger then how I felt in that moment, is the actual asshole of that judgemental shoe store clerk after her boyfriend was done with her last night. I fucking hate the mall.

Prissy white bitches are the reason I stay home on Saturday nights.

There are two things I am sure of one being that I'm an asshole, there is no need to question that. And the other is that National Geographic needs to do a documentary of drunk white girls at the club.We went out last night to celebrate my friend's bachelorette party...at this point I would like to inform you that my iPad changes the word 'bachelorette' to 'nacho florets' which on it's own is epic. So I meet the crew at the bar, and I am dead sober. Biggest mistake EVER. There are way too many foolish drunk white people at this place for my mind to process. Yes, I am in fact white too, but there are a certain group of white people at this place. For example, the white girl dancing and trying her darnedest to recite the words to Nelly's 'Country Grammar'. I figure her up tight parents deprived her of listening to 'coloured people' music when she was in high school. So here she is, trying to lip sync the words but she has no fucking clue what the fuck is going on. But then something amazing happens right before my eyes, the Nelly song drops off and all of a sudden the twang of Miley Cyrus's voice penetrates this white girls ears and she fucking drops it like its hottttt. You could see the look of relief on her face, like thank the lorddddd, I know the words to this song! I've come to the conclusion white chicks love the song 'Shoop'. Myself included. When that beat drops it is nearly impossible to not start my flow off "here I go, here I go, here I go again...girls what's my weakness...MEN!" But when this jam starts to play, us pasty bitches just flock to the dance floor to show how cultured we are and to bust out our rap verses. 

I have found a new pet peeve while out last night...I'm not really sure why it bugs me, but it does. I saw way too many bitches walking around drinking wine. You're at a bar. Your wine comes from a box. And you are walking around like some uppity twat holding your glass of wine with your pinky finger in the air. Do you think this makes you look sophisticated? Like you will attract the attention of a millionaire? He will think to him self "oh wow, look at that intelligent woman with a blossoming personality drinking that very earthy wine. I may just gallivant on over to her and talk about the wine, discuss the levels of acidity and inquire whether or not it would pair well with Brie cheese. Then I will take her home to my loft apartment and have missionary intercourse with her, and afterwards we will snuggle and I will caress her silky blond hair, and in the morning I will wake up early and make her a quiche for brunch and I will accompany that quiche with a glorious mixed green salad. Then I will marry her, and we will have 2 kids together. All because she drinks wine at a bar  
and that is ever so appealing". BITCH that shit will never happen, drink a fucking beer like everyone else at the bar. God fucking damnit. 

I should not be allowed out in public. 

BlogThis! Thursday, August 15, 2013 I'm in an abusive relationship....with my uterus. My uterus is angry today. She didn't even want me to write in the blog today, I had to bribe her with a white chocolate Kit Kat for her to be distracted long enough for me to write this. Why hasn't anyone invented chocolate covered Midol yet? When my uterus is mad like this I envision her as an angry Spanish woman, I don't know why but thats how her personality is. I just picture my uterus saying in her spicy Spanish accent, "ohhhh I see, me and your auntie Ovary make you nice eggs and you no want? Ohhhh I see señorita, you're too important to fertilize this egg we give to you, as a gift?! Ahhhh I see chola, you're better than everyone else? Que no me amas?" I try to make her happy, I give her chocolate, and anything she needs to get her thru this tough time. But she is still a raging bitch. She also faxes over memos to my other body parts and says shit like; "okay team, it's that time of month again, you remember your duties? Head, remember to produce blinding headaches so Leanne can't think properly and in turn she will say stupider shit than she normally does and people will just think she is suffering small strokes. Boobs, plump up real nice okay? So big that she can only wear a ratty old sports bra. Face, you have a very important role in ruining Leanne's life...start placing those pimples all over her face. But make sure they never turn into white heads and Leanne can't pop them, but we all know she will try anyway and then have massive dry scabs for at least a week. Last but not least, Vagina....now you're going to feel left out here, but you play an important role....you're going to feel the dire need to befriend a penis, but you can't, because you will be all bunged up with a tampon, so hang tight for the week. Okay team, get out there and really fuck up Leanne's life. Sincerely, your co-conspirator, Uterus"   The chocolate is wearing off...I have to go before she gets angrier. She scares me. (To any creative minds out there who noticed her fax message wasn't representing her Spanish heritage...this is intentional. She was writing a formal business memo. Just because she is Spanish doesn't mean she has to speak ghetto Spanish all the time. Don't be such a stereotypical jerk) Wednesday, August 14, 2013 A Mother's love My mom is a kind hearted person, very loving, understanding and has sure put up with a lot of my antics over the years. Although she is a lovely person that kinda shit doesn't get ratings with my fan base, so here is a story about the one and only time my Mother has lied to me. Years ago my Mom, sister and I went to the US to go on a girl's shopping trip. We ended up at Burlington Coat Factory and I came across this wicked awesome "leather" bomber jacket. I turned to my Ma and said "Be completely honest, does this jacket make me look like a butchy lesbian?" My mom looked me dead in the eyes and said "No, it looks great!" I was thinking to myself, hellll yes I look like a bad ass chick with my new digs. On the Monday morning I get dressed, and decided it was slightly nippy out so I would wear my new fierce jacket, show the world how fashion forward I am. I get my stuff for school and head to the subway station. As I am waiting on the platform for the train a lady wearing a ripped up jean jacket, combat boots, a nose ring on both sides of her nostrils and a bleached blond pixie cut approaches me and asks me for my number. Right then and there I realized my sweet,innocent Mother lied to me. She sent me out in this scary world to get bum rushed by lesbians. She will never admit that she did this on purpose. But I know she did it to get back at me for the shit I pulled in my teenage years! So, here I stand face to face with this woman, who wants to enjoy the all you can eat Taco Monday special. I politely tell her I am flattered but I am in fact straight....despite what my butchy leather jacket insinuates....she stared me down, eye fucked the shit outta me for about 42.7 seconds and went on her way. A week later, I wore the jacket again because it was cold out and I didn't have too many other options. Guess who hits on me at Starbucks? A lady! There is nothing wrong with being gay, or lesbian. It is a lovely thing, but for me I know that 100% I am a straight female. If I still am attracted to men after seeing a 3 inch penis, then I know I am a die hard wiener fan. And it is a factoid that pink does not look good on me, this is including and not limited to a pink vagina being on me. I also know that this jacket is without a doubt a pussy magnet and that my Mother did in fact lie to me. Tuesday, August 13, 2013 ..and this lil piggy went wee wee wee allll the way home! If you are my Mother or Father...look away...do NOT proceed with this tidbit......I am way too old to get grounded......I'm sorry..I know...I can feel you just dying of embarrassment Mom...I get it...please don't yell...I love you. Everyone else...enjoy :)  I have come to the conclusion that I hit my "peak" far too early in life when it comes to men. When I was in my teenage years I had so much penis thrown at me I didn't know what to do with it...literally...I had no idea what to do with it. Now, the only time a penis has been thrown in my direction lately was when my ex boyfriend got out of the shower and came at me with his flaccid penis yelling "look at the lil piggy". Mind you it did look like a lil pig's nose indeed, I give him extra points for the creativity. But sweet Jesus, really?! I don't really even know where this blog post is going, so I'm just going to leave you with the image of a flaccid penis engraved in your mind. You're welcome. Monday, August 12, 2013 This PSA is brought to you by.... I had a few ideas for my next blog entry until I saw a few things today that set me riiiiight off and I had to interrupt my thought process because people are fucking idiots. This one is for a specific group of ladies. I'm going to call them the "no flush crew". These disgusting twats insist on not flushing the toilets in public washrooms. I have seen WAY too much human excrement to last me a life time of disgust. Every time I went to the washroom at work today I saw the taggings of the "no flush crew" I've narrowed it down to two motives of why these heffers do such a thing. First off we have the sows  who leave bloody tampons in the toilet. My guess is they are so fucking excited that they got their periods after that pregnancy scare after her one night stand with Pablo in the Taco Bell employee washroom, that she decides to leave the evidence of her menstrual cycle in the toilet for all to see! Bitch....high five your self that you dodged the pregnancy bullet once again this month. Pat your self on the back that the pull out method didn't fail you, dont leave that filth in the toilet for the next poor soul to see. Secondly, the "ladies" who like to leave the turd floaters behind. I'm guessing this is a pride thing. You are so proud of your super duper log that you just have to share it with your co-workers. Did you think we would marvel in this? That we would consider you a goddess that your anus can stretch to an ungodly size to get that thing out of your body? You were wrong...no one wants to see that shit..literally. If you are so proud of it, own up to it, take a picture and put that on Instagram, throw a filter on that, put a frame around it, maybe throw some text on er. You bitches that do this kinda stuff are just wrong, dead wrong. Stop it. Stop making me interrupt my daily blog programming to give you this public service announcement. Ya dig?! Sunday, August 11, 2013 3 inches of vengeance There are 3 things that are all 3 inches long that have come WAY to close too my body and they have all traumatized me. 1) small Asian penis 2) the claws of a peacock (I got attacked by one years ago and I have a scar to prove it and 3) a centipede. I'm going to tell you about number 3... Let me set the mood here for you....it was a lonely Saturday evening, I decided to have a glorious bubble bath. Lit some candles, got out my iPad, loaded up Songza, chose a play list, likely something called '26 and single on a Saturday night...' I let the bath run, poured in some vanilla liquid soap, which was from the dollar store...I spare no expense when it comes to alone time....I slowly sink into the warm water. I lather up my right arm pit, and start to shave the grasslands that have formed...when all of a sudden a centipede fucking slithers out of the overflow drain....slitherssssss I say! My exact words as I vaulted out of the bath tub were 'holy sweet mother of fucking Christ....' I have never moved so quickly, my cardio for the week was complete after that mad dash out of the tub. As I stand there naked, I get my iPad and Google 'can centipedes swim?' The answer was no, so I decided to let that fucker drown, keep him in the tub for a few days as a warning to any other critters that wanna try to watch me bathe. Needless to say, this traumatized me, I refused to have a bath or shower for much longer than I care to admit, I walked around with one half shaved armpit for a week at least.  I will never be the same, having a 3 inch centipede that close to my vagina has traumatized me, much like the Asian penis did.... Everyone poops.... It's pretty apparent that I am single. It will be very apparent why I am single after this post. I would like to offer a public service announcement to people starting a relationship or in a new relationship, hell maybe it even applies to people who are in non-open minded relationships. Ok, here it goes. I'm going to talk about poop. I understand people don't really think poop and relationship talks go together. But hear me out. Okay guys, you know how women always order a light salad on your first dates? Well it's not because they are concerned about their waist lines, it's because they don't want to take the chance of ordering a creamy, cheese covered pasta entree and have to shit instantly on your first date. Years ago I was dating my first love, we spent every moment we possibly could together. But if we were together for 24 hours a day, how could I find time to drop a deuce without ruining the chance of him ever getting an erection around me again?! So I would pretend to have a shower but I would just take a quick poop then just wet my hair so it looked like I took a shower. There would be days I would have to poop sooooo badly I would have the sweats going on, I felt like I may throw up. And all he wanted to do was cuddle and I just wanted to cry from the gas bubbles polluting my insides. So finally, I couldn't take it, it was go time. I looked him right in his big brown eyes and said 'Baby, you love me unconditionally right?" Of course he responded with a yes, but he look scared and worried and asked 'Is everything okay? Did you...did you cheat on me or something?' At this point I was even paler than I normally am, ready to puke and poop all at the same time from the pressure happening in my body. I very slowly said "No...babe...I didn't cheat...but...buttt...well you know....I...umm...I have to poop...I poop, I don't know if you know that girls poop...but I need to...and I feel like I may die right now....so...." He looked at me like I was a fucking moron, he literally patted my head and said "You're so special, go poop babe.' I skipped to the bathroom and as I pooped I felt such a relief, not just in my bowels, but in my relationship...I could be comfortable around him and not have to worry about that part of life. Now, in the first couple weeks of relationships I give the guy the "Everyone Poops" book that parents read to their kids about pooping and potty training. And I have the talk with them, girls poop, so deal with it. So yea...I'm still single..... Saturday, August 10, 2013 Lee's lessons of love. Volume 1 I am without a doubt the worst person to offer anyone relationship advice. I date guys who are so young they don't know the movie 'Clueless', so young they still have a hangover from their 19th birthday, which was likely the day before, I find men attractive who have stutters because when we fight it takes him so long to get out his argument that I win every fight because his opinions are incomplete therefore invalid, I date men with a lack of personality because there is no way I can date a guy who will outshine me but then I get bored with them. I always think I want a serious relationship but then I forget that with a serious relationship comes compromise and understanding, two things I don't fully comprehend. How can I date someone and let them use my good towels when they dry off their filthy hooves, or let them drool all over my comfy pillows which each have their very own designated spot in my perfectly arranged OCD bed? Although I am obnoxiously impossible and stubborn, I find the joy and love in the simplest of things when it comes to relationships. I doubted that love was real for awhile, that it was a fictitious emotion or event in one's life. Until the simplest moment happened many months back. I was dating a guy, things were good, but he was the type of guy to come over unannounced. I don't do well with that concept, at all. So there I am sitting on my couch, pantless (if I'm home alone pants are never apart of the equation), I'm watching Discovery Channel, I was really into the documentary on poisonous frogs, I was elbow deep into a bag of zesty Doritos, no makeup, nappy pony tail sprawled out on the top of my head, when all of a sudden my door opens and my boyfriend of like 2 weeks frolics in and stares at me. I sit there dumb-founded, super embarrassed covered in Dorito dust, looking like honey boo boo's mom. I wanted to die, the golden rule is you do notttt let the guy you are just starting to date see you in such a ridiculous state. Too make it worse, I'm pale as fuck so when I blush, this paper white powdery skin glows like a neon sign outside of a rub n tug. What happens next was the most romantic thing ever, this action made me think true love does exist....this guy takes off his pants, plops down next to me grabs the bag of chips, grabs the biggest,sloppiest handful of delicious Doritos and gives er hell. We enjoyed this special moment...pantless, covered in the glorious crumbles of artificial cheese flavoured corn chips. That right there kids is what you don't read about in Disney stories, but that, that is love. Friday, August 9, 2013 And then there were 8! I had a decent sleep, woke up to the birds chirping and the sun shining. I crawl out of bed at 5:50 am, go to the bathroom to wash my face; may I add that this face is full of acne because it can't make up its mind if I'm young enough to still have acne or old enough to have crow's feet, anywhoooo, I wash my face, and apply a moisturizer and look at the mirror and notice 2 of my super sassy fly ass press on nails are missing! I dig thru my makeup bag and find some extras and sit there on the toilet and glue them on so I don't look like too much of a hood rat walking around with 8 fabulous nails and 2 stank ass looking nails. I go on a mission to find the 2 nails that fell off in my sleep. I look every where, they weren't anywhere in my bed or surrounding area. I shrug it off and rehearse what I would say to a male sleep over buddy if he randomly found it in my bed at a later date. I go back to the bathroom and do my makeup and attempt to brush my hair. Now, for anyone who doesn't know me or doesn't know much about me. My hair is a nappy, tangly, matted to all hell and a bitch to brush, so I take the chump's way out and just don't brush it. But...today is Friday so I'm gonna go all out and brush at least the top layer. In the midst of brushing this rat's nest I hear a cling clang in the sink..I look down and what do I see? A matted black with gold tip super sassy hellllla fly press on nail! My fucking hair ate it in my sleep! My hair is always consuming things, it's like it likes to hoard objects! So if one was in there, the other one was in there too! If there is one thing I know about my hair, it likes to collect things in pairs-like it is Noah's Ark or some shit. I dig thru the nap to find the buried treasure and sure enough, there it was, the second nail! Keep it classy bitches. Thursday, August 8, 2013 By popular demand...a pic of my ghetto fab press on nails! All the single ladies.... I don't really know how Beyonce thinks she has the right to make a song about single ladies, and make it empowering and enchanting like it's a fucking victory being single. No where in her song does she talk about how slim your pickings are if you are a single lady nearing your 30s. Let me tell you the sad reality which is my life. The men I get hit on by typically have some mysterious stain on their shirts, let's categorize that by putting it in the 'blatant disregard for hygiene' category. The next most common trait...men with not a damn tooth in their mouth. Is it worth it for me to take this toothless bird under my wing and put him on my benefits package and get him a grill? Am I getting that desperate? Men in wheelchairs adore me, now this isn't that big of a deal. Dating a man in a wheelchair isn't so bad...when we fight and he tries to stroll away, I can just put a stick in his wheel and yell "WHERE YOU GOING huh?" I will win every fight. So we can look at that as an advantage. Now let's talk about past dates I've been on. *If you are my Mother or Father please skip this section, pretend like this is a choose your own adventure book and you just skip to the next paragraph*. Years ago I went on a date with a very handsome man, a tattoo artist. Funny guy, charming, just enough sass to keep me on my toes. We go for a date at a local pub and order wings, we decide on getting a mix of hot and suicide wings. Dude proceeds to tell me he likes it when a girl eats hot sauce then sucks his man parts. He said it added 'a flare'. What.the.fuck. Why would anyone disrespect Franks Red Hot sauce like that? Bitch, I DO NOT put that shit on everything including your god damn dick. Okay, on to a more recent date. This very nerdy man asked me out on a date, at the time he asked me out he was paying me for my services....noooo, I'm not a hooker, he was paying for his meal at the restaurant I used to work at. So he was paying, and he was at the 'tip amount' screen of the debit payment....wellll fuck, I can't say no or he will tip me terribly. So, I agree to go on the date with this lil hermit. Days later we meet up for a coffee, he paid for it, so that's nice to get a free coffee. I'd like to start off by saying he is a very nice, funny, insanely intelligent mechanical engineer....I'd like to continue on by saying he had THE smallest girl hands I've ever seen. The chances of him having a big ol penis was slim to none, realistically. The thought of his petite hands feeling me up made my vagina close right up like a Venus flytrap. How can someone with such small hands even get the full effect of my obnoxiously large white girl ass? So, that being said, I ended the date with a 'I will keep in touch...' Moral of the story is, fuck you Beyonce....don't glamour the idea of being a single lady. It's not all 'oooo oo ooooo now put yo' hands uppppp' for us single bitches. The reality is we sit in the corner with our bag of Cool Ranch Doritos and try not to cry at the thought of the men we are left to choose from. As I am... For years friends and family have marvelled in the ridiculousness that is my life. Now, I will share it with the world! I sit here telling myself I will not have regrets about what I blog about, but so far I have one small regret...why the hell did I decide to blog the day after I had a hood rat moment and applied press on nails?! Yea, I said it, press on nails...but they are matted black with gold tips, my inner Shanniqua couldn't resist the temptation. For those of you who have me on Facebook know that my inner Shanniqua is mourning the loss of my black BabyPhat purse whose strap broke recently. Since I don't have the money to purchase a new weave to please Shanniqua, a set of $11.99 ghetto certified press on nails will have to do. That being said they are a bitch to type with! I'd like to start off by stating a disclaimer or two about this blog, if I offend you I'm sorry (and by 'sorry' I do mean that I'm sorry your opinion isn't welcome here), if you see a story on here that you question may or may not be about you...well it probably is, and if you think about suing me...best of luck to ya, the only valuable things I have in my possession are my 18" nappy hair extensions, passwords to numerous porn sites, and 14 different makeup products to create the fiercest eyebrows ever. This blog will contain my opinions, stories, rants, hopes, dreams, and the obnoxious thoughts that swim around in my brain! To my friends and family, this is for you and your entertainment! Most of you have listened to my comedic styles for years, if not decades! I hope this blog provides you with the Leanneisms you need to live a happy and fulfilled life. To my mother, I apologize. I know when you first held me as a new born baby fresh from your womb you didn't envision your little baby girl having the personality of a drunken truck driver, for that I am sorry. I would like to thank you for not letting me listen to Alanis Morrisette when I was younger because she was 'too foul', it was at that moment I searched for other music and I discovered Wutang Clan who taught me more swear words than Alanis ever could.  My vocabulary blossomed. To the hipsters of the world, who think it's cool to wear tacky reading glasses. Where the fuck were you when I was 11, an insecure preteen who had to wear glasses because I was blind as shit? Why didn't you make it cool back then? Huh?! To the Universe, thank you for always sending the weirdest human beings in my direction. I always have something to laugh about, and to now blog about. Keep those freaks coming my way! As for the youngin's and the sensitive bitches out there, this will be an uncensored blog with grown up tales, you have been warned! That being said, I am off to start writing blog entries! Subscribe to: Posts (Atom) Blog Archive ▼  2013 (36) ►  August (16) ►  Aug 08 (3) As I am... All the single ladies.... By popular demand...a pic of my ghetto fab press... ►  Aug 09 (1) And then there were 8! ►  Aug 10 (1) Lee's lessons of love. 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'The shit my friends and family say...' Featuring ... ►  Oct 28 (1) I don't like it when you talk while looking at my ... ►  Oct 29 (2) If only life lessons were taught like they were sh... If I don't live through the night.... ►  Oct 30 (1) The day we were no longer virgins...she said VS. H... ▼  November (4) ►  Nov 02 (1) My name is Leanne, I am 27, a single white female,... ►  Nov 06 (1) Cashew dick ►  Nov 08 (1) The shit my friends and family say...featuring gue... ▼  Nov 14 (1) Dreams really do come true. Not just at Disney...s... ►  2014 (8) ►  January (5) ►  Jan 02 (1) ►  Jan 04 (1) ►  Jan 12 (1) ►  Jan 20 (1) ►  Jan 21 (1) ►  February (1) ►  Feb 14 (1) ►  March (2) ►  Mar 20 (1) ►  Mar 26 (1) ►  2015 (1) ►  February (1) ►  Feb 14 (1) Total Pageviews Popular Posts Prissy white bitches are the reason I stay home on Saturday nights. There are two things I am sure of one being that I'm an asshole, there is no need to question that. And the other is that National Geog... This PSA is brought to you by.... I had a few ideas for my next blog entry until I saw a few things today that set me riiiiight off and I had to interrupt my thought process ... Thank you for shopping at Walmart..... Did you know at Walmart they sell opinions? Yea, I didn't know that either until I went there tonight to buy some stuff and got the opin... 3 inches of vengeance There are 3 things that are all 3 inches long that have come WAY to close too my body and they have all traumatized me. 1) small Asian penis... The day we were no longer virgins...she said VS. He said This is going to come as a surprise to some of you, but I am not a virgin. I know right? I just blew your minds.I thought it would be intere... Da Baby Boom of 2014! It seems like this long, cold winter has caused quite the baby boom, it seems as though everyone has had a baby or is pregnant. I guess that... Autocorrect,you cock blocking son of a bitch. As if being single isn't hard enough, us single people have to contend with many variables that keep us single. Such as, the friend in t... I'm in an abusive relationship....with my uterus. My uterus is angry today. She didn't even want me to write in the blog today, I had to bribe her with a white chocolate Kit Kat for her ... Wax on, wax off. One of the many trials and tribulations of being a woman is that we need to make the decision on how our vagina looks. Do we want it to be n... A Mother's love My mom is a kind hearted person, very loving, understanding and has sure put up with a lot of my antics over the years. Although she is a lo... Followers Powered by Blogger.