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!