#2019 assholes!

We made it through another year.

I find it funny, that I survived the past year without the help of yet another self help book.

Have you read "The Subtle Art of not Giving a Fuck"?

\Yeah, well, I read it and can tell you, it is full of old shit that is not news to anyone.

He is clever with prose, I will give Manson that, but his stories are not quite accurate and more to the point of being bullshit he concocted to fit his agenda.

The hippie Suzuki? Really?

The musicians dumped before a record deal> Did he talk to those fuckers?

Dude, love the writing. You are a brilliant storyteller, but a self-help guru? NOT!! AT FUCKING ALL!

For those of us already self-aware, we flip through the mundane and over y used shit.

You can read his shit at markmanson.com...OOP, sorry, the sad fucker is a .net dude.

And no doubt some will call me out on my critique and assume I am jealous, but that just makes me laugh now that I read the book!


The Blonde finds all self-help books do one thing...help the author make money, and do nothing but distract and annoy the dumb asses who read it!



Unhealthy Relationhips

I use to say, sign me up.

But I have learned the hardest thing to do in one's life is to leave the comfort zone.

This means you leave the ground underneath you, you yank the roots which grounded you, and you turn on the people who thought loved you but understand they only had a vested interest in keeping you down.

But if you can stand the fear, the backlash, and loneliness for a bit...than you will have wings to go any where you want.

I will explain more later...but there is more love than you can imagine beyond that comfort zone.

Especially when your comfort zone was some fucked up shit.


Light a Candle

When shit creeps in, light a proverbial candle.

This one is my favorite.

The Blonde says, Amen.

Doc Pothead was right about one thing

Oh fuck, I cant't remember.

I do know, I listened to this after it:

The Blonde lives with regrets every day.

Don't Mind Fuck Me

Never try to date a psychiatrist if you have skeletons in the closet.

I have washed most of my life's history away.

Why do I need someone to try and bring it up again?

I think my Dad agrees with me.

After hanging up with the Hack Doctor, I went to the bathroom and switched the light on.

All 4 bulbs from the chandelier blew.

Not just burned out, but actually blew and popped and sparked.

I got it Daddy, no more guys that mind fuck me.

No more bringing up things in the past that will not help my future.

The Blonde hears you loud and clear!

P.S. Thank you...no dark roads for me any more.

Cuffing? Seriously Match?

I have a love/hate relationship with Match.

Mostly hate Match because of the guys but love Match because of the stories I get to write about the guys.

So thank you.
Still not giving you free ads, biatch.

So this time is purely for enjoyment and stories.

So let's get into it:

Right off the bat, met up with married men who lies like an Aubusson rug at Saks.

Smooth as silk, but lit with a match would have a stench.

This guy was not worth a match, his carpet is made of polyester and he melted under all his lies.

Do I feel sorry for his wife? No, it is not like she is my friend. I could care less.

Will I see this dude again?

The question mark was sarcasm.

But if you are in for some really incredible golf clubs...this guy hand makes them out of a small warehouse here in lil' ole Texas.

I have more stories, like the super-stoned psychiatrist with a successful family mental health practice.

Stay tuned!!

The Blonde is back on Match!


The Interview of Your Life

You got it!

You got that interview that you have worked all your life for.

Your head starts spinning in only one direction....

The presentation.

Not only a presentation, but the presentation that will nail it.

At this moment, you feel like a gambler with the winning hand.

You are placing all bets and calling.

And you have no idea what the other cards are.

At this moment, it is perfect.

Almost, so perfect you don't want the interview, because at this moment life feels too good.

And if that contract does not come through, you lost your life savings on one bet.

Just the fact I got the invited to the table means I did something right in my career.

And I am not leaving the fucking table.

I worked too had to get here.

The Blonde calls!!

Double fist down!

I am posting a lot.

Somethin' is coming....

Calm the fuck down. 

I know what you were thinking! 

Don't get all citizen moron on me and call 911! 

The Blonde is busy with Xmas shit. 

I really hope the gov't figures out how to take guns away from provincial understudies of the world.

Oh, duh...the gov't is mostly made up of provincial understudies. 

The Blonde says, "Yeah we, are fucked"

Date: Have you thought about bigger breasts?

Me: No, have you thought about a bigger dick?


The Blonde

Do You Kill the Cat Before Christmas? Or wait?

Once upon a time, there was this young tuxedo cat named Lola

She could scale walls and dance on rooftops with very little effort. She took great pride in her fanciful, feline maneuvers.

20 years later ....

The princess of prowling walks across the ledge forgetting her legs don't pirouette like a Bolshoi ballerina any more.

So, on the corner ledge, 3 stories up from the pool. there she sits crying and looking for the screen to magically open up.

Her Mother finds her and ponders leaving her there or calling the fire department.

After a long pause and high pitched mew sounding more urgent than ever, the Mother is rushed to a decision and finds the best course of action is to cut through the window screen and pull in the damsel in distress.

Let it be said....

Lola better be asking Santa Paws for a new 60 x 36 screen with a white aluminum frame, or she will be getting coal in her stocking.

The Blonde is over kitty litter!

Worst Date Ever?


Not nearly.

Many dates have wrecked off this Blonde's shore over the past three decades—so many, in fact, that I have built a blog of all the ships that have sailed. So many, that this damsel gets tired of writing about them and comes up with other stories to amuse herself while on this isolated island.

This last one was a psychiatrist with a successful family mental health practice.

His kid is 17, quit school because he does not like it, and Daddy said OK.

Daddy Psychologist is a pot head.  He deals with other people's shit all day, that he has no time to deal with his own kid. His kid is also a pothead. Duh

But I jumped ahead.

We chose a date and time to meet, I called Lyft-because Uber is a dick- and just as I texted him, I am on my way, he asks if we can delay the date because his fucking football game is in over-time.


I get it, this is Texas..I am not a bitch and get the passion. So I say, fuck the restaurant, and will meet you at the bar.

I meet him at the sports bar, and he is loaded to the gills. He had been vaping since 4:20 my friends.

Still cool about the shit, because I wanted to see the Turnpike Troubadours, and it was a sold out show.

I know, fuck you...if you heard the Turnpike Troubadors live, you would put up with a little shit too.

Well, I was cool until Dr. Psych started baa-ing like a sheep really loudly. I think he was trying to shout "YEAH"", but it came out "BAHHH".

At that point, I had to leave.

A shit load of cowboys were looking his way and I didn't need to be in the way.

The Blonde went home with a Lyft.