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?

Sincerely,

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?

Haa,

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.

OK

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.

You are Fundamentally Failing

We all are.

Because we have grown so complacent and used to being selfish, that we can not see the bigger picture.

I realize this seems hypocritical coming from the dark side of the blonde.

But there is a better me. It is just not shown on this blog.

This blog still believes in killing ugly and stupid babies.

But more later, I have another date to crush.

The Blonde is off to slay another heart!