I love You With All My Boobs. I Would Say My Heart But Let’s Face It, My Boobs Are Bigger

boob juan loveYou know that tingly feeling you get when you start to fall in woo with someone? That is common sense leaving your body.


Love can be so bloody complicated.  It isn’t easy finding someone simpatico in aligning both your heart and vaginal needs. You think it’s easy finding someone that adores me as much as I adore myself?  Believe me if I could run on the beach into my own arms I would. 

love waitRecently my dating landscape changed following a yummy bangover session this past weekend with Ryker. Laying on top of him in the dark our lips touching, his penis still inside me he whispers, “I love you, Kat.”

gulp wow

For a few minutes I didn’t make a sound.  I just laid there blankly looking into the darkness of the room, then to the sky hoping for incoming asteroid to hit.  Finally…..

Me:  (Gulp)  Aww… baby.  That is so sweet.  Hey, did I turn off the oven?  I better go check.

So I won’t be working for Hallmark anytime soon.  This we know.   The funny thing is, I knew he was going to say “it” that night.  For the past few weeks he has been looking at me the same way that I look at bacon.  We have also hit our four month dating marker.   It is typical dude code to wait three – four months before proclaiming undying love.  Five months is anal.

text warningThere are so many ways a fella can let his woman know how much he cares.  And if the past 20 years of sucking ball sacks have taught me nothing else, it is that sometimes men say “I love you”  when they actually mean, “I think you’re wonderful.” Or, “right this minute I would trust you not to kill my cat”, or maybe they are really digging the blow job of the moment.   They not  MAY NOT FEEL THAT WAY A FEW HOURS LATER.  I never fault them for it.   I just look to see how often they say it out of the bedroom or when sober.   


Saying I love you for the first time is like making hard-boiled eggs and dating 18-year-olds, it requires delicate timing.  Too late and your eggs are hard as rocks, too soon and you’re arrested for statutory rape. 

kat litter poo poo trainingBefore I say “I love you” to a gent I make it a rule to ask myself… “Can I poop when I’m over at his house yet?” (Please note that this rule has been field-tested for accuracy.) A guy may *think* he loves me after month three, but no dude should make that kind of statement until after he’s experienced the freshly scented aroma of one of my poo poo bombs or has a night of cleaning vodka & semen vomit out of my hair. 

It isn’t like I’m not falling in love with Ryker.  I have taken to him like a back alley hooker takes to crack and a “he don’t look sick” attitude.   Don’t get me wrong, I can be romantic as the next gal in sharing my heart.  When I fall in love I am loyal, compassionate, deeply devoted and altruistic.   

blog snark

It is more that I am cautious in the initial stages of a relationship.  So my mouth tends to lag behind my heart in making those types of declarations of woo.  I remember the first time my ex-beau Jake told me that he loved me.  I had just moved back to Cleveland from NYC and wasn’t ready for a relationship yet. We had just came back from a romantic dinner when he gazed lovingly in my eyes and said:  “Every time we have an opportunity to spend time together, I am drawn to you even more. I have a feeling I’m falling in love with you.”  I replied with:  “Maybe it’s gas?”

what do you think

I know.  How Juan Pablo of me.

juan winkingWho is Juan Pablo you ask? 

For those of you without cable, internet access or a bucket to vomit in take note:  For over a decade ABC’s The Bachelor has carved a tradition in bringing love to the masses of chiseled Ken dolls and silicone beauties with the sentient of a bottle of a Massengill douche. 

juan mr bonersIn it’s 1,985th season, it awarded Juan Pablo Galavis, (a former Venezuelan soccer player with the charm and personality of armpit dandruff) the coveted title of “Main Dick Gravy Specimen.”

bachelor roseEverything about THE BACHELOR  is “I want to punch his dick off” awful; except for Molly the dog, who should have been given all the roses, Milk Bones, and stuffed animal of her choice to hump.

dog humping dollWhat is it about The Bachelor that makes hos in high heels kiss their fists and brawl like they’re auditioning for a CNN reporter position in Egypt?  Head pimp Chris Harrison must have a never ending conveyer belt line of sluts with occupations of “Dog Lover” and “Free spirit” willing to break a nail for an opportunity to marry the human equivalent of a question mark. 

drunk whore wisdom juanSay what you will but the show has a huge fan base giving it the shelf life of a cockroach or CHER. If ABC has their way, the last 5 people on earth will be found competing for roses (and potable water) on The Bachelor: Apocalypse.

Among a sea of vacant expressions and anemic apologies, Juan’s only redeeming moment was in him NOT saying “I love you” to the gaggle of gals who were willing to open their veins and legs in proving their unwavering adoration for him.

Five of the 27 women made their declarations of love from their Juan Pablo cum stained lips. But in a distant stare reminiscent of a toddler trying to learn quantum physics, Juan Pablo would respond to such overtures with a patronizing “eess okay, okay” or “you’ve been doing some thinking aye?,” then proceeded to initiate a session of tongue sucking. For a man who speaks English as a second language, he has an incredible vocabulary for evasion.

juan shit
I think we can all take a page from the Juan Pablo play book when ambushed with the “L Word” talk.  So now I present to you…  How to avoid saying “I love you” the Juan Pablo way:

Thank you.”

Just know that I love so many things about you. That’s the reason I want you to be here. I love how much you care about other people. I love your honesty. So much. So much. Very honest. Very honest.”

Don’t get cranky.”

You want me to lie to you? I’m being honest.”

Eess okay.”

[Plays a romantic song on his iPhone.]

I’m not gonna answer that question for you.”

“I loved fucking you.”

juan pablo ay ay ay reactIf you’re a dick-loving woman with a boyfriend, then I’m sure you just changed your Facebook status from “in a relationship” to “ Juan Pabloed!!!!!!”  

juan family valuesIt is always jarring when a guy who ditches his daughter to dry hump a dozen drunk skanks in a hot tub turns out to be a selfish jag off. Sure, most reality stars are endless fountains of little malapropisms and mixed idiomatic expressions.  But Juan Pablo puts the ass in ass cake.  If slut shaming Clare (who he fucked in the ocean to make her feel better about herself), calling all gays perverts, and mocking the mentally disabled in a tweet, aren’t savvy life rules for all of us to live by, you’ll be happy to know….  he also parks in the handicap spots at the mall, spits instead of using lube during anal, and only tips 6% at Olive Garden.

By the time Nikki Ferrell, made her way to Juan Pablo’s proposal spot, the entire audience had to be a little worn out.  Still we all hoped for the best after witnessing that brutal dumping of Clare, whose face still smelled like sweaty balls and Pablo peen nectar.  Surely, Nikki would receive all the love and adoration Juan Pablo had been saving all season, along with the Neil Lane box burning a hole in his pocket.  Aye?  Aye? 

juan pablo i like you alot 1

juan pablo i like you a lot No más.

no juan pabloIt has been cringe worthy to watch Nikki beg Juan Pablo for some kind (any kind) of loving affirmation.  After all, she has been in love with him for four months and he wouldn’t so much as say “I love you” in a cough or conversation heart.  But apparently last month all that changed when Don Juan Pablo uploaded Adventures In Loving You to his YouTube page, The song created from the words he wrote and romantic barf moments the two have had together. 

So what can we take away from Juan Pablo other than a herpes outbreak?  That when it comes to love  gauging emotions are always difficult, unless you are both perfectly in sync at that moment. Some relationships will always remain one-sided, with one partner investing more emotional energy than the other.  But how common is it for a guy to say “I love you” first?  Let’s go to the internet and find out shall we?

to the internet raceAccording to research conducted by YOUGOV men take 88 days to tell their partner they love them, compared to a woman’s languorous 134 days.   And some 77% of men say it first.

Now because my mother was one DNA strand away from being the perfect genetic composite of Joan Crawford and Edith Beale, she taught me that a woman NEVER says “I love you” first.  For whatever it’s worth, I never had to.   I was born with a bullseye target on my forehead that sends out love pheromones to tattoo wearing commitment phobes.

If you read enough Cosmo you’ll see that saying “I Love You” first is like getting vaginal thrush. You never want to say it first unless someone is on their deathbed.  Societal rules in dating tells a gal that an “I love you” uttered too soon, before the man has processed his feelings and reached the same level of adoration, could end a relationship.   When a dude says it first, he is declaring something to you. When you say it first, it will most likely come across as you forcing it on him.  (Thank you ridiculous heterosexual couple gender roles!)

I’m sick of hearing how men can’t be mind-readers but women should never be honest. If you’re going to design a relationship making “power plays” and doing all sorts of facockta stuff to try and protect yourself from losing an imagined power, then you probably aren’t ready for a relationship anyway.  A dude will only take distance from a gal playing games in attempt to protect himself from the manipulation.
ryker needleI have a thing for a dude that opens up like fruit, like an orange torn open, all jagged and tender.  You gotta give it up for a dude who supports a performing life he barely understands.   A fella
secure enough to not only accept my keen knack for the sexual over share but makes GIF’s to celebrate it.  I know I am lucky to have found such a gent.  Prior to Ryker all I got out of online dating was an empty bank account,  broken sphincter, and a VaJazzle addiction.  Ryker is different.  He encourages me to soar higher than I think I can fly.  He loves me in spite of myself and my wrecking ball tongue.  There is strength in the differences between us.  There is comfort in where we overlap.

love confession juanSo how soon is too soon in saying the L Word? 

We race to fall in love in our minds, yet most of us are afraid to execute the reality.  I believe the best way to say “I Love You,” is to let it grow inside you and spontaneously jump out. It should take you by storm.  Love should be an inspiration, not an obligation.   Love means putting yourself out there giving someone the power to destroy you, but the trust that they won’t.

love u gif

Are you on the fence contemplating telling someone you love them but you aren’t sure how they will take it?  Grab your balls.  If you were lucky enough to have the type of childhood that didn’t destroy you from feeling “feelings,” and you truly love someone, tell them.  They might get hit by a cement truck when out of your sight, then how would you feel?  You can be vulnerable and still protect your heart.  Tell them the Snarky Snatch way:   Right after she sneezes say “God Bless You! I Love You! Hey is that Juan Pablo?!” Point and run away.

Speaking of Juan Pablo…

kat juan pabloSweet Jesus, Mary and Jerome.  I would rather have a 1,000 fire ants crawl out of my vagina than date a piece of broccoli who will fain interest in a group of ladies, then pretend to propose to one, then pretend to have a relationship with her, then pretend to dump her a few months later after their contract with “Dancing with the Stars” ends.

juan pablo dancing Why don’t you pair your hot pink gym shoes with a neon sign around your neck saying: “SUCK THIS, BITCH” complete with an arrow pointing down to your penis so we don’t have to hear you burp up anymore jackbag tripe from your broken English, dry butt, nugget mouth.

juan pablo crying reactEess okay, Juan Pablo.   Eess okay.

This post was brought to you by:  FTD’s “I Don’t Fucking Love You” Bouquets.      I bet you were expecting some cute sappy sentiment with a card.   Well, that is too fucking bad.   When you don’t care that much…. send the very least.  Send flowers.

brought to you by i dont love you flower bouqet juanMen always love a woman with a good personality.  Since I have 10 I leave it to them to choose.  Come talk with one of them on Facebook.  It’s like a box of chocolate.  You never know which one you’re gonna get. 

snarky elephant blog

It’s Good Friday Unless You Are Getting Nailed To A Cross

blog church Happy Easter!  For on this day we celebrate Jesus’ reincarnation into a bunny rabbit who delivers plastic eggs from CVS to the bedroom doors of snot nosed brats.  For the adults, Easter is a lot like Christmas except you don’t get any presents for holding in all that inner family hostility and rage.


Raise your Kinder Egg if you love Easter! 

raise hand easterNo?  Not a fan? 

Oh don’t give me your blanket statement about a godless universe and how religious holidays are for the narrow minded who have been systematically brainwashed into emotional servitude of a Jesus construct.   It’s 2014. Mocking Christianity is about as hip as mocking Lindsey Lohan out of rehab.

Besides, what did Jesus ever do to you?

jesus porn easterPersonally I think Easter rocks.  Jesus saved me, and I get a shitload of candy for it.

peeps layingWhile on the topic of candy….  What is the deal with those damn PEEPS?  You know those chick and rabbit shaped blobs of sugar, corn syrup and gelatin that are stale from the moment you open the box.

peeps smash easter

PEEPS are a controversial confectionery.  Some candy lovers are enamored by these sugary shaped sponges while others loathe them enough to start their own I HATE PEEPS Facebook Page.  Children love them because quite frankly if you gave kids the choice between getting a million dollars a year for the rest of their lives or a permanent IV drip of high fructose corn syrup, they would take all of two seconds to wrap a band around their arm and tap their forearm expectantly.

PEEPS have a nostalgic reverence, like somehow eating one is like breaking off a piece of childhood itself.  Truth be told I don’t much care for them.  I kind of see them as a rainbow fruitcake.  Sure, they are part of a holiday tradition but who the hell eats them?  The only upside to eating anything in assorted colors is that it makes you shit rainbows.

And now we interrupt this post for things to do with PEEPS….

uses for peeps easter

peeps microwave

peeps bustpeeps fluffPeeps: (http://hilariuosimg.wordpress.com/)

Halloween knows how to do candy — it should teach it to Easter.

Now we join our regularly scheduled blog post already in progress.

jesus fanfareEaster at its core is mainly about putting on a really good show for the Lord.   Usually in pastels.   If you grew up in a somewhat normal Christian home, you have a religious narrative for the holiday. But if, like me, your family got its religion from 80′s cable television, then Easter is totally fucking confusing. 

I remember one family holiday dinner where my inappropriate cousin opened up her cake hole of a mouth about some past family grievance that hadn’t had time to heal. Pass that bitch a plunger cause she loves to bring shit up.   Within seconds of her comment a tense vibe swept the dinner table like a human wave at a soccer game right before the riot.  Next someone was flipping a table, smashing a wine goblet, and tossing a ham out the door.

Then there were those Easter eve nights spent dyeing eggs that my drunk step sister forgot to hard boil.  And Easter mornings where my crazy mother would wrap in cellophane a candy filled basket, to only then forget where she hid it.  I would spend the next 3 months trying to locate it.  By the end of July when the basket was finally found, its melted contents looked like something My Little Pony vomited up. Mom eventually grew annoyed in waking up early to assemble a goodie basket and took to hiding scratch-off lottery tickets instead.

war on easterEaster is still a sacred holiday, but for all the wrong reasons.  It is so thematically disunified that it seems more like a holiday created by Hallmark to increase greeting card sales after Valentines Day than anything else.

On any religious holiday you see those peeps (not the marshmallow kind) who never go to Church all year then suddenly decide they will get a “Buy one service, attend Heaven for free” card, just for getting up before noon and not falling asleep in a pew.  But going to church doesn’t make you any more Christian than standing in a garage makes you a car.

easter bunny noWhatever its original intentions, Easter has become commercialized, laden in creepy overtones that have nothing to do with Jesus.  Some egg-laying rabbit who sneaks into homes the night before to deliver baskets of shit candy to good little boys and girls.  Peter Rabbit is nothing more than the old school version of Elf on a Shelf, except with a better stylist.

It makes you wonder if Easter is supposed to be about the sacrifice Jesus made for humanity, then how did it become synonymous in stuffing your face with Cadbury eggs?  As usual, we have Pagans and Pennsylvania to blame. 

Okay, so how I understand it is that the pagans who were up to their armpits in parties and naked raves anyway, had this other festival being held in honor of Eostre or Eastre, the goddess of dawn, spring and fertility.  The festival was already aligning its marketing campaign with all things bunny and egg related.  You know because rabbits and eggs are symbols of fertility.  Anyway, now since this Eostre festival occurred around the same time as the Christians’ celebration of Christ’s resurrection, the two celebrations became one. 


Then around 1680, the first story about a rabbit laying eggs and hiding them in a garden was published.  By the 1700′s the official version of the Easter Bunny arrived with German immigrants who settled in Pennsylvania and transported their tradition of an egg-laying hare called “Osterhase” or “Oschter Haws.” Their children made nests in which this creature could lay its colored eggs.

The true history of the Easter egg.  No yolk.

coloring easter eggsFor many Christians, the Easter egg is symbolic of the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Painting Easter eggs is an especially beloved tradition in the Orthodox and Eastern Catholic churches where the eggs are dyed red to represent the blood of Jesus Christ that was shed on the cross.   The hard shell of the egg represents the sealed Tomb of Christ, and cracking the shell represents Jesus’ resurrection from the dead. Moreover, historically Christians would abstain from eating eggs and meat during Lent, and Easter was the first chance to eat eggs after a long period of abstinence.

If we’re going to resurrect Jesus this Sunday, we better give him a reason to show up.  So what can we do?

Ditch the bunny and chief some leaf for Jesus. 

bunny hell easterIn what is considered to be the best hybrid holiday since Thanksgivukkah, comes Easter 420. 

Unless you have been living under a rock (or perhaps smoking one) you know that this year Easter happens to fall on 4/20, which is the same day as the holiday for marijuana.   Granted, 420 is more a pseudo-holiday than a real one.  It may have absolutely nothing to do with the resurrection of Jesus Christ, but it sure does involve bringing participants to a higher level.

weed psaOh come on.  It isn’t like a little herb hurt anybody. 

reefer madOkay. Except maybe this woman.

weed oh my And this guy.   Can we move on now?

  Say what you will but toking up might be something GOD intended for us do.  Some theologians argue that the Bible speaks of marijuana in Genesis 1:29, and we know ganja makes for an important focal point of the Rastafarian religion.

my weed easterBesides the chocolate Easter bunny makes a great bong with its hollow properties.  All that is left to do is to make a perforation on the bunny’s stomach, stick a bowl in there, cut the top portion off one of the ears, pour some water inside, and voila.

bunny bongInsta-bong for your Scavenger Blunt.

bunny weed easterAnd after a few hits from the bunny bong, you will want to make this:

leggo of my Eggo easter eggNot a fan of combining the Devil’s Lettuce on Easter?  Then how about attending an authentically grim Good Friday reenactment of Jesus’ suffering?  No I am serious. Passion of the Christ staging ain’t just for Mel Gibson anymore.

In many churches of varying faiths, Good Friday is observed with a crucifixion reenactment complete with an actor playing Jesus, dressing as Jesus, being dragged and tortured through the streets like Jesus, and eventually being “nailed” to a cross. That’s right just like Jesus!

jesus guess whoSome of these stagings aren’t just in pantomime either.  In many countries fanatical Christians hammer or drill slender stainless-steel spikes through their hands and feet and hang on a cross in a painful test of their faith. The Catholic Church doesn’t sanction these types of events but thousands of tourists each year do.

Being a former New York stage actress, I am always mucho critical of these types of productions. Most crucifixion reenactments (especially Hollywood versions) seem contrived and unreal.  And why does the modern Jesus always have to look like a sexified version of Jared Leto?

jared jesusLike those that believe in Jesus are going to love him any less if he doesn’t come with six pack abs?  Come to to think of it, I’ve never seen a representation of Jesus’ crucifixion where he didn’t have ripped abs.  Anybody else think that odd? I guess nobody wants their personal Jesus looking like some bloated stoner at a Phish concert. 

fat jesus
Perhaps you can incorporate a tradition from another country into your Easter festivities:

Poland:  The master of the house isn’t allowed to participate in the making of the traditional Easter bread. Or else it is believed that his mustache will turn gray and the dough will fail to rise.

baking bread bakery

Colombia: Colombians have strange dinner menu for the Easter day. Instead of chocolates and eggs, they dine on iguana, turtles and big rodents for the feast.

Brazil: They make straw Judas dolls and take to the street to beat the shit out of it. This is to symbolize the hate Brazilians have for the man that betrayed Jesus Christ.

Finland: Kids roam around the streets dressed up in costume (usually witch costumes) asking for treats.

France: The French make a jagunda omelette that feeds over 1,000 people on Easter Monday every year.

Bermuda: They go flow a kite on Good Friday. Kites are meant to represent the ascension of Christ into heaven.

Ukraine: Peeps throw broken eggshells onto the surfaces of streams to let “the dead” know that Easter has arrived.

Slovakia: Men whip women with a pussy willow and splash them with water. All of this is supposed to symbolize youth, strength, and beauty for the upcoming spring season. And in Cleveland this is called the Dyngus Festival. Hstorically a Polish-American tradition, Dyngus Day celebrates the end of the often restrictive observance of lent and the joy of Easter.  

easter blog mustNone of these ideas float your yolk?   Why not teach your kids the true meaning of Easter by trapping them in a stone tomb for three days?

kid react oh god noFinally, does Jesus really need a mascot for his message to be heard?

rockin jesusIf anyone is NOT in need of a PR rep, it is Jesus.  Despite the Americanization of the Jman, he still remains the greatest rock star of his time.  Who other than Jesus has had more love-crazed, semi-delusional fans, obsessed with every aspect of his life and driven to sheer acts of insanity to prove devotion to him?

Nope. Not even you Kanye.

kanye trying to process the fact that he is not jesusMany devout Christians find issue incorporating the Easter Bunny into their observances of the holiday, citing Jesus diametrically opposed religious rituals that supposedly honor Him but in reality are rooted in worship of false gods: (Mark:7:6-9).  But when was the last time you opened one of those plastic eggs and there was a slip of paper that said, “Jesus sucks, worship me?”

jesus vs the easter bunnyCan the Easter Bunny and Jesus Coexist?

I don’t think Jesus needs to throw down with the Easter Bunny.   It’s not like a dude who can walk on water and turn water into wine has anything to feel threatened about.  Besides non-violence and compassion was kind of a Jesus trademark.

I personally think Jesus has a great sense of humor and would find some entertainment in our ridiculousness.  It isn’t like HE didn’t know how sinful and flawed we were before taking to the cross.  That is the cool thing about Jesus, he knows we are complete train wrecks and loves us anyway.   HE doesn’t get all judgmental and bonkers like most of his fan club does. 

jesus fan clubThat isn’t to say Jesus would be flattered by bunnydom.  I mean how would you react to a cute, fuzzy, cuddly little rabbit trafficking chocolate and plastic eggs filled with coins on the anniversary of your death?  Nothing says gauche like upstaging your sacrifice for mankind in some human-sized rodent with a cold vacant (slightly medicated) stare, pilfering candy in hopes small children will come sit on his lap.

If Jesus were here, I think he would remind us that the true meaning of Easter isn’t found in collecting the most Kinder Eggs or making weird marshmallow PEEPS porn.  Easter is a time to seek, worship, renew, or strengthen your faith.   It is a time to stop calling the women in life “Cunts” or busting a cap in road rage.  It is a time to seek humility.   It is a time to preserve the importance of family, while allowing a personal meaning to develop – even if it’s not considered the intended or conventional one.

If art, legends, and myths from the past teach us anything, it is that human beings long to live, to love and be loved, to reproduce, and to live beyond death. The resurrection of Jesus—the central element of Easter—reflects those longings.  Easter isn’t all about suffering, the cross and death. It’s ultimately about new life, hope, peace and rebirth.

Now I leave you with some cherished Easter memories.  Enjoy!

bunny memoriesSince I don’t have any small children of my own around to scare up on the lap of a matted bunny,  a typical Easter holiday consists of a  Cadbury Creme Egg Sandwich and a pitcher of Peeps-tinis.   So maybe you want to join me on Facebook or Tumblr.  You might as well. Jesus died for our sins — so together we’ll make ‘em worth it.

accept jesus easter

How To Eat Lutefisk Off A Norwegian Guy’s Balls & Other Reasons You Follow My Blog

 snarky blog phone

I don’t know what it is, but something about my blog makes me want to have drinks with people I’ve never met, while Facebook makes me want to throw drinks at people I already know.

Want to know something else amazing about my blog? I can pinpoint the window in time that I completely lost all my sanity.  It appears to have occurred between posting craft ideas in making your own ice dildo and my celebration of Piss Week.

piss magicYeah.  I got high off the fumes of people’s perversions for awhile and got a bit carried away.

I am not alone.  These days, you can’t swing a USB adapter around without hitting a peep with a blog . . . or a chat group, Tumblr, or food diary website, online poetry monograph (accompanied by a lengthy bio), or collection of people finding weird ways to torture their cat.

no iron cat tip blog

cat facial werid blogSure, I could have been like most and taken the road more traveled blogging about cats, politics or other cyber friendly things.    But then if I didn’t blog about orgasmic puppet sex, how else would you have found me? 

spank me puppetI know there are times that a thick stream of bile may rise from your throat because you are so overcome with the sheer talent of my words hitting you.  So it may surprise you that it was never my intention to be a writer. Therefore, I am not. 

Like bad performance art this blog serves as a shared 3-D experience to my trials of dating in Cleveland.

blog internetSnarky Snatch is an agglomeration: vodka soaked crazy musings of my dating adventures meets bitter ex-girlfriend spirals, meets gleeful schadenfreude. All sloppily wrapped up in one fat hideous emotional turd. You might call it revenge blogging. I call it a karma redemption arc.

Blogging about one’s sex-ploits isn’t all roses and anal lube.  There are plenty, PLENTY, of people who think my soul needs editing for authoring this blog.  People like Mr. Shitsky who think me the nucleus of moral depravity causing civilization to lose it’s mind; perpetuating violence among the masses. There are gents like many of my ex-beaus who wrote me off as a headcase or drunken whore.  Who knows they all may be right.

But with all due respect… I’m not the one who was dating me. 

snap

I get it.  You cozy up with a dating blogger and their entire social network comes along for the ride.  Many gents assume that anything they say or do will be used indirectly to humiliate them or as blog fodder. They go around saying, ‘This is not for your blog Kat.’ It’s the blogging equivalent of ‘This is off the record.’

So it takes a special gent, grounded in reality, to handle someone who over shares their life right down to their latest pap smear results.  It is the reason I don’t usually share this blog with gents in the initial throws of dating.   Sooner or later this blog reveals itself and a gent has to decide if he can be a part of my performing life.

Some have been more accepting of it than others.

blog wrestler snarky snatch angry blog reactLove me or hate me; trolling through these pages you will find a plethora of useful information presented in a technicolor way.   From dating advice to crafts for idle hands, my snatch serves up inspiration and knowledge with every cum stained key stroke.   For example, do you enjoy sex but wish you could think about Ethiopian wolves, Goliath whale cocks, or Mediterranean monk seals just a little bit more mid-coitus?  There’s a post for that!

Yet there are certain topics I don’t poke fun about.  Certain subjects don’t make for humor like rape or violence against women. Or jokes on racism.  Racist jokes are NEVER funny which is why I don’t make them.

This blog public service announcement was brought to you by:  iPhone.

brought to you by racismOn the surface my blog blurs an introspective look about my love life presented with a comedic narrative. Probe a little deeper though, and you will see what Nietzsche meant when he described a witticism as an epitaph on the death of a feeling.  Sure, you may find my presentation offensive and not at all funny.  But I look at it this way….

I don’t care.

anal beads gifDon’t let the pictures fool ya.  I provide a valuable service to the masses with this blog.  What?  Don’t believe me? Just see all the ways of which I am Googled:

How to groom a penis

Cunnilingus while weight lifting
Masturbate with your flute at band camp

Why are women bat crap crazy?

How do astronauts give blow jobs in space?

 

astro sex how to blog

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Elizabeth tells Victor why didn’t you fuck me that night

Titspumping with salt solution

Getting knocked up by some black thugs seed

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best sex positions for couples blog

Amish Sex

Big cock disguised as an elephant

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what whatHow do you eat lutefisk off a Norwegian guys balls?

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Men putting their cock in cupcakes and peeing in them pictures

Is it right to decorate my boobs as people?

tit puppets

My husbands cock pics

Is it bad to stick things in your penis hole?

How to piss off your ex boyfriend 

What is the best way to seduce a woman into fucking?

music man sex Kat’s vagina before her labiaplasty    

Things to do with a flaccid penis

What happens if a Catholic masturbates during lent?

Hot woman stroking her pussy

mastur pussyDon’t be ashamed if you found me by Googling Cow Cunnilingus.  We are are all friends here.  Want to get more chummy?  Then join me on Facebook.  

daily show snarky blogAnd did you hear the news?   I am on Tumblr.  I have homemade GIF’s and original pics for you there. Stealing the genius of someone else has never been so fun.

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The Best Sex & Dating Advice From The 1950′s That You Will Never Need

snarky blog retroEver wonder why single women take dating advice from other single women? That’s like Ray Charles giving driving directions to Stevie Wonder.

No matter how desperate, a single gal should never go soliciting advice on love, sex, and dating from her single, sperm-burping compatriots. Women, when we are single, often have hidden agendas: We need to keep other single women just as miserable and alone as we are.

A popular myth we single women tell each other when successful and pretty, is that it will be hard to find a man. I swear, it’s a conspiracy to keep other women single. Plant seeds of doubt, psych them out, take them out of the race.

What makes someone an expert on dispensing love advice anyway? Having more failed relationships than you? Writing a book that dispenses relationship advice?  Oh hell, even I can do that. And I have the relationship know-how and dating charm of a syringe. As you can see for yourself in my latest book:

book cover penis 1Love and loneliness are terrifying—I am personally familiar with that terror—and the world is full of people who want to capitalize on the desperation of the emotionally insecure.   So fuck that.  Who needs their advice anyway?  Why everything you ever wanted to know about finding love and keeping a man you can learn from married women of the past.

50's housewive shit 150's housewive shit 250's housewive shit 3Holy Helen Reddy!  Not exactly what I meant.

I was talking about a time prior to women’s lib.  You know before vaginas got all mouthy and shit.  A time where women didn’t know they came installed with a backbone in questioning the authority of a penis.   An era that conveniently provided women an opportunity to get hopped up on speed while doing housework, and encouraged the display of their hand sewn Butterick pattern gingham-print capris, and pensive bespectacled husband conveniently trapped inside a terrarium.   I am talking circa Mad Men era: the 1950′s.

50's atomic blastOh wasn’t it a blast?  Back then you could speak with a LIVE phone operator, couples didn’t break up with each other via text message, and the water was so clean that fish didn’t even poop in it.

 In the 1950′s people ate shit like this…

50's shit like thisand liked it.

  In the fifties dating world a gent would hold a door open for a woman, buy her flowers and complimented her on her lovely new dress.  Of course some of that so-called “chivalrous” behavior was based on the sexist idea that women are silly, emotional, large children who didn’t deserve to be paid equally or have their own bank account.

boys club reactionNot much has changed there I see.

Six decades of feminism be damned, but you gotta admit that peeps in the 1950′s had the dating thing nailed down. Finding a good partner to marry was as important as finding Brylcreem or a good girdle. One reason that dating was an important factor in the 1950′s is that it was present almost everywhere, even in the classroom. Many schools were equipped with educational films about dating intended to help teenagers live good clean lives.  And they did!  Sorta.

std attack 50'sPushing genital spores aside, I think we can all agree that great advice on sex and dating  can be found in stepping back to a more simpler time:

50's seduce noOkay, not that.

Picture this:  a woman preparing a fine meal for her husband. “She remembered his choice of meat and was careful to get an extra-fine cut…her best cutlery and dishes and finest linen are all in evidence, and a little colorful decoration has been tastefully displayed… and as he comes into the house she greets him with a smile of welcome and a touch of manifest love.”

50's darlingNow let’s put a modern spin on it.  Say after that steak din din you ordered from take-out, that “finest linen” was actually a satin bed sheet, and the colorful little decoration was a pair of fuzzy handcuffs next to some flavored anal lube.  What does all that equal? A gent who doesn’t fuck around on your ass, that’s what!

50's bettySo keeping with that theme,  join me for a sampling of sound relationship advice from an era torn between June Cleaver values and Woodstock rebellion. Reminding all selfish contemporary gals that your fella is just one wrinkled shirt away from leaving you.

50's dating advice“To make him feel important, you have to forget your own desires for importance. Compliment him on his physical prowess, his mental acumen, his good looks, his virility. The worst mistake a girl can make is to make a man feel intellectually inferior or inadequate as a male. We men need a lot of reassurance. So lay it on thick but subtly. Stroke his ego. Let him think he’s king much of the time. He will love you for it, and, you know, it will make you feel extremely feminine.” —from She-Manners: The Teen Girl’s Book of Etiquette, 1959, by Robert H. Loeb Jr.

50s dating“If he’s made plans for the evening, don’t try to change them, no matter how much you hanker to see the double feature at the Palace or to show off your beau to the gang at the Pizzateria. Boys resent bitterly, and they have every right to, the idea that they’re being manipulated or pushed around on a date.” —from McCall’s Guide to Teen-Age Beauty and Glamour, 1959, by Betsy Keiffer

50's cocktails“If you are a gal who uses frank, men’s locker room language—DON’T on this first date. DON’T—EVER! Avoid shocking your date. Even if he uses such language and hears all the guys and dolls in the senior class using it, he wants his date to be better than the rest of the crowd.” —from She-Manners

“Complaining, whining, comparing, sneering, harping – the nagger may specialize in one or be a general practitioner of all these forms of mental cruelty. . . . Nagging is a devastating emotional disease. If you are in doubt about having it, ask your gent. If he should tell you that you are a nag, don’t react by violent denial – that only proves he is right.” —from How To Help Your Husband Get Ahead

50's lap advice

50's oral twirl“Listen to him. You may have a dozen important things to tell him, but the moment of his arrival is not the time. Let him talk first – remember, his topics of conversation are more important than yours.”  – from the Good Wife’s Guide (1954)

Whoa.  Stop there.  What man would actually expect a woman to stay quiet for that long?  It would be unnerving.  He would get suspicious and think she was planning his murder or something.

50's murder housewiveNow some savvy advice on how to trick a man into marrying you.

50's brideI know it is only the 3rd date, but it is time to think about getting hitched.  Unless you are planning on making some omelets, dem eggs of yours aren’t getting any younger toots.

There are many ways you can snooker a gent into thinking you are good enough to marry.  Most don’t involve bogus pregnancy tests either!  My personal favorite is anal but that involves sex, and sex is no way to snag a good man.  If Duck Dynasty has taught us nothing else, it is that good men don’t want sex. Good men marry plain, upstanding women, who make excellent dishes primarily fashioned out of mayonnaise.

50's fucking housework“Let him relax before dinner. Discuss family problems after the inner man has been satisfied.
Just as the vampire sucks the blood of its victims in their sleep while they are alive, so does the woman vampire suck the life and exhaust the vitality of her male partner—or “victim.”  It is to be borne in mind that it is particularly older girls—girls between thirty and fifty—who are apt to be unreasonable in their demands when they get married; but no age is exempt; sexual vampires may be found among girls of twenty as well as among women of sixty and over.”

“It is up to you to earn the proposal—by waging a dignified, common-sense campaign designed to help him see for himself that matrimony rather than bachelorhood is the keystone of a full and happy life.” —from “How to Make Him Propose” in Coronet Magazine, 1951, by Ellis Michael

50's pizza tantrum“Signs of immaturity in a woman are hysteria, temper tantrums, the desire to have too much attention, intolerance, and inconstancy.  The hypochondriac woman always complaining of headaches, backaches, dizzy spells, choking sensations where there is no physical basis is an immature person.  The foregoing immature reactions result in an unhappy marriage.” – The Good Wife’s Guide May 13, 1955

How to be a Good Wife” Edward Podolsky gives in his 1943 book, Sex Today in Wedded Life:

Don’t bother your husband with petty troubles and complaints when he comes home from work.
Let him tell you his troubles; yours will seem trivial in comparison.
Remember your most important job is to build up and maintain his ego (which gets bruised plenty in business). Morale is a woman’s business.

Stretching Herself for the Wedding Night:

vagina toss“It is preferable for the girl to stretch herself rather than to have the doctor resort to cutting the hymen or stretching under anesthesia. The self-stretching process, although it takes a little longer, can be accomplished without pain or discomfort, and in the stretching the girl acquires a great deal of information about her pelvis which will be important later on in her married life.”

Wait.  Question.  Can you put a modern spin on this one by just fucking a big ole dick the night before your wedding?

50's ram penis in tunnelNow, if you are one of those frigid or sexually anesthetic women, don’t be in a hurry to inform your husband about it. To the man it makes no difference in the pleasure of the act whether you are frigid or not unless he knows that you are frigid. And he won’t know unless you tell him, and what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Heed this advice. It has saved thousands of women from trouble.

50's cheating daysLastly, is your gent cheating on you? Then take comfort in this retro film.  There you will find nuggets of wisdom like: Pretend you’re busy when your gent comes home, so it isn’t obvious that you’ve been waiting for him. Looking out of the window is an extremely effective way to get your point across when you’re having an argument. Everything is “wonderful” as long as you have proof your gent isn’t lying to you.   And … stop projecting your paranoid jealousy onto him when everyone knows it is in fact YOU, you hungry dick whore.

50's amusementIt is refreshing to step back and examine sex/dating from a more innocent era. Of course actually stepping back into this past generation would mean swapping sushi for sundaes, cell phones for charades and the rat race for racism.

Do you think men are reluctant to be more chivalrous today because they don’t really see much ladylike behavior deserving of it?

twerking for attentionMaybe. Slutty behavior kinda gets vanilla after awhile. Routine. You become immune to it. And how many “independent” women today would actually find being helped out of a chair and into a coat condescending and inappropriate?

Okay, aside from some obvious archaic advice chunks above, would you agree that there are a few tips we can apply to modern times?  Like say… oh, I don’t know… like putting in a little effort into looking good for your gent? I know you say, “but he should love me the way I am.” Sure, but what are you giving him, visually, to love? Your pants may say yoga, but your ass says Chipotle.

Want to spice up your love life? Forget everything you know about your husband or boyfriend and remember everything you love about dicks without faces. Ask yourself if I were to run into a yummy dick without a face, would I look presentable to it? Now apply that same philosophy to your man.

While on the subject of self modification… how do I politely say this?

50's stop cuntOkay. That works.

For any woman in a relationship who is complaining that her man isn’t good enough for her, let me remind you of something… you could have spent the past two years being me. Not just single, but alone. There is a difference. I invite you to spend 20 minutes immersed in this blog reading about what it is like out there in the dating trenches.

 Stop trying to build a better boyfriend by tearing down the great one you have now. What makes you such an expert on designing humanity anyway? Your past six failed relationships? Like that last one who sat waist-deep in Cheetos dust, channel surfing on your couch, while you held down two jobs to support him? Yeah, great spec model all men should aspire to become.

make up kiss angry love Love is hard work, compromise, sacrifice, heartbreak and trying times; with soul-searching, faith-leaping and, yes, dream-fulfilling pinch-yourself-moments. In many of those trying times you will need to remind yourself that good cocks don’t grow in a garden. If you are lucky enough to have one already, then put in the effort. Maybe he is even worth making that steak din din for.

Instead of worrying about whether you’re “flattering your gent” or engaging in “dysfunctional conversation” just ask yourself whether you’re being a bitch troll, and adjust accordingly.

 Behold, the Snarky Snatch dating & relationship guide:

Step 1: Don’t be a nagging bitch troll harpy.
Step 2: Do whatever you want, as long as it doesn’t violate Step 1.

  This post brought to you by Tlazolteotl 2000!
With a Tlazolteotl 2000 your little Miss will NEVER leave the kitchen.

brought to you by 50's giftsTlazolteotl 2000 – Every housewife’s handy helper.

Do you know what the difference is between a penis and work bonus? A wife will always blow a bonus. Speaking of blowing things… don’t blow your chance to join me on Facebook. Oh it will be NEATO, KEEN & SWELL!

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Boobs Or Cheese?


boob charmin blog“Why don’t we have a version of Hooters where men just walk around serving chicken wings in their boxers? It can be called Peckers.” ~  Late night business planning with vodka.

grocery store weirdoIf you’ve spent more than a few minutes on the internet, you know that it serves as a portal to the  often weird and ridiculous.  Since my blog is picture heavy, I spend a lot of time there searching for images.

I usually keep a cup of bleach nearby as I go a Googling.  I have found that one can erase any disturbing image one comes across by simply pouring Clorox directly into the ear.  Before the bleach absorbs into the cranial crevices, shake your head around.  I think the exact medical term is called brain gargling.

love your blog how do iTwo things equal instant blog popularity: sex and cats.   They go together like Nutella on dicks.  But there are two other subjects that rank just as high in a WordPress search engine.   Any guesses to what they might be?

pizza beyonce cheeseClose, but I was thinking:  Boobs and Cheese.

boob shimmyBoobs.  Who doesn’t love a pair of fun bags?   Boobs are perfect ornaments in shape and design.  They provide entertainment, sexual stimulation, and sometimes even amusement. From the dawn of time breasts have been shaping history – aiding in both promoting and destroying careers, bringing men to their knees, and providing extra cushioning to women in airplane crashes.

Boobs provide such robust twin energy that they often have a mind of their own.

boob giggle

boob giggle 2But then there is cheese.

cheese whizNot sure if it is the same for gents, but women love their cheese.   It doesn’t matter if it’s the cottage kind, a cute little cheese ball, wedges on a plate or Salsa Con Queso right out of the jar.

night cheeseAny time or place a gal will take to cheese like a NYC rat trapped in a Kraft factory. Put a pot of cheese fondue in front of any woman and I legitimately think she would dip anything in it. Yeah, you heard me right…

bj kneesI said… ANYTHING.

take that with cheeseNow maybe like Mr. E, you prefer your boobs dipped in cheese?

cheese whiz boobsFine.  Whatever floats your fondue.  But what if you couldn’t have both?  Think about it.  I’ll wait.

OOoh…  I hear an internet game coming on.  That’s right gang it’s back by popular demand!

It is time to play Boobs…. Or …..Cheese!

internet date clapWant to play?  Oh come on now.  It is more fun than squeezing the Charmin.

50's more fun than squeezing the Charmin Plus it is easy like my anus.  All you have to do is tell me which you like more.   Do you prefer…

boobs cheese confettiBoobs!!

Or….

stuffed cheese pocketCheese!!

clapping boobsBoobs!!!

Or…

grilled cheeseCheese?

boob cheese bedBoobs?!

cheesy cheeseCheese!

Thank you for playing.  All contestants receive a free gift certificate to Mc Wanks roadside stand.

Mc WanksThis post was brought to you by Svedka vodka and by…

cheese

Also brought to you by…..

brought to you by sarah

sad kittenOH GAWD NO!  Not again.

Curse you Sarah McLachlan!   Curse you and the dog you rode in on.  Up next:  Story time with the Snatch.

boob cheese story time Come let’s eat cheese and bond over pics of your tits.  Join me on Facebook.   Come on and follow me.  Everybody’s doing it…. even your cat.

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ron jeremy tits advice cheese post

In The Mood To Dissolve Between My Thighs?

dissolve thighs blogI love myself I want you to love me
When I feel down I want you above me
I search myself I want you to find me
I forget myself I want you to remind me

touch myself1

I don’t want anybody else
When I think about you I touch myself
Ooh I don’t want anybody else
Oh no, oh no, oh no

You’re the one who makes me come runnin’
You’re the sun who makes me shine
When you’re around, I’m always laughin’
I want to make you mine

close touch oI close my eyes and see you before me
Think I would die if you were to ignore me
A fool could see just how much I adore you
I’d get down on my knees, I’d do anything for you

I don’t want anybody else
When I think about you I touch myself
Ooh I don’t want anybody else
Oh no, oh no, oh no

masturbating gifI love myself I want you to love me
When i feel down I want you above me
I search myself I want you to find me
I forget myself I want you to remind me

I don’t want anybody else
And when I think about you I touch myself
I don’t want anybody else
Oh no, oh no, oh no

touch myself 2*spoken*
I want you
I don’t want anybody else
And when i think about you I touch myself
OO OO OO-OO Ahhhhh

masturbate gifI don’t want anybody else
When i think about you I touch myself
I don’t want anybody else
When i think about you I touch myself
I touch myself

I don’t anybody else
When i think about you I touch myself
(repeats and fades into end)

kat wink

blog kiss smackSong performed by PINK.  Originally performed by the Divinyls.

Road Head Was Great But I Kept Getting Dick Caught In My Teeth

love me car road headIf Sonny Corleone had EZ Pass, do you think he’d still be alive? – Random thoughts I have while learning to drive a stick shift.

insidecar If you call me ‘whore’ in the street I will shove my boot up your ass.  If you growl it whilst piston fucking my face when giving road dome, I would empty my bank account for you.

paul road head giffyRoad dome (head), in general is fun and a great reason to carpool.  I can think of 69 great reasons to suck a cock but some of my best reasons center around being watched or getting caught by others.  If caught other drivers almost always look shocked and awe struck.  It’s a sexy rush that just can’t be explained.  It makes a gent feel like you can’t wait to have a taste of him which is turn on for everyone involved.  But for dudes probably the best thing about road dome is that a woman can’t see where you’re going to complain about your driving or bitch at you for getting lost. 

sex van Above: Randy couple takes road sex to a whole new level.  Shocked drivers in a passing car caught the woman straddling the man who was in the driver’s seat — and decided to film their saucy antics. And let that be a lesson to y’all.  When it comes to road banging America’s traffic cameras witness more nooky than a trout stream in spawning season.

fondle roadIt is estimated that 11% of drivers admit to having a trouser cobra tamer on their lap while driving no matter what the danger. That’s right, DANGER. Using your cellphone while driving puts you at risk, but chickenheading a dude while driving puts people in danger in ways not yet imaged in crash test dummy videos.  Trust me, nothing says cock block like the airbag exploding in your groin.

woman kat drive roadUndeniably one thing that makes road sex/head so appealing is the obvious turn-on in breaking the law.   So it pays to know those road rules.  In many states BJs are illegal no matter if on a highway or roadside stand no matter if you’re married, dating, or a truck-stop hooker.

Alabama Penalty = 1 year/$2,000

Florida Penalty = 60 days/$500

Idaho Penalty = 5 years to life…life!

Kansas Penalty = 6 months/$1,000, (only applies to same-sex acts)

Louisiana Penalty = 5 years/$2,000

Michigan Penalty = up to 15 years imprisonment, repeat offenders get life

Mississippi Penalty = 10 years

North Carolina Penalty = 10 years/discretionary fine

Oklahoma Penalty = 10 years (only applies to same-sex acts)

South Carolina Penalty = 5 years/$500

Texas Penalty = $500 (only applies to same-sex acts)

Utah Penalty = 6 months/$1,000

Virginia Penalty = 1-5 years (No car boom boom rule. Section 18.2-349)

road head arrestLadies do you still have bail money left over and it’s burning a hole in your purse? Then ride him until he screams! Or until you scream. Or until the police sirens scream. Whichever comes first. Chances are, if you do it wrong you will find yourself getting caught.  If you do it right, you’ll find a gear shifter three-quarters of the way up your ass.

Of course your main concern while mastering the art of how to give road head should always be safety. If your gent is the type of guy whose orgasms consist of his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he talks in tongues before passing out, then road head is not for him. Your next concern should be in gauging if he wants road head at all.  Would a dude actually reject a blow job?  It has been rumored to happen.  But like a double dick dude, I have never seen one.

road head attackOkay ladies here comes a truth turd.  If a dude likes having sex with you but is reluctant in having your mouth make a cockular union –That’s like saying, “I sure like tacos, so ergo, I’m turning down those nachos.”

NO ONE TURNS DOWN NACHOS. NO ONE. 

What I am saying is that it may not be safety he puts first over getting head, but your lack of blow job skills.  Blow jobs are like soccer and socialized medicine: fascinating, but hard for a lot of women to understand.  Honestly examine if you are good at giving a blow job before attempting to give one.  Whether in or out of a car, blow jobs are NOT the time to “Volley his penis back and forth like a tennis ball.” 

You get the idea.  Road head is best left to the professionals. We’re not talking about the half-ass, licking-until-hard-then-insertion action here. This is road head. Only surgeons need a steadier hand and focus. If you’re not willing to trust him and commit yourself with 100 percent total devotion to his penis, don’t bother.

So if you think you are up for this road challenge then buckle up.  Below are the Snarky Snatch tips for giving mind blowing road head.  These superior road head skills will earn you permanent shotgun privileges in any vehicle:

porn roadI tend to prefer traveling in the far right lane, so when a gent gets close to climaxing he can pull off to the side and let me finish the job. That’s what emergency pull-offs are for, right?

Another noteworthy trick to giving good road blow is that you give your gents testicles enough space so they can “breathe.” With the lack of space it’s easy to slip and accidentally scramble his eggs. Unlike other times in your relationship, during road head you should be providing him comfort.

You’ll need your dexterous hand to complete the lock and seal around the shaft. Suck that bad boy like you are suffocating and his balls hold the only source of oxygen. Remember, teeth aren’t invited to the party. This is a mantra you say to yourself: No teeth, I have no teeth, I removed them last night and left them on my nightstand. Now I only have gums and lips and tongue. No teeth.

road head pleasure dudeCommunication is crucial because dudes have trouble refusing a bj no matter how bad they think you might be at it. And if you are unskilled you could cause some real damage to a gent’s juicing rod. Not to mention in just taking his eyes or hands off the wheel for one minute can result in both of you becoming road meat.

Don’t be a pussy when your dude attempts to control your mouth’s momentum by grabbing you by the hair and spelunking his shaft down your throat. If he starts mashing your head down, don’t smack his hand away. The day a dude doesn’t grab the back of a gal’s head and shove it on their manbits, is the day when they trade their scrotums in for bedazzled, Justin Bieber themed man purses.

Don’t make the goal here an orgasm. Have no expectations. Expectations are resentments under construction.

swallowed your cumIn the event you do get a shot out of his love gun, swallow. Spitters are quitters. Besides, you shouldn’t spit semen out pf the window onto other passengers. And motorcycle cops really hate it. What are you really saying when you spit? I love sucking on your mansicle, but lets not get too intimate. It’s borrowing a car and returning it with the tank empty.  Above all, don’t try to catch the eruption of Mt Manhood. That’s a difficult task when you’re stationary let alone propelling down the road at 60mph. Think it was hard getting the semen out of your hair in your bathroom? Try getting it out in the bathroom of Che` Classy Bitch With Cum In My Hair.

sex with a video starRemember he’s filming this with his brain and may use it as masturbation fodder for years to come, or not, that depends on you.

 Stay focused. Ignore that steering wheel whap to the back of your head every now and then.

driving road head dude

Cars today aren’t blow job friendly with jagunda consoles wedged between a cock and its sperm receptacle.  I know gents like Mr. E. long for the era of bench seats with automatic transmissions.  But at least all cars come equip with a cock’s best wing man…. Auto-Pilot..   Use your co-pilot of cruise control to keep from losing control when blowing your wad.

Not all road head is good head. The road is paved with many a chewed up flesh flute in need of triage after a gal attempted to blow his horn while driving on a graveled road. If that image is not enough to deter you from tonsil throttling your little cum queen in dismal back-road conditions, then perhaps having a lap full of vomit will.   Not all us gals come equip with a built-in gag reflex. Memo delivered.   

kat dick drivI don’t care how dangerous it might be. They can make me stop giving road head the day they use the jaws of life and pull my mangled body from the wreckage of an orgasm related head on collision.  By the way if anyone can successfully give really good cunnilingus while a woman is driving, I’d like to hear about it.

sex public transit roadI suppose before I get muffin head, I must first obtain my driver’s license.  Having sex on public transit is always a drag.  Those Megabus seats don’t recline like they claim.  Which reminds me, I haven’t forgotten about my fellow New Yorkers who don’t drive.  Here is a nod to blows on the go via mass transit. 

subway blowWow. As if making eye contact with people on the subway is awkward enough. Now I have to make eye contact with their O-face?

By the way, he’s reading Sigmund Freud’s “Interpretation of Dreams” — the part about trains, of course.

paul road head

 I get delirious whenever you’re near
Lose all self control baby just can’t steer
Wheels get locked in place
Stupid look on my face
It comes to makin’ a pass, pretty mama
I just can’t win a race

‘Cuz I get delirious
Delirious
Delirious

 I get delirious whenever you’re near
Girl you gotta take control ‘cuz I just can’t steer
You’re just to much to take
I can’t stop I ain’t got no brakes

Girl you gotta take me for a little ride up and down
In and out and around your lake    

‘Cuz I get delirious
Delirious
Delirious   ~ Lyrics by Prince

k car sex

This post was brought to you by:

brought to you by carma sutra road head

And by: Taco Bell. Make a run south of his border.

brought to you by taco bell    Did you know that blowing a tranny means something entirely different to a car mechanic?  Come join me on Facebook for more factoids on life, love and vaginas.  Like….

Road Head Tip #463 Pretend his dick is a windshield wiper. Pour Windex all over it.

car sex coffee

Sorry Your Expectations For “Steak & Blow Job” Day Will Actually Be Nothing More Than A SteakUm and Lazy Lick

kat cooking blogWho’s got two thumbs and wants an anonymous blowjob?

Happy Steak and Blowjob Day!! The White History Month of holidays.  What exactly is Steak & Blow Job Day you ask?

Traditionally Steak and Blow Job Day is a day when millions of straight guys get together to suck each other’s dicks with steak in their mouths.

reaction chewJust kidding.

steak and bj yum handIn order to counteract the overwhelming pressure and expectations placed on all men on Valentine’s Day, on March 14th men are gifted with those most sacred of masculine gifts a vagina can provide (aside from 2 hookers and an eight ball): a steak and a blowjob!

Whaaaat? No steak? No Blow job? So your wife says she has been waist deep in Cheerio dust and kid vomit all day. She got no blow left in her. You got a warm veggie burger and a dry hump so be happy.

crying dude bedI feel your pain sweetness.  Hey perhaps you can reach a compromise with your little Mrs. Have you ever considered a handjob in lieu of a blow job? I know. I know. Handjobs often don’t get the bed cred they deserve.  Now raise your hand if you think that’s wrong?  

It reminds me of a story…

“A long haul trucker is driving along a remote stretch of highway. He’s been on job after job, away from home so long that his wife got fed up and left long ago. He’s been on the road, lonely, and he can’t remember the last time he felt a woman’s touch. After hundreds of miles he sees a tiny honky tonk by the side of the highway. The trucker, who’s scarcely had any human contact aside from the odd gas station attendant, pulls over and goes inside. There’s a pool table, a bar, and a chalkboard sign: Hamburgers, $2. Chicken Sandwiches, $2. The Greatest Handjob in the Entire World, $2. After a moment, a barmaid emerges. She’s beautiful, buxom, a sight for sore trucker eyes. She takes out a pad, clicks her pen, and leans seductively pressing her tits on the bar. “What can I get for you?” she asks. The trucker pauses, and checks his wallet. “Are you the young lady who gives the greatest hand jobs in the entire world?” he asks. “Why yes,” she coos. “Well, wash your hands,” he says. “I want a chicken sandwich.”

fondle dick no handYep.  A handjob has no love. 

Nobody likes giving them or getting them. Handjobs are the black jellybean, scented-candle-Christmas-present, gift-certificate-to-Talbott’s of sex.  It is like craving a romantic dinner at Le Cirque and instead your gent getting reservations at Applebees.

boxed restaurants gifI have given so many handjobs in my dating career that my hand could probably collect unemployment.   You scoff at the idea of that kind of cockular relief but a lot of very kinky women discover the secret power of an elaborate handjob or “handjo” after basically blowing through (pun pun pun!) every other conventional perversion they can do in public. 

That is the great thing about hand jobs! Unlike cunnilingus or fucking, handjos can occur a little more surreptitiously. I can give a handjo to my gent in his car, in a bar, or while in the stands at NASCAR. In a leather chair, at the fair, even high up in the air. Scuba diving below sea of 40ft, in the street, or at a diner while he eats. In a bed, at Club Med, or with my hamster Ed. I would even give a hando at a funeral (well, providing my gent ain’t the one whose dead).  Yes, a handjo will make my gent cum anytime… anyplace… even on my face.

jagunda p penis handjobListen to it: handjob.   The word itself when said aloud chimes with the same pathos and emotional resonance as summer camps, baseball and sand toys at the beach.  Every woman can appreciate the first time she gave a hand job. That moment where she “became a woman,” entering into a sexual territory never before explored. Then there comes a certain point in a woman’s sexual history where she just decides — out of nowhere — that handjobs are just not part of the repertoire anymore. Usually following a few dates of a gent grabbing the back of her head and shoving her face down to his sweaty pulsating python sac. You start to think, is it really worth chafed hands, an elbow sprain and hand warts when we could just have sex?

kat as little girl gifI have been giving handjobs to the boys since I was a wee kitten.  The first soda I jerked didn’t fair so well though.  In fact, the rub job I did to his penis would probably be considered torture in most cultures.  Thankfully over time I improved.  A handjob still remains the Hallmark Card of my sexual repertoire. If I like you but it’s too much effort and expense to give you something substantial, here is a little handjob to show you that I care.

For too long the hand job has been reduced to nothing more than a consolation prize; the last resort for negotiation with a tired girlfriend or a quick get-it-over-and-done-with alternative.  But handjobs are so much more.  One of the best reasons for giving a handjob is unlike a blow job, it allows for kissing.  Ever try to kiss your gent with a dick in your mouth? It isn’t easy.  Another handy thing about a hand job is that you can totallly watch TV while doing it. They give your gag reflex a much needed respite.   And for all my lady writers out there… you are still able to blog with your other hand!

hospital handjobThe only downside to giving a hando is that there isn’t much mind stimulation going on while giving one.  You might not know this but a woman’s vagina comes installed with ADHD – Attention-Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) which sometimes serves as a cock block. We can rarely step out of our minds long enough to enjoy the moment. Handos do for our attention span what rats did for the Black Plaque.

Here are some things my spinning mind is thinking of when giving a handjob:

hand job 70s gifShould my wrist be creaking like that?

I have really strong hands. I wonder if he’ll think I’m a dude?

I wonder if Ramona will get back with Mario on the Real Housewives of NYC?

His penis kind of looks like Chet from Weird Science.

chet penis googly eyes handIs this dude ever gonna cum?

Does my hand look fat?

Whew. I’m getting kind of flushed and out of breath. My wrist is totally out of shape.

My small hands sure make his dick look bigger.

I’m never going to get this dude to cum this way. I sooooo don’t want to blow him. I know! I’ll fake a seizure and maybe he will just go to sleep.

kermit loves it handjob

The physical pleasure derived from a professional hand job compared to an amateur blow job can be an absolute blowout. A true Hand Job Queen will leave you with your knees shaking and your ballsack moisturized. But this task isn’t for the sloth or stoner crowd.  They don’t call it a hand JOB for nothing.

You can’t be a great diver if you can’t swim, you can’t be a great blogger if you can’t type, and you can’t be a great fuck if you can’t give a good hand job.  This is where I come in.  I was taught the following secrets by some monks living in the Himalayan mountains. Now I roam the earth sharing my dick-milking techniques to the masses.

 Everything You Need To Know About Jerking A Soda:

jerk yourself a sodaFirst you must realize that no matter how good you are with your hands, you know all he’s really thinking are the words to Akinyele song:

Put it in your mouth
She said put it in her mouth
I said my muthafuckin’ mouth
I mean her muthafuckin’ mouth

Fine. I will address this point once before moving on. If a hand job just won’t do for a man of your cockular stature, then here is a great throwback maneuver to tell your gal. “Honey, think of it this way: You know how that first bite of Chunky Monkey ice cream tastes after a long stretch of dieting? The spoon can’t get to your mouth fast enough. There’s something exhilarating about it. That’s the same way I feel about a new mouth on my dick.”

With seemingly little effort dudes get as randy as baboons during red butt season. A gent’s whole life is just tiny moments wedged in between whacking off. This can work to your advantage.  Their peckers grow like a Chia Pet.

rub rub handjobRub, rub, rub through the pants like it’s a baby animal just about to be born. Unzip. Begin stroking it. This is what all of that ShakeWeight training has been preparing you for. Watch the grip. Otherwise, you’re just giving them an Indian Burn. Speed is important and varies from cock to cock. Watch how fast he does it. Think of this rule of thumb: Vaginas = fast, but handos = not so much.

A brief word about ball sacs. Balls are like feral kittens — they have to trust you before it’s fun for everybody to play with them.  Treat them with love.  Earn their trust.

handjob eroticTeasing. Take it slow at first. You can take your time undressing your gent and teasing him with your hands outside his clothes or underwear beforehand. Once he’s at full staff, there are several ways to drive him a little crazy with gentle touching: You can touch or lick the head of his penis, lightly massage his testicles, or use your fingers to softly stroke his penis.

hand job school
The addition of lotion to a hand job is equivalent to the addition of sauerkraut to the hot dog. Lubrication is a must for any successful handjob. If you’re gonna give a lube-free hand job you might as well take a piece of sandpaper to the dick and then delete your number from his phone – the end result will be the same.

May I suggest a scented lube? Have you ever smelt your hands after giving a hand job? The stench is blinding. It’s like a mix of seafood and decaying wood.  It’s not about the motion to the ocean. It’s about the lotion to the motion.  And since this is the season of Lent, I suggest some Holy Water Lube.  What?  God has a sense of humor.

god angryAs any porn actress will tell you “being in the moment” is standard Stanislavski method acting for a character’s psychological motives and personal identification with another actor when he cums on your face.  So ladies, watch your jerking soda cum face.

crazy dateNo dude will cum to this face no matter how his cock is being stroked.

wrist exercise

Don’t forget to flex before working out.  It is all fun and games until you pull a wrist muscle on his wanker.  The key to avoiding wrist injury is to vary your technique.  There are lots to choose from. The milking. The Jergins gergin. The basket weave. There is no law that states you may only stroke dick with one hand at a time. You have two hands so use them.

hand sutraThe goal of the hand job is to be so great that if your man was blindfolded he wouldn’t be able to tell if it was your mouth, hands, or pussy enclosing around his love wand.  Practice makes perfect.  Follow these techniques and in a few months blindfold your gent while doing it.    He won’t know the difference between your pussy and a top dollar Asian masseuse pepper-cracking his Slim Jim.

hand job americaA world without handjobs is a world without hope.  Which is why I am naming 2014 THE YEAR OF THE HAND JOB!  Join me in giving the cocks of this nation a hand.  That’s right.  Just like Justin brought Sexy Back, I’m bringing handjob back.  So ladies, put on some Billy Squier and get stroking!

Choke that chicken.  Choke that chicken real dead.

cock running gifIf I shake your hand and then you jack off it will be like I gave you an indirect handjob!   I shake the hands of all my friends so you might as well become one Facebook.  And remember: A blow job from a puppet is just a hand job from the ventriloquist.  

Now on a personal note….  I want to thank all of you for your support.  Your gracious words and heartfelt commentary made all the difference to a heart on the mend.  Ryker took your words to heart and has now joined our little dysfunctional family.  I want to lick the faces of every single one of you!   Love and mayhem.  ~ K.

dick city ryker handoRyker:  Welcome back to my Snatch and Happy Steak and Blow Job Day!  I hope you got your ticket to ride because there is no one else’s meat I would rather have in my mouth.

stop posting steak

Hand Job, Bland Job I-Don’t-Understand Job

handjob bananaHand job, Bland job
I-Don’t-Understand job

I got a problem and I can’t contain it
I’ll use my icky sticky rhymes to help explain it
Handy Js are like Stonehenge to me
Robert Stack can’t even help me unsolve this mystery

I’m the messed up child of a baby boomer
I was in the gifted class but a total late bloomer
Now I got a secret to get off my chest
Went from kissing to sex but never learned the rest

hand job mario gifIn high school, I was in the marching band
Not learning what to do with my hand
While other girls were dripping like a Jackson Pollock
I blossomed later than Mayim Bialik

I’m investigating bones like Deschanel
Trying to make it stand up like Dave Chapelle
When I stare down the barrel of a semi-hard dick
I feel more singled out than Chris Hardwick

chris erectI studied Bach, Jacques Chirac, and Isaac Asimov
But I wasn’t on the ski bus jerking people off
Wouldn’t let you touch my chest like you’re Vapo rubbing Vicks in
Let alone deep throat your Tricky Dick Nixon

I wanna learn how to make your Watergates flow
I’m resigned like Spiro Agnew that I might never know
How to HJ your LB Johnson
Know less about dicks than Samantha Ronson

I should have explored New Frontiers like Wil Wheaton
But I was more conservative than Alex P. Keaton
I’ve fallen into crisis just like the Dow
I wanna give a handjob but I don’t know how

handjob geniuses

Hand job, Bland job
I-Don’t-Understand job
Do I spit, do I squeeze, do I ever touch the top?
How can I learn when you always make me stop?

Now I’m on a full-blown investigation
To unlock the secrets of ejaculation
I need a translator like I’m reading Balzac
To crack the Rosetta Stone over your ball sack

balls 8 ballThe top is the part that confuses me the most
It looks like a Silly Putty Pac Man ghost
Sometimes it’s jello jiggling, sometimes it’s denser
But they all look like a Darth Vader Pez dispenser

Like Sam Jackson, I’m not as good with Shaft
When it’s soft and flabby like President Taft
It’s like a deep south queen that you wanna make straight
Will I make it upright if I move it like a Shake Weight?

jerk off practiceMove it like a Shake Weight
Move it like a Shake Weight

I’m pumping like breaks that aren’t anti-lock
Trying not to go psycho on your Alfred Hitchcock
I go a little faster and then I retard
It’s like a hamster that you don’t wanna squeeze too hard

I’m working my hand ’til it gets arthritis
I’ll be holdin’ ’til I get the Golden Touch of Midas
“I think, therefore I am”; getting my Descartes on
‘Til I fully comprehend your Marcia Gay Hard-on

clay penis handBut the biggest, throbbing question all’s
Seriously, what do you do with the balls?
Do I roll ‘em like dice, do I mold them like clay
Do I tickle them like Elmo, or throw ‘em like a partay?

Do I move ‘em all around or cup it slow?
It’s like the two bald critic puppets from the Muppet show
Just sitting there cranky and superfluous
How ’bout I don’t touch them unless you insist?

fairy tale dick no way hand

Hand job, Bland job
I-Don’t-Understand job
Do I spit, do I squeeze, do I ever touch the top?
How can I learn when you always make me stop?
How can I learn when you always make me stop?

hand job degree

 Lyrics by Garfunkel & Oates

Seriously Choo Choo? I Would Have Seen The Train Had His Dick Not Been So Big

 train me suckOnline dating and blogging are like bleach and ammonia. Alone they’re fairly noxious, but together they’re deadly.

My knack for the keen over share is not alone, I am in good company. These days you can’t swing a dead cat around cyberspace without bumping into someone that has a dating blog.  So how is my blog any different?

penis talent suckOkay. Aside from that. 

plushie elephant suckAnd that.  What’s your point?

There is some sort of twisted American redemptive arc implicitly stipulating that any woman who talks about her sex life publicly must eventually find her Prince with a big cock and live happily ever after (white horse optional). But on the way to that happy ending, she must first tear through cock like a blind contestant without scissors on a lost X-rated episode of Project Runway.  No dick must go unhumped with every salacious detail accounted for.  “YOU HAVE A BLOG FOR GOD’S SAKE!  YOU NEED CONTENT AND THAT DICK AIN’T GONNA SUCK ITSELF.  LET’S GO… CHOP CHOP.”

snarky promo married blog promo

I started this blog on a lark as a creative process.  As it gained followers, it kind of took on a life of its own.  It has at times provided me more comfort (largely in part because of all of you) than a boyfriend would have.  There have been times I have felt married to it.  Despite the various times I have contemplated divorce, it has also provided many opportunities I otherwise would have not embarked on.  Opportunities like performing outside cyberspace in radio and the comedy stage. But that in itself presents other bucket of problems. 

blog buckets of crap suck

Let’s see where to begin.  Well, one obvious bucket is the fact that, at times, I write a sexually charged blog.  That of course brings out the usual cast of characters and their endless offers to pull a tongue muscle on my clit until I’m drowning in a puddle of pussy pudding.  Sometimes those offers are made right before my gent’s eyes. Jealously issues tend to creep up when a boyfriend sees that you are up to your arm pits in swinging meat swords.  

paul suck dicks clerksI’m not looking for just a fuck, contrary to what my writing might conjure up in one’s overactive imagination. I love sex, but that doesn’t mean I’m just going to drop my stockings and waggle my cooter around for any jackbag that’s looking for an easy entry. 

Then there is the matter of balancing my blog anonymity with my performing life and outside world.  You kinda lose a little office cred when your nickname is Snarky Snatch.

There is also the complex world of my performing life.   Any female comic who is bold enough show up with a vagina and sit through 2 hours of shitty, “edgy” jokes about how she deserves to be raped and murdered because she left the house with THAT VAGINA, has more than her job cut out for her. Men get constant approbation and encouragement for their “humor” while women are censored from an early age, encouraged to be less “loud,” less “vulgar” and more “lady.”

small dick joke 2 suckNotoriously it is assumed that if a woman is pretty, they won’t be funny.  One obvious explanation is that every time a woman tries to tell a joke, an invisible dream-catcher telescopes out of her vagina and snatches that joke from the air.  Another idea is that like most everything else, men do it better.  The male comic genius rejoices: “I’m a Maverick!  I got rape jokes in my deck!” Then he jumps in the air like he won some sort of dick lottery.

As a comedy writer, hyperbole can be expected but inevitably your private life works into your routine. There is no way around it.  It’s like having a ticket to ride on a crazy train of love but you never get a schedule for it’s next arrival.  Without any warning it arrives and snatches you up. The wheels sing of shared secrets as they roll down the track.  Mocking your pain with each clickety-clack. 

Not every man is cut out for that type of ride. So it takes a special gent grounded enough in himself, and the reality of a relationship, to deal with the fact that I over share my life.  One that allows me to be a person that operates outside of the spectrum of things I’ve written about.  For that reason, I often hide that part of my life from him.

Which brings us to the point of this post.  There is no easy way to say this…

crazy train crash Ryker has discovered my blog.  I guess my Snatch was trending the other week and it was referred to him by someone or maybe he found it the usual way…. Googling Cow Cunnilingus.  It doesn’t matter.  The train has left the station and it derailed into one big fiery heap.   He found articles that I wrote about him and our sex romps without his permission.  Even though they were flattering, he now thinks he is nothing more to me than blog fodder.”  It gets worse.  He found articles I wrote about Garret and Jax.

FINE SORTA suck

so touchyOh really?  I realize entertainment can be found in the winter of my discontent but if you were dating me, would you enjoy reading stuff like this:

blog reaction blogI can’t believe it!  Out of 152 million blogs out there in cyberspace, (mine with less then 5,000 followers), he happens to stumble upon my train wreck of vodka induced musings?  There was no denying it because he came across pictures of my Snarky Snatch ass on its pages.  Not that I would lie to him at this point.  I just never imaged him finding it on his own.  It hurt him.  I hurt him.  I hurt him bad.

fucked up now blog suck

Gee, thanks Captain Obvious.  I am well aware of the damage I caused.

And don’t worry about me. 

blog  misery suck

I’m fine really.

There’s a saying that goes something like, “If it happened to you, it’s yours to write about. There is also a saying that, “The truth will set you free. But first, it will piss people off.” Through trial and error (and a few pending law suits), I have learned to write when in the moment.  I write when the feeling is the most raw or the pain is most palpable.  I write when I find myself at a keyboard and it’s pouring out of me and I really don’t give a fuck how many views it gets because it’s rich in honesty.   I write when I’m emotional or angry and edit when I’m not. Sometimes I allow posts to sit and marinate awhile before publishing them to the masses.  

bloggy katIf you are part WordPress you already know that you don’t need to be in an ashram to get in touch with your feelings.  That is what the blog is for.   The blog serves as a sponge sopping up your emotional vomit.  It isn’t as though one forgets that they are publishing raw feelings/experiences for the world to see. There is kind of a sick addictive quality in knowing that fact.  The purging of those musings for public consumption and commentary make it all the more cathartic. For those of you that also blog maybe you can relate?  It is kind of like pressing the “PUBLISH” button is like flushing all the emotional vomit chunks down the drain. Though I hate to vomit, it always feels better after I do.

Show me a female writer today who has dared to write about sex and love — honestly or humorously — who has not been compared to Carrie Bradshaw and I’ll show you a diehard Sex In The City fan getting bitch slapped by a pair of tits.   Hell.  I will show that anyway.

boob slapInject wit or cynicism, a pun, a play on words or a joke, and you are not yourself, you are Carrie Bradshaw. I would rather be compared to a bucket of bleach.  I found the show vapid and the characters too on the nose. Bradshaw wrote like something I drew with my left hand. Hearing her nuggets of wisdom on matters of the heart makes Jessica Simpson look like the reincarnation of Keats.

kat art trainsThe positive side about being a sex blog writer is that I am not.   I am barely even a writer.  I am more a comedic performance artist.  In an Andy Warhol meets Andy Kaufman style, I take over the top sexual themes and throw them back in society’s face. I provide a window to the ridiculous ways we choose to connect with others.  In its layered multi-media approach, this blog creates a slingshot centripetal narrative that puts a microscope on the stain of humanity. Sometimes it is fused with glimpses of my own personal journeys and over sharing. At times that over share is like a wound that is scabbed over. I don’t like picking scabs anymore than I like revisiting past posts. Some scabs leave scars visible enough so I don’t need the written reminder of rereading them.

blog delete suckFor each person there is a sentence—a series of words—which has the power to destroy him.  I have been here before. Gents that walk away once they found out about my second skin. Many have seemed supportive initially, until they read something they don’t like or become unable to distinguish a difference between the woman and the performer/ vixen of cyberspace. Then cue my tears, my unwarranted apologies, him declaring he isn’t going to read my writing anymore and telling me my work makes me a whore.

blog glue suckAs Ryker combs through these pages he will no doubt read things he wish he hadn’t.  That may change the landscape of things. I have my own self to blame for not telling him sooner.  No use crying over spilled lube because it is all revealed now… scabs…. scars and all.  And Ryker, if you are reading this now please know I am sorry. Scars remind us of where we have been but they don’t have to dictate where we are going.  

attractedYou have never been a writing assignment.  Our conversations have been best served at 3am. The heavier the eyelids, the sincerer the words. Those are the talks we’ll remember. It’s okay not to know the answers and the silence is not awkward.  It’s shared.  Those conversations remain sacred and always will.  I always wanted a man that would enliven me. Someone who’s going to push my boundaries who won’t settle for the mundane, embolden me to do the unimaginable because he genuinely believes I can.  I hope you can separate the Kat, from the Snarky in the Snatch.

k and p suck“Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and living alone won’t either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You are here to risk your heart. You are here to be swallowed up. And when it happens that you are broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes near, let yourself sit by an apple tree and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness. Tell yourself you tasted as many as you could.” ~ Louise Erdrich, The Painted Drum  

This emotional crap was brought to you by:  iShit. 

suck emotional spiral brought to you by

And by…..

brought to you by Tampax shark weekOne more thing…

distance train suck