God Bless America, or HaShem or Allah or Hari or... Pt 2

And another big thing, although this is one huge, HUGE topic in America today, but at least we are facing it, is gay rights.  Ooooohhhh, don't EVEN get me started there.  

"Jamaicans, dubbed the most homophobic people on earth, has been known to have very low tolerance for homosexuals..." That's So Gay This article goes on to tell how gays were beaten at a festival.  

If I had been there, either those LGBTs wouldn't have been beaten, or the whole goddamn island would be sinking!  I'd be raising Hell, dropping Heaven, and exploding this whole fucking planet for the gays!  Green, red, and yellow?  I'd be painting orange, purple, and blue on everything there, too.  They'd be all "Damn, this weed is bad.  Yes problem, yes problem, mon."  

They have "Smile" and "Irie" written on everything over there.  I'd be putting a whole new meaning to those things!

And maybe America isn't for you, and that's fine.  There are flaws with it, just as there are flaws with anything that has a group of humans involved in it.  But that doesn't make it a bad country, and that sure hell doesn't make the rest of the world better.  

God Bless America, or HaShem or Allah or Hari or... Pt 1

It seems to me that either you hate the USA or you love it. There are two people in particular whom I have talked about their opinions on America (negative) in the past week or two and feel like I should formally address why I love America, and why I would never live where they are from.  Although the American government is not in good terms with everybody (or maybe anybody), there are positives that happen here.

One of my biggest things is women's rights.  I would like to take a moment to quote a website that elaborates on some of the international issues women go through.
"Women aren’t allowed to drive in Saudi Arabia, are subject to genital mutilation in Mali and are killed for honor in Pakistan." Girl Power!! If you click on that, it should open a new window, just heads up!

Alright, let's ignore the fact that people in Mali are sooo not getting laid, like, ever!

I mean, could you imagine someone like me in Saudi Arabia?  NOT being allowed to DRIVE?!??? I fucking drive for serenity, it's my pacifier.  If I went there, and couldn't drive, I'd be like Bitch PMSing all the damn time.  "Let me just tell you what women can and cannot do, motherfucker.  Know who commits the most gruesome murders?  That's muthafuckin' right bitch, WE DO?  You want to stop me from driving, I'm'a stop you from breathin' you jackass..."

Of course, hopefully whomever I was cussing at didn't understand English or I probably would never even get to finish that fabulous and awesome speech... 

Cop Took A Pic With A Woman Smoking Ganja

Sometimes, I realize just how slow I am to take so long to realize things.  I had an online diary for years.  Most of its contents were often-times herb-related.  There are also a handful of these blogs that are herb-related.  I mean, if I were an outsider, I would swear I was a pothead.  And yet, I still failed to see the irony in the vacation I took this past week.

After getting off the plane, walking to the bus with a stuffy nose, I wasn't too surprised to see a Bob Marley sticker at the front of the bus.  But when my nose could smell every now and then I got that amazing smell of ganja.  It's like making out with him after he's been smoking, and tasting it on his breath.  Almost makes me want to smoke.

And then it hits me.  Of all the places I could have ended up, the only reason I ended up here was because I was tired of looking and just said yes to my traveling companions when they suggested it.  Jamaica.

Of course a pot-head unlike myself would end up here!  It's ironic because I was the one who said let's go somewhere, but NOT the one to declare the final destination.  I feel like a kid at a candy store, except the candy is too high for me to reach (excuse the pun), and even if I do reach it, if the wrong person catches me, I could end up in a very unpleasant corner for a very, very long time.

But I mean, it is a duty as a pothead to smoke ganja in a new place whenever you get the chance so that you can go tell all your pothead friends either how good it is, or how good it's not.  It is simply common pothead courtesy.

Good thing I'm not a pothead!

P.S. The title is totally true.  Day 4 of the trip.  Again, excuse the pun.

Second Plane of Thoughts

(Continued)

During my second flight, turbulence hit.  As the plane swayed playfully from side to side, I would feel a small pocket of warmth on my elbow when my side was in the right angle.  In this moment, my thoughts played out something like this, "Oh, sunlight!  So warm!!  Aw, gone... Oh, sunlight! Aw, gone..." Repeat, repeat, repeat.

I mean, honestly.  I'm not sure why anyone would want to get inside my head!  Even if you did, you may find yourself quite disappointed.  So for those of you who think I'm all complex and intellectual and deep and shit... well... have fun with those thoughts, but these are mine!

First Plane of Thoughts

I have had people all my life say they want to know what goes on inside my head.  Well, there's a brain, and lots of blood, and icky stuff, and cords... As far as my thoughts go, however, that is, well, it may actually not be all that different, now that I think about.

This past Monday, I was traveling and had to take a connecting flight to my destination.  This means I boarded and rode in a total of two planes.  The first plane I rode, I remember having this thought.  Now, I could (and probably should) have been thinking of many things.  I probably should have had these sort of thoughts:

I can't believe I missed my plane, now I'm going to arrive late!  Will I be OK alone?
How much time will I have to make it to my next flight... 15 minutes??  In an airport so huge?
Did I pack everything?  Let's see.  Soap, check.  Dresses, check.  Shoes...
I wonder if they serve alcohol on here, and how much it'd cost.
I have to read almost two thousand pages within three weeks, maybe I should get started.
Am I getting a sinus infection?  My head feels like it's ripping with all this pressure!
Should I tell him I'm gay?  Or that I was naturally born a dude?  Maybe he'll stop looking at me.

But no, that is not where my head was, at all.  What I was thinking was, "Holy shit. There is a freckle.  On the inside of my middle finger.  How the hell is that even possible?  I didn't know you would even get freckles on that part of your skin.  It's so small.  Is it really a freckle?  Ow.  Ow.  Ow.  Ow.  Ok, it isn't coming off, so it must be a freckle.  Like, really?  I just don't understand.  Don't freckles have something to do with sun?  I haven't even been out in the sun lately!"

(To be continued)

Dear Jay,

I am writing to you while waiting to board my plane, so please dismiss the grammatical errors I know you'd be happy to call me out on. (This fact is almost embarrassing since his accent is more pronounced than mine. If we keep saying that people in America should speak English, than shouldn't we stop being hypocrites and learn proper English ourselves? Just saying...)

Anyways, I hope you are not humping the whole town while I am away, but if you are, please wear a condom.  And I know, as the whole world knows, that your roommate is your secret lover, but if I see my thongs stretched out to the size of his hips on your bedroom floor, we will really have to have a serious discussion.

Also, and I cannot stress this enough, HAVE HIM REMOVE THOSE PICTURES OF ME OFF FACEBOOK!!!! I have told u before and I shall tell u again, if they are still up by the time I get back, I swear I will chop him up into thin pieces, throw him in some Masala and force him down your throat for supper! I don't even know what the fuck Masala means, or how the hell autocorrect knows that word and not except but what the duck ever! I'll find a way to make it happen!!

And don't be looking at these words with a sideways glance, that thing you do with your eyes, and your hand at your jaw. I can't see it so your cuteness won't work on me this time!

میں آپ کی کمی محسوس کرتا ہوں

Now I don't actually know what the fuck that means, but I'm assuming I'm not saying something random like the cow is doing the waltz in the couch or something like that. But if I did copy that right from my unreliable source, just know it's not something I like to say and it'll probably be the only time I'll ever say it. Or in this case, blindly write it. But whatever.

Sincerely tired and hungry,

Yours,

Jess

Never Tell Her You're Manscaping

Ok, so I'm fucking this guy, right?

HAHA, I'm just kidding, I'm not starting off the blog with that.  Well, technically I am, but I'm not writing about me fucking this guy.  I am writing about a guy who likes to fuck, though, and a conversation we had.

He told me about how he just saved his pubes.  Part of me almost feels guilty to write this, because maybe he didn't want a whole world of bloggers to know these intimate details, but hey, it's not like I haven't written about this guy before!

Since I actually have not deleted these text messages yet, I will actually quote, word for word, our conversation.  I'm sure if he reads this blog, he'll either laugh or hate me, but hey, he knows about what I do, fair game, buddy, FAIR FUCKING GAME!

HIM:  So I manscaped for the first time since high school...I feel itchy

(skipping boring part of conversation)

ME (hehe, this is ironic...): Y is that?

HIM:  Dunno.  Didnt feel like do it.  Had  replaceable razor I was like YOLO

(part of me would like to make a whole blog about the stupidity of YOLO, but maybe I'll save that one for later)

ME:  Ooh lol well whomever is sucking ur dick will certainly appreciate it.

(skipping a little more)

HIM:  Nobody suvked my dick un a very looooong time lol

(skip)

ME:  Ur upposed to be whore!!  How dare u disappoint me!!!!

HIM: Meh

Ok, gentlemen, although some of you guys can get a way with it, just so you know, it just isn't that appealing to suck a guys junk when he doesn't shave.  Why?  It shouldn't be that big of a deal, right?  But the truth is, we smell all that yummy sweat and guy juices you've been building up.  Yeah.  I mean, half of you have probably been with chics who haven't shaved, so I'm sure you feel the pain.  For the half who haven't, find a fucking razor and learn how to use it, geez!