Tag Archives: girlfriend

Cause Baby Now We’ve Got Bad Breath

A couple weeks ago at work I got so busy that I literally had no time to eat anything. My stomach, normally accustomed to snacks every minute or so, was freaking the fuck out. When I finally returned to the office after running errands, I grabbed the first edible thing I could find: Mustard and Onion chips. Seeing as it was 5 PM and they were the first thing I had eaten all day, they tasted like freedom, or early retirement, or Zac Efron’s nipples. I ate a bag and a half before dusting myself off and retreating to my desk, where my horrified coworkers recounted watching something similar on Animal Planet.

Exhausted from the day, I was ecstatic to see Boyfriend when I got home. Now, I had just absorbed a shit ton of Mustard and Onion artificial flavor, which in hindsight should have been a red flag for me to keep my mouth shut until I got near some mouth wash. But I remained blissfully unaware, ignoring those flags like the pile of unopened envelopes on my kitchen table from something called the DWP. When I finally saw Boyfriend, I jumped all over him, kissed him a bunch of times, and told him all about my day, much to his utmost horror. Looking back, I can recognize the signs of him turning his head away from me every time I spoke, subtly trying to hide his gagging, and generally keeping a distance of at least fifteen feet from me. But in the moment, I was content to exhale my toxic fumes all over the place.

That night we walked to Ralph’s together and while I browsed the aisles, picking out the items from our grocery list, he zoomed to the check out. When we met up again, I had our groceries and he had one thing: tic-tacs. “Why did you get tic-tacs?” I inquired. “Those weren’t on the list.” “Because…………” Boyfriend is bad at making excuses. “Because?” “Just……..because.” “Uh, okay.” As we walked home, he produced the tic-tacs and ate one. He offered me a handful. “Want some?” He was holding at least six in his hand. “Why? Do I have bad breath or something?” “Uh……..” It was then the night flashed before my eyes. The avoiding, the head-turning, the gagging. “Wait. I DO have bad breath?!” I was mortified. How could I not see it? Mustard and fucking Onion?! I don’t even know why that flavor exists! The only time someone would need Mustard and Onion simultaneously is if they were a hot dog in desperate need of condiments. I hate-spiraled the rest of the way back, convinced that there was no longer a situation in the future where Boyfriend could find me sexy. Not after he smelled my lovely aroma reminiscent of raccoons diarrheaing in a garbage can. When we returned I brushed my teeth so many times my gums started bleeding, which only made my appearance more disgusting (“Love me” I cried as blood poured out of my mouth, or something like that). Luckily for me, Boyfriend has forgotten about the whole incident and we’ve moved on (I think the sharp blow to his head I administered to induce short term memory loss helped).

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Anal Sex…It Happened

Let me begin by saying that people are free to do whatever they want to do and I will not judge them for enjoying, as a friend put it, “taking it up the poop chute”. If that’s what you’re into, I totally support you for being you and enjoying your chosen recreational activities. But I can certainly judge myself, and I’m judging hardcore. I’m judging myself mostly for being very unprepared. Apparently, there is physical preparation to fully enjoy the anal sex experience (if you cringed while reading that I guarantee I cringed way worse while writing that). Like lube, and stretching, or something like that. I don’t know and I don’t care to google the details right now. There is also mental preparation. This involves thinking really hard about whether this is actually something you want to do. Here is an example thought you may want to have before doing the dirty: Do I really want someone up in the place I just excreted last night’s tacos? Now that I am an older, more mature person, I can definitively say, “No, I would like the path last night’s tacos took to remain unmolested by foreign objects.” But that’s now and I’m talking about then.

I’m talking about the Carly who decided with her boyfriend that doing it from behind would be a big turn on and, well, the rest of the story is incredibly painful to hear, but probably not as painful as it was for me to get an anal-sphincter-full of some guy’s dick. It felt like reverse constipation. I don’t even know if that makes sense, but that’s what it felt like. Maybe it’d be clearer to say it felt like I was birthing a baby out of my asshole. Or maybe that was just a more disgusting way to convey what I was feeling at that moment. Perhaps the worst part was that I was on someone’s couch when it happened. Not even my own couch. Which, now that I think about it, was probably for the best. I don’t know how the guy felt, but years later I have discovered that I have an apparently pretty hairy butthole, so it couldn’t have been that great for him either. The view was most likely akin to a bathroom sink drain after it has been clogged by a million hairs. By now, you’re already flooded with odious mental images at this point, so I’ll just finish you off by saying that afterwards I had painful diarrhea.

They say college is a time for experimentation. I think I can confidently say I experimented and my laboratory is now animal-cruelty-free and will no longer accept hypotheses dealing with objects entering assholes.

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