Interesting Bullshit Factoid:


A female ferret will die if it goes into heat and cannot find a mate. (nature's case for a one-night stand)

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Author Archive

Open Wide...and shut up

Open Wide...and shut up

I am confident that the key to happier relationships between men and women rests in one simple skill:

A woman’s understanding of when she should open up and shut up versus pet the puppy.

Let’s be honest: a woman could gift-wrap a blowjob and give it to her man for eight days straight at Hanukkah. And he’d never ask for anything else…except possibly a back rub and another blowjob later.

And then there are times where all your partner wants is your ear. His day sucked, he fired someone, your three-year-old tossed cookies on his work shirt. Whether the Yankees lost or he lost four hours of his day to some “stupid fucking database error” <blink blink>, he needs to vent and honey – you’re handy.  At times like these, they don’t really want to hear what we think. They just need reassurance. They’re puppies in need of petting. And they need YOU to do it. Those sweet, manly puppy dog eyes looking up at you…how can you say no?

For all the whining that womankind does regarding the lack of oral sex and mankind’s affinity for sports and the remote control, wouldn’t it be more productive (and orgasmic) for us to play on their field every now and then?

We gals – and a powerful, intelligent bunch we are – tend to do a lot of thinking about what they’re thinking.

Why won’t he talk to me? Is he mad at me? Was it something I did? Can I fix it? Am I fat? Does this skirt make my ass look fat? Maybe he’s pissed at me because he thinks my ass looks fat in this skirt! Well, I’ll show him. Fucker. He can get his own dinner! I’m going upstairs to write a bitchy email to six of my girlfriends because he thinks I’m fat and doesn’t love me for who I am. He’s probably fucking his secretary.

Just. Stop. It’s really not that complicated.

Stop thinking it’s always about you and acknowledge: yeah, it can actually be about him. Instead of buying new lip gloss or a dress you think he’ll notice, why not give him the killer combination that will have him look at you like the rock star chick you are: reassurance and a blowjob.

He’s awesome/right/they’re wrong/yes, that sucks/no, he’s not crazy – but he wants to hear it from you.

He knows you’re a smart cookie – but sometimes, he needs you to go back to the Symbolic Logic course you took in college and work out the following If/Then statement:

If Man is frustrated (or breathing) and woman gives him a blowjob then he is happy.

or

If Man is frustrated and woman gives him reassurance without trying to “talk,” then he’d appreciate a blowjob (and will then be content).

Bottom line: sometimes guys just don’t want to hear us talk. Stop thinking that guys want to “talk.” Generally speaking, they don’t. They’d be just as happy with one of two things: reassurance and/or a blowjob.

This isn’t demeaning or belittling a woman’s strength and fortitude as an intelligent and equal partner. Admit it: sometimes we don’t want to hear THEM talk. Sometimes we just want a back rub or a foot massage or for them to not stand in front of the fridge and drink the OJ out of the carton right in front of the kids. But our feminine talents for deductive reasoning and emotive response give us an edge when it comes to understanding there’s a delicious power that stems from our sympathetic nature coupled with our sexuality. It’s not objectifying women or making the case that we’re not valued by men for our conversational skills, intelligence and accomplishments. On occasion, however, our needs (and those of our partners) are a bit more primal and have nothing to do with intelligence. If we spent more energy on accepting men for being male and women for being women, we’d have a lot more energy to romp in the sack. Just sayin’.

It doesn’t mean you shouldn’t bring up the stuff that’s bugging you or pissed you off. But instead of launching into an instantaneous, petty tirade about how much of a dick he’s being, cool off a bit. If it still pisses you off 24 hours later, then you can have a “talk.” It’s likely to be a more productive talk and one that will lead to his reciprocation in some hawt make-up sex following.

And yes – he’ll still want the blowjob.

Evil fucking bus of despair. Apparently.

Evil fucking bus of despair. Apparently.

Last week I was in Las Vegas. No debauchery, no (overly) lewd behavior. I was attending a convention. And on Sunday, stuck for a ride to Summerlin - which lies West of The Strip, I rode the bus.

Yes, the bus. The B-U-S.

And I realized: man, some people are judgmental motherfuckers.

Content to walk anywhere (hell, I’ve climbed Rainier, Whitney and Kilimanjaro…walking is NOTHING), I rolled my little carry-on suitcase and toted my laptop bag about a half mile from my brunch joint to the bus stop on Desert Inn and Paradise. Along the way, I witnessed – and was subject to – some nastiness.

At one point, some collegiate scholars leaned out the rolled-down window of their rented Ford Mustang convertible and shouted, “Get a car, girlie!” (Girlie?) At another, I had a J. Crew-clad empty-nester glare at me and swing wide of my position at the bus stop. I assure you that I had showered that morning and taken care with my hair and makeup. I actually looked kinda cute in my own estimation. I’d have fucked me.

It was evident that, to some on foot and others propelled by hot air and gasoline, I was bus-riding scum. Worth less because I was hopping on board an air-conditioned ride that took me directly to my destination for a whopping $1.75 instead of a $45 cab fare.

When I boarded the bus, however, no one looked at me differently. There I was with a huge box of condoms (promo pieces/business cards for my Dear Redhead column with ToyWithMe.com) and two other bags, but not one weird glance was lobbed in my direction while on the bus. I like the bus folk.

Life smacks you every now and then, and I’m glad I rode the bus on Sunday. I’m also glad for the douchebag-driven remark and onion-sniffing wrinkled nose of the fifty-something ex-debutante that passed me by. Makes you think twice about judging a book by its cover – and to be honest, what’s wrong with the bus anyway? I got to sit and think for the thirty minute ride and jot notes for future blog posts while fresh in my mind. All this while staring across the way at a teenage boy wearing a shirt that simply said “Yeah” and sitting next to a little girl who wanted to see what I was typing on my iPhone. So I loaded up Pee Monkey and let her play with it.

I’ll be bus-riding scum every day if I get to see that smile.

Categories : Redhead Rants

You’re irreverent. Some people may even call you an asshole. Your ex-boyfriends call you a bitch. With the holiday season upon us, I thought it would be a great idea to make a list of gifts that actually let you express who you are instead of who Hallmark would like you to be.

Give a Flying Fuck

I shared this on Twitter this week and it got more retweets than a picture of Sarah Palin’s beaver. Actually, this is better than Sarah Palin’s beaver. It’s the answer for all those who could never previously give a flying fuck. Well, now you can. For £17.99 (roughly $28 USD), you can give your boss, father-in-law or other loved one the most portable fuck possible – available at Play.com (UK customers only, dammit all). Batteries are, naturally, not included.

Finally - you can give a flying fuck

Finally - you can give a flying fuck

Feck the Halls

Every year when you set up the Christmas tree, you say it. Some people say it more than others. In my house, it was one of dad’s favorite words at the holidays! Why not keep family traditions alive with this fabulous F-bomb ornament from Urban Outfitters? Sure, the stocking were hung by the chimney with care, but you hit your fucking thumb with the hammer in the process, right?

FuckOrnament

Decorate according to YOUR standards

Attitude on the Go

Where’s your flying fuck when you need it? Carry it with you and never be at a loss again with this adorable Angry Flower Tote from Zazzle.com. Starting at only $25.15 (and you can always find Zazzle coupons here), give that irreverent girl – or flamboyant, irreverent gay man – in your life a tool that they can really use this holiday season? (Perfect for porting fucking menorahs and the damn challah bread over the Hanukkah season, too!)

Carry your attitude with you

Carry your attitude with you

#Fbombing Awesome Gift

Everyone knows The Redhead swears like a George Carlin Wannabe according to CurseBird.com. Why not get that fan-fucking-tastic person their very OWN Curse Bird this year? This awesome t-shirt from T-Shirt Hell starts at only $19 and is available in both men’s and women’s styles. It’s more attractive than a Fail Whale and something to throw on when you’re doing the Walk of Shame.

Get your very own Curse Bird

Get your very own Curse Bird

You Gave Me a Fucking Book?

Give the twisted scholar (or perhaps, your mother) an academic account of the f-bomb. Documented over 320 pages, The F Word by Jesse Sheidlower rests on The Redhead’s bookshelf already. A steal at $16.95 list, those local to Denver can pick it up at the Tattered Cover (who recently hosted a signing event for Mr. Sheidlower, though I was getting laid that night so I wasn’t so broken up over missing the event). If you’re not local to Denver, buy it from the Tattered Cover anyway and support independent booksellers. Maybe you’ll see a book by me in one of them soon.

The best fucking book you'll buy all year

The best fucking book you'll buy all year

Another Fucking Book

From the book itself: Dirty Talk – Trust me, she wants it. If she didn’t, she’d fuck a mime. Speaking of, did you know Marcel Marceau was divorced three times? Enough said. That’s my kinda gal. Eve Kingsley’s Just Fuck Me is the ideal gift for your pansified rugby pals or your girlfriends who bitch (but apparently don’t moan) about an uninteresting sex life. And a cheap fucking gift, at that (list price $14.95).

Nice cover art...

Nice cover art...

Make Your Own Fucking Greeting Card

While Someecards.com is where you can find classic e-cards like “The only reason I would kick you out of bed would be to to fuck you on the floor” and “Let’s safeguard ourselves against swine flu by only doing it doggie style,” you can now create your own twisted greetings. Choose from hundreds of stock images and background colors and get randy this holiday season! Finally – a fucking e-card that doesn’t have duckies and bunnies on it. Unless you’re into that. And for all of you frugal motherfuckers, Someecards.com is FREE.

Disclaimer: This is possibly the best e-card I've ever received. Period.

Disclaimer: This is possibly the best e-card I've ever received. Period.

Give a “Go Fuck Yourself”

OK, so maybe this is on my Christmas/birthday list. But isn’t the Lelo Elise vibrator the sexiest little toy you’ve ever seen? Not only will your kids not know it’s a vibrator, but your partner won’t be jealous of it because you’re a 120lb white girl and you can finally get rid of that 10″ vibrating piece of flesh you’ve had in the bedside table drawer for 3 years. Disclosure: I am a compensated columnist for ToyWithMe.com, but they have not given me a vibrator as compensation for the link love. I just think it’s the prettiest little “go fuck myself” I’ve ever seen. And I think the girl in your life just might agree with me.

It's the prettiest little "fuck you" I've ever seen

It's the prettiest little "fuck you" I've ever seen

***Special thanks to Will Price for turning me on to a couple of these gift ideas. How well my friends know me.