I'm not really sure how it happened.

Actually, I do know how it happened.

Surfer Guy and I were rolling on ecstasy one night and we got to talking about my kinks and fetishes list.

SG: That I was a pretty cool list, but I meant to ask... I didn't see anything on there about rimjobs... how do you feel about that?
Me: I'm down! Are you into anal play? On you, I mean?
SG: Well, sure... it's a definite erogenous zone, for sure.

Fast forward to being naked in his bedroom, with a porn DVD playing on every TV in his condo. I'm going down on him and I tell him to turn around and bend over, to which he happily obliged. I planted my face in his ass while jerking him off (also known as the rusty trombone), and I'm thinking I had my face buried in his pooper for a good twenty minutes.

We move up on the bed, and at some point or another (while I was on the phone with a friend of mine, I think), I told him to finger me.

I felt one finger.

Then two.

Then three.

And I was yapping away on the phone, I felt the airspace get a little too tight (if you know what I mean), and I asked, 'Dude, how many fingers do you have in there?'

SG: Uh. All of them.
Me: Whoa, really?
SG: Yeah. This is kind of cool. I have never had this many fingers in a girl.
Me: Sweet!

I was curious as to why he would stick his entire hand in my vagina. Then I remembered a conversation we had a few weeks prior -- something along the lines of, 'Got any lube? Let's see how many fingers you can fit in my crotch!'

I went back to yapping and at some point or another, I handed the phone off to Surfer Guy so I could continue blowing him, and then I hung up -- while going down on him.

SG: Why don't you stick a finger in there?
Me: OK!

So, in porno-fashion, I hawked a volley of saliva into his back-door canal and stuck a finger in there. Then I opened up the bottle of lube with my one good hand and drizzled a little bit on the surface.

He went absolutely fucking crazy.
More...

I have a third sister who found Jesus, "thanks" to the help of her boyfriend a few months ago. She studied the bible, went to bible study, eventually got baptised, and now make's going to church a regular part of her life. Then, being a big girl, she lost a lot of weight (by admitted self-starvation and cardio exercise) and her attitude changed. Ever since then, she has had this extremely crabby attitude with me - unbearable to the point of where I never want to speak to her again. It was speculated she was not only using diet pills, but also using meth to assist with her weight loss as it had become an obsession. Again, it was all circumspect and I had nothing to prove it with.

We got into a fight today via text message while she was at church that ended with us agreeing to never speak to each other again. I kept thinking, "Knowing her, there is always some kind of underlying hypocrisy. I wonder what it is?" 

Just a few minutes ago, I woke up from a nap and checked my email to find one from my old male roommate, whom I had lived with a year and a half ago.

 

ok so i'm trolling CL last night and see a girl post an ad saying that she's come across hard times and will do cleaning, cooking, whatever for money. feeling like an ass, i write her back and ask if she'll do nude cleaning. she writes me back and says she'll do whatever i want.

then i put 2 and 2 together. i just looked and can't seem to find her ad anymore

her name is [sister's name redacted] and her email is [email address redacted]
it's your fucking sister!!!! hahahaha. i promise i won't write her back.

 

Awesome. 

I've come to the painful realization that I'm not a very good rape victim, for I am way too willing in the act. I don't put up much of a struggle because I am so engrossed in getting harpoon-slammed by the poon-harpoon and I climax every five minutes that my partner slaps me or spits in my face.

What can I do?

 

Narrow maritime border, indeed.

I also wonder if the phrase "Putin rears his head" is a political colloquialism for "I'm a fucking retard?"

Since I've been getting inundated with email requests for photos, I decided to cave in and post a few.

Check 'em out in the forums under my thread!

(I've always been a self-proclaimed twinkie: yellow on the outside, white on the inside - and it's not because of the gobs of semen that has been unloaded into my snatch. So tell me, which kind of Asian are you?)

 Young Asians in America come in many forms. Below are the major categories. Most Asians fit into multiple groups. For example, Rice-boys can also be Fobs and many Tabs are Fobulous. The only groups that are never part of another group are the Twinkies and the Asian-Americans. Claim your Fobbiness! When you see your Asian friend, greet them with "Wassup Fob!" And if your Asian friend says something ridiculous, say "Fob please!" Of course, when a non-Asian calls you a Fob, that is grounds for a fight. Ahahaha... The categories below are to be taken lightheartedly. Read, recognize and laugh.

Twinkie
- Besides your nationality, there is little to distinguish you from white people
- Your significant other is not Asian and never has been
- You have few Asian friends, if any
- You are embarrassed at family events because you cannot speak your language and everyone has to switch to English to communicate with you
- You have no idea that the other types of Asians on this list even exist
- You think Hello Kitty is dumb and do not know what Sanrio is
- You are the only Asian on this list that does not know what Bubble Tea is
- You drive a Ford or some other domestic car and if you drive a Honda, it is stock

Asian-American
- You claim yourself as Asian, but real Asians think you're whitewashed and non-Asians see you as a foreigner. You fit in nowhere
- You have heard of Bubble Tea but have never actually had any
- You are confused about your cultural identity and express this frustration through spoken word performances at your college
- You read A. magazine and think it's great
- You do not know who Leon, Aaron, Sammi, Hikki, or Kangta are
- You are only vaguely aware of the other Asians below

Fob (Fresh Off tha Boat)
- You were not born in America
- You know who Leon, Aaron, Sammi, Hikki, and Kangta are. In fact, you have seen them at Atlantic City or Las Vegas recently
- You speak your native language fluently and so do all your friends
- You do not have any non-Asian friends
- Your parents do not speak any English
- When you speak English, you like to make everything plural
- You get extremely good grades in school
- You cannot dance
- Your fashion sense comes from whatever country you're from and you incorporate nothing from American fashion into your wardrobe

SuperFob
- Your command of the English language is minimal and you don't care
- You like dim sum chicken feet
- You do not own a single CD, VCD, Video game, or DVD that isn't bootlegged
- Your only hangout is Chinatown
- All the lights in your house are fluorescent
- You dry your cloths outside your window
- You need a haircut
- You either smell like cigarettes or food

Fobabee
- You are an Asian-American or Twinkie who has recently "awoken"
- You have a newly found fetish of Asian girls/boys
- You have taken the Asian Studies course at college
- You are trying to learn as much as possible about your culture to make up for your lifetime of trying to be white (Twinkie ; Banana) or Black (Chigger ; Thousand year old egg)
- If you are lucky, you will grow to become Fobulous

Gangsta Fob
- You have shot another Asian
- Your favorite hangout is a pool hall
- When you talk, you sound like a cross between a Fob and and urban black kid
- Your hair looks silly, but no one will tell you because you'll shoot them
- You have a serious gambling problem
- You are a Rice-boy, but your mods are cheap and are never painted to match the rest of your car
- No one tells you your rice ride looks cheap because you'll shoot them
- You want to have a Tab girlfriend, but can only get Hoochie Tabs

Tab (Trendy Asian B*tch)
- You shop at A/X, Bebe, Banana Republic and Club Monaco
- You only wear black and will occasionally wear white to "mix it up"
- You do not weigh more than 105 lbs
- You have never paid for dinner at a restaurant in your life
- Platform heels are your favorite
- You are a makeup expert, in fact, you appear completely flawless
- You do not smile in public
- You are the object of desire of all Asian men and you know it
- You smoke
- Your cell phone is completely customized
- On the inside flip of your cell phone is a sticker pic of you and your man
- Somewhere in your purse is a Sanrio item
- You only date Asian and will only date a boy with a nice car
- You are often seen with Rice-boys
- You never travel alone. You are either in the company of other Tabs or your Rice-boy boyfriend

Hoochie Tab
- You are an import car model
- Your boobs are not real
- There are naked pictures of you floating around on the internet somewhere
- Stiletto heels are your favorite
- Your role models are Francine Dee and Kaila Yu
- Your boyfriend is a Gangsta Fob
- You cheat on your boyfriend
- Unlike most Asians, you do not do well in school

Rice-Boy
- You drive an Asian import. Usually a Honda or Acura
- Your souped up car (known as a Rice-ride or Rice-rocket) is unrecognizable from it's original stock form
- Your exhaust pipe is big enough for your head to fit in
- The spoiler on your car looks like it was made by Boeing
- The interior of your car also looks like it was designed by Boeing
- You always drive like you are racing someone
- You are not afraid of dying in a crash, but you are afraid of speed bumps and parking lot on-ramps
- The only other person besides yourself who can sit in your car is your 105 lbs Tab girlfriend. If anyone else sits in your car, the entire bottom of it will be touching the ground
- Even though your car is a Honda, it goes faster and is worth more than a Lotus Esprit
- If you drive a Civic, your dream car is a Supra. If you drive a Supra, your dream car is a Skyline (which you can never have). Poor Rice-boy.

Fobulous
- You speak perfect English and you are fluent in your native language
- You have Asian friends as well as non-Asian friends
- You listen to Asian pop as well as American music
- You are equally aware of both popular American culture and Asian pop culture
- You are a good dancer
- You date Asian by choice even though you could rock the opposite sex of any other race
- You are a good designer and have superior Html skills
- You have an Apt107 page AND an AA page and the guest books in both are packed
- For you, FOB stands for Fabulous Oriental Being
- You have lots of Asian pride

I hate to say that I probably have more foreign policy than Sarah Palin.

A couple of months ago, I got a job working at an upscale convenience store called Famima!! (and yes, the double exclamation points are included in the title - I don't mind publishing the name of the company, as I am more than likely going to be quitting soon anyway). I took a step down from office management and procurement into retail so I could have some flexibility with my school schedule while making some money. I make just above minimum wage, which is fine, I don't have any major expenditures anymore.

This is my first time back in the retail industry in about three years, if you want to include the one month I worked at Cardiff Seaside Market in San Diego. Before that, it had been about a year or so before I worked in an industry that required face-to-face customer service. During the interim, I've had jobs where severe customer service was required over the phone, but that was no big deal. I could easily fake a visible facetious smile and still hang up with the customer as satisfied as ever.

I've been at my current job for two months for as long as it has been open (my first day was on the grand opening of the store), but within three weeks of working, I've had to deal with quite a few characters. Some of whom have learned, the hard way, that I am not a people person and not your typical customer service girl.

In three years, I have almost forgotten how awful retail customer service can be... and I'd like to share with you my stories of horrible customers, funny days at work, and other random happenings since I don't want to talk to anyone else about it.

1) A Jewish woman (I can pick them out of a crowd - don't ask) came in one day bearing one of our promotional, grand opening coupons for a free 12 ounce iced coffee.

Woman: Hi.
Me: Hi.
Woman: I have a coupon for a free 12 ounce coffee. I was wondering if I turned in the coupon and paid the difference, could I get a salad instead?

Uh, what?

Me: Uh. No.
Woman: Really? Are you sure?
Me: I'm positive. Really.
Woman: Oh, OK. Well, what if I just got a soda or something?

Can you not fucking read that the coupon is for COFFEE ONLY? You should be grateful that we're even giving it away for free, you wench!

Me: No, sorry.
Woman: Oh, OK. Well, what are these coupons for?

The coupons state, in bold print, that they are for a free 12 ounce coffee, iced or hot, and an all-beef hot dog for the amazing price of one dollar.

Are you fucking serious?

Me: Um. It's for a free 12 ounce iced or hot coffee and a one dollar hot dog.
Woman: Well, what if I just give you the coupon for the hot dog and get a salad instead?

I about blew a gasket. What the fuck was her obsession with having a cheap salad?

Me: No, sorry.
Woman: Oh, alright. I'll take a hot dog then.

I ring her up and tell her it's a dollar and I walk over to the hot dog grill, put some gloves on, and grab a bun. Right as I clip the frank between the tongs, she stops me.

Woman: You know what? Forget it, I changed my mind, I don't want the hot dog. Thank you anyway.

BITCH.

2) A gorgeous blonde girl walks in with her hipster boyfriend, who is a regular customer of mine. I'm pulling expired stock off of the shelves and right down the aisle from me is the "Ramune" (Japanese lemonade soda) section. Ramune comes in a strawberry and a melon flavor, as well as regular which is just the lemon-lime flavor. About fifteen minutes after mulling over which flavor they want, the girl walks up to me with a regular flavor Ramune.

Girl: Hi!
Me: Hi.
Girl: Excuse me, I was wondering... what's the regular flavor? What is this?
Me: It's lemonade... like, lemon-lime.
Girl: Oh, is that like lychee?

Did you hear what I just said?

Me: Uh. It's lemon-lime.
Girl: Huh.
Me: ...like Sprite.
Girl: Oh!

3) We sell Icee, subtitled as "Famima!! Freeze," at our store. We have three different flavors: Coca-Cola, Blue Raspberry, and the obligatory Cherry flavor. Our Icee machines have been kind of weird lately. Something happens to them so that it doesn't dispense properly, so we have to reboot the machine and shut it down for a few hours. When we do this, we put up a large "Out of Order" sign smack dab in the middle of the machine, which is right in front of the Blue Raspberry dispenser. It's quite clear when neither of the dispensers are working as the liquid just sits there and stops producing icy slush. Most of my customers have been good about realizing that when the product itself isn't spinning, then it isn't working.

One woman came in with her children while I was going back and forth between cleaning the backroom and ringing customers up. She came to the counter after I had finished ringing one customer up with her daughter in tow. Her daughter's clothes, face, and hands were covered in a mysterious shade of red.

Woman: Uh, hi. Are all of the Icee flavors out of order, or is it just the one in the middle?
Me: Um. All of them. When all of the dispenser displays stop spinning, it means they're not working. There's also an "Out of Order" sign on the machine.
Woman: Oh. Well, I didn't know if that was for the middle machine or for all of them.

Why didn't you just ask if you were unsure, dumbass?

Me [faking a smile]: Well, it's for all of them!
Woman [gruff attitude]: I see that now, and now my kid is filthy.

How is that my problem?

Me: There's a bathroom in the back, she can clean herself off.
Woman: Uh, you should put an "Out of Order" sign on all of them so everyone else can see it.
Me: Uh, just because you're stupid doesn't mean everyone else is.

I'm surprised I haven't been fired yet.

4) I've had five different people come in on the same day looking for soft-serve ice cream. But before asking me about it, they would actually browse each and every aisle looking for a soft-serve ice cream machine. When the fifth person, who was probably about 17 or 18, came in looking for it, he spent about a good 10 minutes in each aisle hoping a machine would magically appear. And like clockwork, he approached me at the counter.

Kid: Hey, I looked around the store and I was wondering if you guys have a soft-serve ice cream machine?
Me: Um, do you see one?

Yeah. I'm still employed.

A husband is at home watching a football game when his wife interrupts,

'honey, could you fix the light in the hallway?
It's been flickering for weeks now'.

He looks at her and says angrily,
'fix the lights now?
Does it look like I have GE written on my forehead?
I don't think so'.

Fine,

then the wife asks,
'well then, could you fix the fridge door? It won't close right '

to which he replied,
'fix the fridge door?
Does it look like I have Westinghouse written on my forehead?
I don't think so'.

'Fine', she says
'then you could at least fix the steps to the front door? They are about to break '

'I’m not a carpenter and I don't want to fix steps'.
He says, 'does it look like I have ACE Hardware written on my forehead?
I don't think so
I’ve had enough of you.
I'm going to the bar!!!! '

So he goes to the bar and drinks for a
couple of hours………………………….

He starts to feel guilty about how he treated his wife, and decides to go home.
As he walks into the house, he notices that the steps are already fixed.

As he enters the house, he sees the hall light is working.

As he goes to get a beer, he notices the fridge door is fixed.

'Honey', he asks, 'how'd all this get fixed?'
she said, 'well, when you left I sat outside and cried.

Just then a nice young man asked me what was wrong, and I told him.

He offered to do all the repairs, and all I had to do was either go to bed with him or bake a cake'.

He said, 'so what kind of cake did you bake?'

she replied,
'hellooooo do you see Betty Crocker written on my forehead?
I don't think so!'

I found a link to this internet TV show I did voice over work for when I first came back to LA. And by voice over work, I mean made a bunch of sex noises into the video. You can hear me in the giant orgy scene -- I'm the one with the somewhat whiny high-pitch... and you can hear me again in the climax scene (when the girl's foot shoots up on the table and starts convulsing -- that's me!).

"Jan,

Unfortunately, whatever happens in Vegas, doesn't stay in Vegas. I'm pregnant.

Annik"

Wouldn't that be a fucked up email to have to send someone thousands of miles away in Europe? Good thing I don't have to... yet.

I haven't seen my period in two months; not since the Peter Hook shows.
Where could my period be? Most likely in Denmark!

Boyfriend:"That shit ain't mine."
Me: "It's not mine either.  It belongs to a guy in Denmark!"

I decided that if it is true, then I would send him a singing telegram in Copenhagen.
We proceeded to come up with the many ways this message could be delivered in a poetic, "roses are red" form:

Roses are red, violets are blue, a month ago I was screwed, and so are you!

Roses are red, violets are blue, I've gotten bigger because I'm eating for two!

Roses are red, violets are blue, I'm having a baby and you are too!

Roses are red, violets are blue, Vegas sucks and so do you!

Roses are red, violets are blue, I'm pregnant.

I guess I could also send him a huge white box with a deep red sash ribbon tied in a bow with a box of See's Candies inside of it. And when he opens the See's Candies box, it will be empty with the exception of a child support court order. That would be both mean and hilarious, in exact Annik fashion. Maybe in lieu of the box of candy, I could just send him a half-Cambodian, half-Danish baby.

I actually doubt that I'm pregnant. These last few months have been pretty irregular for me, especially with losing a good deal of weight, changing my diet, and being stressed out. In addition, I'd be lactating at this point and I'm not... and I had X-rays done recently, which cannot be done if you're pregnant (which I was tested for as well).

I had a fun time thinking about the cruelly entertaining "I'm pregnant" scenarios though. I'll save these for the next time a guy forgets to pull out in time.

Anyway, remind me to never fuck another Euro-fag in Vegas again.

From a Hungarian guy I went on a date with a month and a half ago. This email was sent to me on August 3rd, which I had totally forgotten about till now:

Telling your parents you're gay.

Last night very well may have been the first time I've ever fisted a guy in the ass.

Details soon. Maybe.