Monday, January 30, 2012

Cyber ICandi..

I have once again decided to dabble in the decidedly murky world of internet dating. I put up a profile and in twenty-four hours I had over 200 e-mails. I had to remove the feature to e-mail my home e-mail because my inbox was overflowing. Sigh....I am a hot commodity apparently. The burdens of being awesome and sexy.

I have already e-mailed, chatted, texted, phoned and met someone within a span of a couple of hours. We met for ten minutes and went our separate ways. THAT is what I am talking about people. Efficient use of one's time is paramount to success. That includes dating. We clicked through e-mail, chat, text and phone. However, when we met it was like eating just iceberg lettuce. If you don't know what I mean by are stupid. Moving on. (See that? Efficient!)

I have also had some very amusing e-mails that illicited uncontrollable laughter but no response. I literally had someone e-mail me with this gem. "how u doin boo mah god u is so beautiful dnt b a stranger..." Seriously? Really? Wow. That is copied verbatim spelling and all. To be fair, I think he may have been using his phone...but still...

I am having fun with this. Maybe, too much fun. Oh and in case you didn't notice I decided not to become a lesbian. I am happy being straightish. Maybe, I have some form of ADHD. Omigod look a dead cat! I don't know it is a strong possibility. I do like potato salad. What was I talking about? Oh yeah, ADHD I don't know I think that is a made up thing.

I have realized that being this awesome has some downfalls. I literally can't keep all these men straight. I have sent texts to the wrong one and accidentally called someone I didn't mean to call. I played it off. I am a pro.

So currently I am talking to about six different men and just talking. I am not ready to share my candi goodness that way yet. I am just loving the attention and it's intoxicating people. Like fine crack, I mean wine. I may talk slutty, but I am not an actual slut. I just know how to speak it.

I am sure I will have more thrilling tales you are DYING to read about my "love" life. I know I am fascinating and addicting. It's a curse more than a blessing. You learn to live with it and cope with it like any disability. Those of you cursed with awesomeness and sexy know what I am talking about. The other 90 percent of you seethe with impotent rage and jealousy. I wrote 90 because I was being generous and nice (another wonderful thing about me). It is probably more like 99.9% but everyone must have dreams right?

Well, I have to get to my day job. Like Superman had Clark Kent to hide his true awesomeness, I have another persona that I put on so I can lead a normal life. You are all wonderful. I am high off my awesomeness. I love you! Kisses!

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Sunday, January 15, 2012

Secret Santa Sucks!

It was a dark and stormy night. All the chitlins were tucked away. Nestled. Dreams of an honest man's means and a poor man's wages were toiling over the next commercial. I enjoy watching the excitement and anticipation of another yule tide season.

Every year seems to be more drab and more plastic than the last. Fuckers! They told a fib. I was to understand that the holiday season was to be filled with jolly and love. Not the constant reminder of how broke I am.

What happened to the secret Santa present that was cool, witty, and reliable? The awesome gift that was 25 dollars or less and didn't make you feel obligated to at least spend $24.43 + tax?

I'm at a loss. I like to purchase gifts slightly out of the range and act like I  got a spectacular deal. Am I alone in this? I imagine so as it seems that most gifts are the direct result of a gift card denomination.

How were we supposed to know that this was a two part story? One part written while I was sober and shopping, and now some fuck writing while drunk and elusive? I can't complain anymore. Complacent. I still wanna ask the question. Why is it that the more money I bring to the table, the less gifts are placed under the tree?

Once upon a time I made shit for money. Shit! I made enough to build a "wish sammich". (If you're curious, that's two slabs of moldy bread wishin sumpthin was betweenst insteada just ketchup.) Now that I have made a sumwhat name for myself, the means are great, but not what I figured they'd be at my level of heroism and pimptasticness.

True, that my taste in liquor has been upgraded slightly. Slightly. I have become a snob if that's how you wanna werd it, jerk. I have dragged myself into the realm of fine fine alcoholic fantasy. So what! It is a passin time in every humans life to try indulge in the finer things that Crom has blessed us with. I have graduated and indulged in the same. Sad but true.

This holiday season seems to be better than the last. I mean honestly, don't we all feel that we can provide for our loved ones better than last year?

22 more Ramen packages from Walmart in the cupboard is better right? Let me retort. Most of us can anyway.

My crackhead slug bottom brethren seem to have more crack then before. They're higher and more numb to my questions. I ask in a mild manner with my same flask full of scotch, "Hey Lucille, How are you doin this holiday season?" I ask this not because I actually care, but because I wanna know what the fuck she'll say. (Turnin 8 dollar blow jobs an whatnot seems to make her family happy during this yule tide season.) Sorry, I had to ask. such as my want, I ask.

Happy Holidays and Happy 2012 to those of you that keep track of such nonsense. I hope all is well and..

P.S. Fuck your Christmas Tree! out..
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Wednesday, November 2, 2011

My Interview With The Ghost Of Dr. Hunter S Thompson

Last night I had a talk with the great Dr. Thompson. He returned from the grave to bitch at me about football, Nixon, and the current unavailability of good acid in the afterlife. Ashes dropped from his famous cigarette holder onto my old shag carpet as he waved his arms around wildly while telling me the story of his death. “Oh, but you will find out soon enough, you god damn Mexican, you will find out soon enough.”

At first it was just regular old man bullshit. We argued about the greatness of the Denver Broncos, the best way to skin a rabbit, and how to get out of a traffic ticket. He thought my idea of being polite to the police was ridiculous and instead advised me to piss all over myself and start giggling wildly. I told him while that may be good for a white man, it would get a brown guy like me shot. He smiled, then we broke out the good whiskey and the talk got deep.

“Your type of journalism”, he said “will never be popular with the mainstream. You can’t write a god damn straight story to save your life.” He took a deep swig from the bottle of Jim Beam and his eyes became bloodshot with hellfire. “But for fucks sake, don’t listen to me. Lord knows you don’t give two shits what anyone else says. I never did either. Light that god damn reefer up!”

I pulled a lighter from the front pouch of my black hooded Adidas sweatshirt and inhaled deeply from the resin-darkened glass bowl. The good doctor mumbled something under his breath about the lack of good old fashioned wooden pipes these days and took his turn with the sweet smelling herb. We puffed in silence for a minute. Then he asked me about my plans for the future.

“I’m not sure,” I responded slowly. “I’m here now I guess. I’ll keep writing, doing my thing. Try my best to follow in your footsteps…” I barely got the last words out of my mouth before he stopped me abruptly. “That’s a load of horse crap if I ever heard one!” he screamed as he slapped me in the back of the head.

“My generation failed. Our revolution was killed in the early seventies. Stop looking at the past! Your readers are here, now! Wake up man!” He threw another slap my way, but this time I had the good sense to duck back. His chair swung wildly as he barely held his balance. I chuckled a bit as I tipped the old Jim Beam bottle into two more shot glasses and pushed one towards his side of the table.

“You were right about one thing. You need to keep writing. You’ll most likely fail if you do, but you will definitely fail if you stop now.” He winked. Or at least I think he did. It could have been the effects of the Beam. Do dead people even still feel the burn of good, four year old Kentucky bourbon?

“Zero, you’re not listening you bastard.” Hearing my name flow from between the lips of my greatest hero made me quiver a little. “Stop comparing yourself and your generation to others. This is the future, man! Ride your own rollercoaster. It is not your topics that make you original, it’s your words. You’re not Gonzo, your something different. Pirate ninja or whatever the hell you are calling yourself nowadays. I came here to get you to stop chasing ghosts. Your whole generation has been chasing ghosts. Jesus Christ man, stop. For your own good.”

I looked down at the half empty bottle of Beam. His words resonated in my head. I began to think of everything that is going on in this world, all the bad crazy shit, and realized the good doctor was right. Me, hell, all of us, have been chasing a dream that does not exist anymore. We need to create our own dreams. We need to live our own lives. It is time to forget our heroes, our past, and everything that has happened and do something new. Our future is our future; it doesn’t belong to anyone else. It is time to get on with that.

Just as that thought settled into my head, I looked up and the old coot was gone. All that was left was a diminishing cloud of reefer smoke and the slight smell of stale acid. All of a sudden, I was alone; left to mull over the wise words of our greatest journalist, my one time hero. I now leave you, good reader, to do the very same thing. It is up to you to take with your own conclusions from reading of this encounter. I couldn’t explain it if I tried
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Tuesday, October 11, 2011

”Bob Dole”, And Other Funny Things to Say During Sex

1. The Bob Dole
Before all is said and done, I will make this one famous. All credit for this must go to the man who created it, for now he shall be known only as “Maples”. I described this tactic once before. Wait until the woman is a few seconds away from an orgasm, stop, look her straight in the eye, and say in a low tone “Bob Dole”. This never fails to end a relationship.

2. The Ninja Scream
This is done mid-sex. As soon as things get hot and heavy and the girl is getting into it, start pounding her as hard as you can and scream out “NINJA! IM A NINJA!” Immediately after you say this, jump up and start fake fighting an imaginary foe.

3. Yo Querro Taco Bell
This one is done while you are eating the pussy. Again, you must wait until she is all hot. The trick to this one is getting that first little scream. You must then stop, look at her and wait for her to look back, smile, and say “Yo querro Taco Bell.” You must then continue on like nothing happened.

4. The “Dwayne Johnson”
The great one himself inspired this one. Here is the deal: while in mid stroke, say in a manly voice, “You like this? Want more?” She will start to respond. As soon as she opens up her mouth to say something, cut her off in a loud voice and shout “It doesn’t matter!”

5. The Primus
You can only pull this one off if your name is not Mud. This one differs from the others also in the fact that it is done right after sex. While you are both basking in the goodness that is the few minutes after sex, tell her your name is Mud using your best Primus voice. When she looks at you funny, continue to go through the rest of the lyrics to the song until she gives up and leaves.

6. Screaming your own name
The key to doing this one right is to wait until she says your name. As soon as she does this, say “Yeah, ZERO! Fucking ZERO! YOU ROCK!” Substitute my name for your own.

7. The “Chas”
This can be pulled off at any time during intercourse. You have to be all into it then all of a sudden get an annoyed look on your face and scream out in the direction of the nearest room, “MOM! MEATLOAF!” Go back to fucking her for a second then get an even more annoyed look and scream it again.

8. The “Jesus”
This must be done during the more intimate moments. You know, when she is looking you in the eye with that sweet, chick-like, I-love-you look. Slow things down a bit, stare at her back, and in a girly voice sing “Jesus loves the little children…”

9. The “Arnold”
While “Get to the chopper, NOW!” is the best, any of Arnolds catch phrases may be used. In order to make this funny, you must kind of sound like Arnold when you are doing it. Another good one to use is “So, you cook up a story and toss the six of us in a meat grinder?”
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Thursday, September 22, 2011

iCandi Lezbehonest

This is it. I have officially decided to become a lesbian. I already was leaning in that general direction. I have been told by numerous lesbians that it can't be a choice. That it just happens. I want to know why. Why can't I switch teams mid-game?I like both men and women and have tried to play the ahem "straight and narrow' with strictly men. However, that is not working so well for me.

I want to try being a lesbian for awhile just to switch things up. Is that so wrong? Women are nice. They smell good (usually) and feel good (most of the time). They are soft and pliant and oh so beautiful (some of them).

But when I really think about it, I most likely wouldn't have any better luck with women than I would with men. With my luck, I would end up with a prissy princessy bitch type. You know, someone who would nag me all the time and throw temper tantrums and call me names in public. Oh and she would probably cheat on me the whole time with a dude. Yeah, mebbe being a lesbian isn't such a hot idea.

I would like to be a card carrying member though. I am going to start going to the gay bars and see how I do. In the past, it seemed as though I was doomed to be a love toy fag hag for gay boys. Not that I ever did, mind you, it just seemed that way. I don't know if I should be flattered that so many gay dudes wanted to bang me. I think it was because I was the closest they were going to get to banging a girl who was more like a guy without actually looking like a guy.

If I am not making sense, it is because I am highly intoxicated. I heart vodka. When all else fails, vodka is there. It soothes the empty void and makes everything else inconsequential. I couldn't afford Ketel One so I bought Skyy.. the sacrifices one makes in this recession.

So I think I will leave this to a vote. Should iCandi try lesbianism or not? Let me know. I will weight your opinions carefully depending on my level of inebriation. This may be the Skyy talking but I love you guys. Yep, it's the Skyy talking. Damn cheap liquor. Peace out my lovelies. Till next time. XOXO Gossip Girl....oh fuck... I just went into prime time daydream mode..
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Monday, September 12, 2011

Mirror Mirror Ketel One..

In my previous post, I mentioned that I would do a piece on how to redeem yourself if you are a fucktard. Well in order to determine how best to help yourself , you must first ascertain if you are indeed fucktarded.

There are different levels of fucktardedness. I am only going to touch on the most common and abundant flavor. The most common are the douchebags. How do I know if I am a douchebag, you might be wondering. Well, there are telling signs that while obvious to everyone else, may escape you entirely.

Look in the mirror. Give yourself a once over...actually give yourself a twice over. Do you have either a lesbianish Justin Bieber/Zach Efronish side do with carefully applied product to look casually indifferent? Or do you have a teased bump a la Snookie?

Do you have a perfectly orange fake tan stylishly emulating an Oompa Loompa in heat? Do you shop at Ambercrombie and Fitch? Do you tuck only the front part of your shirt in or wear cutoff jean shorts that are so short the pockets show? Fyi, that last one may also make you a lazy, trashy ho.

If you have said yes to two or more of the above, you my friend are a douchebag. Don't despair these are just physical things that are entirely fixable. However, certain personality attributes that accompany said physicality are harder to fix.

Don't worry I am here to guide all of my lost little sheeple. Admitting you are a douchebag is the first step in recovery. Embracing the wisdom of iCandi is next. St. Tropez makes a self tan remover that is amazing. I suggest never self tanning again. Period. Either get your ass out in the sun or stay the fuck white. Nobody gives a shit if you are perfectly tanned. Trust me.

I could go on and on about the different ways you could tip the scale from douchebag to awesome, but I would have to literally write a book. My friends, I am way to much of a procrastinator and waaaay to lazy or drunk.. but mostly drunk. At least, I have provided enough adequate guidance to get you on your way. So kisses and licks.. I got a bottle of Ketel One that is eye fucking me.. or is it the other way around?
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Tuesday, September 6, 2011

The Awesome Standard

I am fucking awesome. Yeah I said it and you better damn well know I believe it. I can't say that I have always known this, but through all the hell, shit and drama I came through. I like me. I think I am pretty, funny, honest, loyal and maybe maybe.....I am a bitch.

How many of you know you are awesome? I mean truly know that. To be fair, some of you probably aren't. You can't help that, but it doesn't mean you can't achieve some level of awesomeness. Most likely you won't attain the awesomeness that I have, but some level is surely within your reach. Yeah I sound like an asshole right now, but you know what? I am a fucking awesome asshole.

Just so you know it is imperative to liberally sprinkle your speech and writing with "fuck" in order to be this awesome. I can honestly say that I am truly happy with who I am. I think that my thirties are going to be my most defining years. It helps that I am almost done with my genetically modified velociraptors that I will use to finally take over the world. Just kidding....

I am going to take a minute here to be universally caring. Don't blink or you will miss it. I want every single one of you to know how awesome you are. Unless you are completely fucktarded there is a portion of you that is awesome and will always be awesome. Find your inner awesome. Embrace and flaunt that bitch like I flaunt my boobs which by the way are fantastic.

If someone wants you to change, punch them in the ovaries and walk away. Unless you are the aforementioned fucktard...then you probably should change. For those that think they may be fucktards, I will be posting a self-help piece for you dick drizzlers later.

I am back with a vengeance. Love me, fear me, try to keep up with me....and it doesn't have to be in that order. This is just the beginning won't always be this nice and won't always be this unoffensive. For now, I love all you hookers. Peace out niggas.

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