I feel like when Jesus was seeing the future and crying those tears of blood, he got Samantha Brick in some hideous La Senza teddy, rubbing her husband’s nasty hobbit feet and smirking about all those fat, ugly, lazy wives who don’t have a nice Coq Au Vin on the stove. Samantha, who ‘blames’ her ‘self confidence’ on her father, yet is married to a guy who regularly weighs her and looks like a racist French caricature, is a terrifying example of low self esteem. Why? Because girls with self confidence don’t go around talking about how hot they are all the time!
They don’t marry dudes who upon first glance, you would assume were almost certainly on some sort of sex offender register. They don’t ‘adhere to opinions’ from those dudes about their hair, clothes and appearance. And they CERTAINLY don’t tell people about it. Her self confidence is so low its like she’s broken through the fourth wall, some next level shit. She’s the Rainman of delusion. I don’t know if I want to do her or be her. But since this is IDCIYWIW, I’d say this would be the world’s most epic hatefuck. Like Gale Force winds, oceans crashing into cliffs, Earth Song playing in the background epic. Plus, she looks like ‘the hot teacher’ at an all boys school. And you know she’d wear the outfit.
P.S Mary Beard is fucking awesome and would trounce Samantha Brick in any debate apart from ‘the best way to pretend your bleached blonde hair isn’t thinning’.
IDCIYWIW is a byword for promptness around these parts, so you know we had to hit you up with an entry about a person whose brief moment of celebrity has already been long forgotten and is resultantly about as famous as Michael Fenton Stevens. Google it.
Gemma Barker, for those of you who read a book/play Angry Birds/cry on the morning train instead of reading Metro, was that one jawn who conductedsexual relationships with two 16-year-old girls while pretending to be six different men, each with their own specific disguise. I’m not one for victim blaming, but if you can’t tell than “Jim A Parker” is the same guy as “Jon E Tarker”, except rocking Groucho glasses, then maybe you don’t deserve the full protection of the law.
Anyway, just look at that girl and her GHD’d-to-fuck hairstyle. You know what it makes me think of? That one dude on Twitter who isabout 46 and yet he’s got an entire account dedicated to mocking Justin Beiberand the guy’s 14-year-old fanbase. And it’s quite clear what he wants to do: he wants to spread The Beib’s asscheeks and tongue the forbidden fruit inside. The great thing about Gemma Barker is she allows us to fulfill our fantasies of fucking Justin Beiber, except it’s totally not gay bruv. And that’s something you, me, and the midlife crisis-suffering wretch that is IAbuseBelibers can all get behind.
Look, there’s a million and one reasons men are better than women but nowhere is it more pronounced than men’s superior sexual imaginations. Stay with me for just a second: Who’s the latest hot shit guy amongst bitches these days?
Ryan Gosling.
OF COURSE you want to fuck Ryan Gosling. He’s young, successful, handsome and wiv a bod 2 die 4. YOU’RE MEANT TO.
But whilst you’re all thinking you’re kooky for fancying Professor Brian Cox or flicking your bean over gifs of Ryan Gosling being “all kyoot n stuff” in Blue Valentine, us men are over here are getting our dicks put on swole by a middle aged reformed goth with an acting career as mediocre as her looks.
Laydeez, until I start seeing FUCK YEAH JAMIE AFRO FROM X FACTOR 2009 tumblrs, y’all kinks ain’t shit.
You know the legal enough chicks you see squeezed into the tightest, most revealing ensembles from their whoredrobes, pole dancing and asserting their right to smoke crack with gang members, in dimly lit intros on episodes with names like ‘which of these 16 men is the father’. Even though your gut reaction may be ‘how can you even turn a profit on $10 all nighters?!’ if your immediate reaction after that is ‘hypothetically, how could I get in contact?’ you need not feel ashamed.
I’m telling you, there’s a reason these shows are aired before your first classes but after your parents have left for work.
If Mystic Meg was my age she’d probably have a tumblr account where she’d regurgitate internet content and mix in some b&w pictures of her topless back on some tryna get my dick hard but not be called out for being an attention hoe shit. I’d probably follow her on twitter too and she’d probably be on some constantly retweeting @ZodiacFacts shit about how “As a #Pisces you have strange desires, impulses, and feelings which are difficult to describe or understand”. I’d duly unfollow her but then she’d twitpic a picture of her new ‘nailz’ or some other accessory no-one gives a fuck about with a hint of cleavage and I’d be sucked back in.
I can front all I want, but when it comes down to it, I’m just another hungry hungry hippo looking for an easy smash.
I have always suspected that if I were a dude, I’d have burned out on drink and drugs and girls with ‘cracking bristols’ by 20, lost my hair and confidence at 30 and by 40 would have settled down at a soul destroying office job, carving out a niche as the ‘wacky’ guy, making jokes about ‘tang’ to cover for the naked, heart rending desolation in my eyes. And then I’d come home and my 300lb bitch wife would yell at me for a while about what a loser I am, still covered in her own lipstick from her afternoon tryst with Steve, the redneck plumber next door and I’d try to drown her out by imagining having my way with the office p.o.a, Stacy and then shooting myself in the supply closet. I like Charlie Brooks because she kind of looks like how I imagine Stacy.
I dunno if any of you have ever fucked with the type of girls who have opinions4u about feminism and like to write about them in punishing length on Wordpress blogs, but I don’t recommend it as a long-term option. The nuclear levels of daddy issues prevalent in that kinda dame might seem like the sort of thing you can have endless fun manipulating at first, but eventually every sexual encounter is gonna end up with at least one of you having “WHORECUNT” written across your forehead in Mac lipstick and an ass that looks like you just got beasted by E Honda.
But if you’re gonna put up with that stuff, you may as well go straight to the queen bee. From what I understand of this wacky ol’ subculture, Sady Doyle is basically the Nah Right of feminist bloggers, except with a lot less proclivity towards sucking dick. Her writing style mainly involves LOTS OF CAPITAL LETTERS like Melody Maker in 1998 never happened, and the usual “The lyrical conceits of Taylor Swift/gender relations in Judd Apatow movies/the rape and murder of Kitty Genovese: is it a good thing or a bad thing? I think it’s a good thing, apart from when it’s a bad thing, in which case it should be banned”. Anyway, that kinda forced anger and put-upon need to be SHOUTING A LOT about LOTS OF MINOR POP CULTURAL DEBRIS that OCCASIONALLY FEATURES SOMETHING SLIGHTLY OFFENSIVE IF YOU LOOK AT IT FROM THE VIEWPOINT OF A RICH WHITE GIRL BUT THEN GO “I KNOW AS A RICH WHITE GIRL I AM NOT REALLY IN A POSITION TO TALK ABOUT THIS BUT I WILL ANYWAY” is kinda what makes her mad blappable in my book. Anyone with that sort of personality has got to be so… studied sexually. The inverse of the “librarian whose secretly putting her mouth one side of glory-holes” stereotype. Sex with Sady Doyle would be the most perfunctory, acceptable sex imaginable. It’d be like sticking your dick in Tony Pulis’s management.
I kept my ears to the streets, checked The Martorialist. He’s triple platinum, getting 50k readers a week. (If you haven’t heard this bint in action, then get learned.)
We’ve all been there, on the bus minding our own business when a young white trash single mum dripping in that Juicy Couture tracksuit swagger pushing a pram like her baby daddy Jamal pushes Moroccan hash to the kids gets on too. Just as you do the standard ‘what colour is the baby’ pram check, the bitch suddenly bends over into your field of view as she picks up a dropped cuddly toy to reveal her g-string with the plastic diamanté triangle whale tail and you get semi bonk on.
We’ve all been there.
We gotta acknowledge The Martorialist for throwing it up for the alley-oop.
I’m putting this up because a lot of dudes are still acting like they wouldn’t hit this bitch like an angry pimp, mainly because of her supposed various STDs (a friend recently opined it would probably be like ‘trying to fuck an active volcano’) and because all ya’ll internet nerds who still can’t get over Megan Fox’s thumb think she’s kind of fugz. Which is not only untrue, but quite frankly with the dyed hair and Tara Reid extensions two shades too light, the fake nose, the lazy eye, the flat chest, the slutty behaviour, the tacky outfits and the hesitant belief that intellectually she’s a 9, when quite frankly she’s a 5 at best, Paris Hilton is like the gold standard of low self esteem. And that makes her the most beautiful girl in the world, to me.
The fifth instalment in the historical bitches theme.
Top muff all round.
Definitely my top pick for the best incestuous group orgy category. It’s weird to think that almost 200 years ago there were people walking around that I could have had sex with.
What is with all these annoying chicks always crying about not being able to ‘sleep around’ like men do. That shits a total fucking myth.
Let me ask you a question. Do you know any ‘hoes’ that are crying for male attention? Do you know any ‘sluts’ that are ostracized by men, have no male friends and cant find a date to save their lives?
OH NO WAIT! It’s the total fucking opposite.
Most of their friends are male, they always have a new man, and their phones never stop ringing. Thats right. MEN LOVE SLUTS.
The people that hate on women that ‘sleep around’ are OTHER WOMEN.
I wonder how many girlfriends Kat Stacks actually has? I going to guess none.
But , like 60 or so broke ass Z-List rappers. My love for Kat Stacks has nothing to do with the fact that she kinda looks like Swizz Beatz in a wig, or has a totally emasculating laugh. Its the fact that she could suck a golf ball though a garden hose. And who in their right mind wouldn’t want some of that?! Huh? Who?
Watching Jessica Simpsons act appalled and offended by ‘The Media’ , during her latest pseudo feminist press blitz trying to pimp her god awful reality show about fat chick around the world. Is kinda like watching Hooters Waitresses act all appalled and offended when they get fired cause they aren’t fucking hot anymore. BITCH, DID YOU MISS THE MEMO? YOU CANNOT BE SERIOUS.
Someone needs to explain to this chick that 3 years ago when she was on MTV in a bikini top and daisy dukes washing a Ford Mustang and shaking her ass. She didn’t give a fuck about ‘images of women’ in the media. But god forbid we notice that she packed on 20 pounds and happen to talk about it, she turns into Germaine Greer.
These hoes are always offended about something.
Not that the extra weight looks bad on her either. If you ask me its a bit of an improvement.
But I am a black man. And chubby white girls with big tits are supposed to be my kryptonite.
So it turns out John Mayer is actually black after all.
Speaking of that smarmy fuck, he confirmed my suspicions all along. Jessica Simpson is a Dirty Birdy.
First off, I did not enjoy Precious. At all. It was voyeuristic welfare porn, straight up, served under the guise of ‘profound insight’. To which I must reply, ‘The Wire’ was profound insight. Precious was just unpleasant (in one scene the main character literally shoplifts a bucket of chicken for the purpose of nourishing her unborn brother/child, although whether this is before or after being sexually abused by her mother, I don’t know. I mean, come the fuck on). But three good things I managed to extract from that wrist slitting ordeal of a movie were;
1) Mo’nique’s performance (she really was very, very good with what little she had to work with. I couldn’t even hate her, as I was clearly supposed to, because her character was so totally one dimensional).
3) Mariah Carey’s turn as a ‘homely’ social worker (the amazing transformation she puts down to not wearing make-up and applying a slight ‘moustache’).
I honestly can’t decide which Mariah Carey I like best. Crazy, music video, married to Nick Cannon Mariah, who’d probably hurl an ashtray at your head if you got home late and has an entire closet devoted to lingerie, or haggard, civil servant, self loathing Mariah, who’d probably do your ironing and watch porn with you on your birthday.
You (sort of) asked for a prissy English rose Tory MP and you (sort of) got one. Joanne Cash actually lost to some bitch that looks like she gave birth to all the Cabbage Patch dolls in the world, seriously look it up.
And that just about wraps up our detail in depth non analysis of the most mashble in British politics. This was srs bizbiz.
If was more of a badman and I saw on the the street I’d be all like Betcha Can’t Wait for me to take you Around The World and buss a nut Deep in you and afterwards you can Hold My Body Tight if you want. But in reality I reckon I’d catch feelings for her and ask her to Stay Another Day in my House of Love.
