LETS TALK ABOUT SEX, BABY, LET'S TALK ABOUT YOU AND ME.

So I realize that I was JUST complaining about being a lonely old hag with a cobweb inducing hoohah so what I'm about to tell you will probably seem a little hypocritical but I feel like telling you anyways...

KITTY GOT LAID

And by laid I mean mind blowingly fucked until I couldn't even think straight.

This guy was not the most fit marine I've ever met (oops did I forget to say he was in the Navy?) and I definitely wouldn't describe his boxer-briefs as packing heat but.. damn that boy knew how to use what God gifted him with.

You're probably rolling your eyes at all the griping I've done lately on my lack of sexytime but don't get ahead of yourself.  I'm still going to gripe.  You see as much as I enjoyed my three hour romp in the hay (Yes, I said THREE HOURS of the third best sex I've ever had in my life) when we were all sweaty and worn out I tried to get dressed he threw me back on the bed and yelled "Nope! Cuddle Time!" Which was pretty unexpected.  So we had 30 minutes of just cuddling and him rubbing my back.

Delicious.

Wait wait wait I'm getting side tracked I was supposed to be telling you why this was bad.  So the cuddling was nice but when I did finally put my clothes back on and kissed my marine man goodbye forever I realized how much nicer that would have been if it wasn't goodbye forever.

Not with this marine, he was sort of an idiot, but with someone.  Someone who I could love and come home to and have mindblowing sex with cuddle time after.  I don't want to fuck around.  I don't want one night stands.  I want love.  I'd settle for a boyfriend first though.

Enough sap, back to the sex.

So you might of noticed that I said it was the third best sex of my life... which doesn't sound like much of a compliment when put into writing but it actually is.  You see I've had some pretty amazing sex in my lifetime thus far so third best is way up there.

Second best would have to be when my Main Squeeze and I made plans and he actually cancelled them (as he often used to do) and I was pissed off and then he called me over and I rode my motorbike over at 2am and halfway there it started to pour.  I showed up completely soaked and he had to peel my jeans off me and definitely spent the rest of the morning making up for being such a douchebag.  I'm pretty sure I finished more times than he did and that, as you ladies out there probably know, is saying something.

Number one of all time was when me and my boyfriend of the time had a little sleepover and in the morning his Dad left for work. We woke up, and had breakfast and went back to bed for a whole day.  The whole day was a series of kisses, cuddles, slow sex, cray sex, back rubs and nuzzling. I haven't experienced anything that intimate and wonderful before or since.

Well that was a very... sexified post.

Heres to hoping you all get mindblowingly fucked sometime soon. Hopefully not by a marine who is only in town for one night.

xx KK

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: DECREPIT

So I spend a lot of time on Facebook.  Mostly because I have no life nothing better to do ever at work. And I do love my Facebook.  What's not to love? It's totally narcissistic.  I look at photos of myself, check out what hilarious things I've posted before, try to come up with ever increasingly witty statuses and totally stalk my ex's see what people are up to.

Don't even try to act like your surprised/judging/don't do the same thing.  Anyone with a blog already likes themselves a bit too much and I already warned you from the start what kind of person I am.

Anyways.  So I love Facebook.  Well... that is, I like Facebook when Facebook likes me.

Which is to say I like when it tells me I have 5 new friend requests.
And when it says 14 people have commented on my latest photo album.
And when my friends are posting about the kick ass party they plan on throwing this week..
And when somebody "likes" my status.
And when it suggests I like 'UFC' and 'puppies' because it knows that I am a tough bitch with a sensitive lovable side.

But sometimes Facebook is not my friend....

Like when it tells me that only random old fat dudes want to be my friend...
and that 14 people have commented on how hot everyone but me in that album is
and that I wasn't actually invited to the big weekend party...
and that the status people like is when someone hacked my computer and posted "is going to die"
and when it tells me that I should like 'alcohol' and 'Match.com' because I'm a lonely hag of a drunk.

Such Depression.

Another time Facebook is not my friend is all the time.

Because no matter how good of a day I'm having Facebook can always remind me that I am stuck in singledom.

Kitty Kat
Gender: Female
Interested in: Men
Relationship Status: Decrepit

Fucking thanks Facebook.

ZOMG FERRARI WORLD

Okay so I like cars.

A lot.

I can't actually drive one yet (because I moved to NYC before I got my car license and there's really no point in having on there but whenever I'm home I intend to get one but end up just chilling with my motorcycle instead)

But I love them.

The first car I was totally hard for was the 2000 Ferrari 360 Spider. It is just the most beautiful sleek piece of automobile ever. Convertible sports car with a 0-100 acceleration of 4.6 seconds. Top speed hits over 290 km/h. And its a fucking Ferrari.

*squeeeeeeeel*

Obsessed.
Now, since then I have become attached to several other car models and practically go into cardiac arrest when I actually encounter one but this car will always be special.
So today at work someone forwarded me a little junk mail about some amusement park and since my job is a joke and I do nothing I actually read the junk mail.

THANK GOODNESS!

There is going to be a Ferrari Theme Park openning in three months. Yes, it is in Abu Dhabi, yes, I realize will probably never ever get to go see it but oh my god it exists.

Of course as I was sitting at my desk like a good little girl I just said "oh, thats nice."

However, my inner dude did such a fist pump that he nearly dislocated his shoulder.

Maybe one day, when I'm famous, I'll be on MTV cribs and they'll roll up to see my "whips" and I'll have a classic Ferrari red 2000 360 Spider sitting in my driveway and the money I make from doing that segment will pay for my trip to Abu Dhabi to see this amazingness.

A kat can only dream....

*squeeeeeeeeel*

THAT'S IT! THAT'S IT! THAT'S IT...

I mean... that's neat....

OOOOH SHINY BUTTONS!

So I get to work today, read my favorite webcomics, shotgunned some coffee and mulled over my nightime adventures. And then I signed on to blogger (okay I actually checked my facebook, the local paper, the NY times & my work email, ate a yogurt, checked facebook again, went trolling for new comics, stared at my ceiling for 6 minutes straight before my co-worker asked if I was alright and then logged on to blogger) and found that there is a new toy for blogs!

Buttons!!!

(And by new I mean they've been around for ages but I just realized how to add them slash blogger took pity on me and sent me a how-to link)

Now you can let me know if you agree with a post (Fuck Yah!), thought it was funny (I just peed) or generally love it and/or me for a multitude of reasons (obsessed.)

You could tick all three if you really wanted to.
Or you could tick none... but lets not talk about scary things today.
Super sweet.
(the "buttons"/tick boxes are at the bottom where you would comment)

So I believe in promoting things you believe in sooooo...
I read comics like whoa. It's sort of a problem. Anyways I figured since I love these artists so much maybe I should give them a little bit of free advertising. So all four of you should read these guys.

First off is Devils Panties (It's not satanic porn) This is the first webcomic I ever read and I fell hard for it. It's a semi true life strip about the artist (Jennie Breeden) and her family/jobs/boyfriends/shenanegins. I personally like to start every comic from the beginning so the link I'm giving you goes to her first one. She also pens several other comics that are awesome. The first couple of strips are just her getting into the groove but then it kicks off into total awesomeness. Give it a try.

My newest fav is Girls With Slingshots which is a great strip by Danielle Corsetto about bars, boys and sex toys. Obviously I am totally obsessed with it. There are other topics too... like dating, cats and a talking Scott-Irish cactus. It's pretty freaking sweet. Once again, read from start.

Anywho, just thought I'd share some of my favorite things with you. Hopefully these will bring you as much joy and relief from boredom at work as they do me.

p.s. the photos are buttons! ctrl-click to go to the first page of the strips.

much love
KK

DRUNK POSTINGS #1

I call this #1 because I am sure it is one of many

P.s I'm drunk. Thank Jesus for spell check. (no really, thank him... have you ever read Samuel, chapter one? It's in there... thou shall no spell incohesive nonsense.

why, pray tell, am I drunk on a tuesday? Well let me tell you.

1) I had dinner with my fajah, his girlfriend and her children... so

there came wine glasses one two and three...

(actually for the record I pretty much adore his girlfriends family

because they're awesome. So really it was the dinner with fajah that

brought on glasses one two and three.)

2) Said fajah is not living at home right now. Which is an

overdramatic way of saying that he's staying at a hotel while

his bedroom gets painted.

When else am I going to get the chance to party all night on

a tuesday without anyone to explain it too? (So really it was

a smashdon of oppertunity)

3) I planned on only having one more drink when I get to the bar

but then someone offered to drop me home since they live two

seconds from me and... well it was all downhill from there.

4) While drinking I ran into the best friend of my ex-Main Squeeze

and he informed me that he was the team leader of the sound group

who have been in my house all week... and he loves my room.

Yes, my room. My bright purple walled, electric blue carpeted,

rainbow curtained room. The same room with butterfly stenciling

and a rug shaped like a flower. The same room that WAS A MESS

because I was in LA!!!

So now I look like a fucking five year old in front of someone

who I sort of want to think I'm cool so he'll tell his best friend that

I'm cool. But no.

No coolness for me.

Why couldn't they have come next week when my room will be

painted grey with black accents? Grey black and blue is way

classier than purple blue and butterflies.

Like why couldn't they be here to see my sexy new king size bed

that replaced my matching (butterfly adorned) twin beds? Or to

see that I don't actually live like a slob...

well I do, but we're trying to look cool here remember?

You might be wondering... dude, its a tuesday night... can you really get into that

much ruckus on a tuesday night?

Yes, my friend. Yes.

Sweet Lord, Baby Jesus my head is going to hurt tomorrow...

THE DUDE-CHICK HYBRID

So… I’m a chick. In case you weren’t aware.

But I wouldn’t exactly call myself the typical girl…

My idea of a fun night out does not include group trips to the bathroom or drinks with umbrellas. When hosting movie night I’d rather watch Saw 1 2 & 3 than The Notebook and when picking my ideal pet I would choose a large dog who could probably eat both your cat and your rhinestone adorned Chihuahua in one sitting.
I like comics and video games and UFC and shots of jäger and talking smack with my guy friends and I would be so happy to wake up at 2pm on a Saturday, open a beer and chill in front of my flat screen for a couple of hours.

So I guess I’m sort of a dude…

But then again I love cooking, and I am a total mama bear and I like snuggles and I obsess over my hair way too much.

So now I’m back to being a chick.

But I use words like “chick” so I’m back to being a dude.

Oh the conundrums.

Well recently I figured out that being a dude-chick hybrid might just work in my advantage. I mean think about it… I am like the perfect package!
I’ll lure men to my sweet pad with the promise of xbox and UFC and then make them want to stay for dinner when they smell the deliciousness wafting from my kitchen.
And over dinner and wine they’ll see how classy and wonderful I am.
But they won’t be worried about me being too stiff or stuck up because they’ll appreciate how my inner G comes out when I’m smackin’ bitches and pouring 40s on my homies while playing Saints Row.
They will respect that I live alone in a pretty large house because it means we can have some bitchin' parties but don’t have to worry about that awkward roommate when we want some alone time.
He’ll love taking me out with his friends because I’m so funny and friendly, but, also because I can tell you the stats of 25 different MMA fighters off the top of my head.
He’ll take me home to meet his family because he knows his Mom and I will bond over dinner prep but I’m still cool enough to joke with his rowdy brothers.
He’ll make fun of my nerdy obsession with ComicCon but will take solace in knowing that I’ll never judge him for his model airplane collection.
He’ll love that I can have a good time wherever we are, whether it’s a grimy sports bar, an upscale night club or his Great Aunt Greta’s 15th wedding reception.

*sigh* We’ll be so happy forever…

...

who am I kidding… I’m going to be single forever…


murr - KK

THE OTHER KAT

So if any of you read the archives of KKC *cough* Siobhan *cough* you might notice that the posts are suddenly signed by "The Other Kat"

Do not fear, there is no intruder. You see, when I first set this blog up I signed up with an account that I had already used for other projects, which didn't seem to be a problem at first but then I realized that the name on my old projects was being used for some of KKC's stuff and das no gud fo me.

Plus I realized that my old email account wasn't one I was willing to subject to anymore spam (I already get like 400 a day) so I made kittykatconundrums@gmail.com special for any readers to contact me at. But the blogger wouldn't let me change my account email to that and blah blah blah blah stress.

Well after thinking about it far too long I just decided to add the new email as a new author on the blog and delete the old one. So when you see "The Other Kat" it just means that that is a post that I wrote before I set up the new email.

Anywho. Just thought I'd bring you up to date with that.

Hopefully I'll be back on later to write a proper non-boring post but if not I'll see you pon the morrow.

xxx
KK

KITTY IS BACK!

Hellllllooo little ones!

It's been a long time, I know, but no worries... Mama Kat is back!

I've actually been back for a few days but blogging is sort of like taking your vitamins... if you stop for a week its painfully difficult to get back into routine. However, if I miss my daily blog I'm not more likely to contract acute viral rhinopharyngitis... which is a good thing for my health but not so good for KKC.

So I wanna talk about boys (I mean.. honestly.. when DONT I want to talk about boys??) but since that could take me all day I just want to focus on a phrase that men, in my opinion, use too often that I actually found myself using today.

"We never said we were exclusive"

Now let it be known that I wasn't actually saying this in reference to my own life... being that to have to state that you are exclusive idicates that you are dating someone but have other options. I am not dating anyone and... I have.. no.. options...

(insert violin joke here)

But still when that popped out of my mouth in defense of one of my friends I could practically taste odiousness. How many times have I heard that and wanted to punch him in the face? Too many. How many people have I heard use that as an excuse and thought "What a whore"? So many.

And now I'm one of them.

So from here on out I'm proposing an idea. If you ask me out on a date and after that date decide you still want to date me... lets just ASSUME we are exclusive. If you want to date (and presumably have sex with) me then stop having sex with other people. I really don't want whatever STD Susie Q has and I really don't want to have to ask you if you're sleeping with other people when we're in the throws of it.

Now look, I understand the appeal of casual dating and I'm fine with it so lets just say that after three dates you either make it clear to your date that she/he/it is just for funsies and is nothing serious and that, yes, you are seeing other people OR you drop your other ladies/men/objects of desire and commit to just one. I say three because after three it's like you've gotten to know each other, you clearly enjoy hanging out and, if you're over the age of 16, you're probably thinking about having sex. So you should probably lay out the rules before that happens.

If you do have a bit on the side... or a whole garage of spare parts... just be prepared to have your balls cut off when your girlfriend finds out. We generally don't like being cheated on and we don't like being lied to. Yes... lying by omission is still lying. And having sex with other people without my knowledge is cheating.

If you are the girl/guy/thing that someone is being "unexclusive" with (i.e. the mistress/boytoy/play thing) then please put a stop to it. You know that you're in the relationship for a reason (like, he made you think that you were really the one he wanted...honestly) but just consider that if they can lie and treat their main squeeze that badly... how will they treat you in the end.

I have to go now but I might be back for more words or wisdom/pointless babble later.

love.

I REALLY LOVE AIRPORTS

I made a comment in the last post about how much I enjoy being at airports and I feel I should explain this properly.

You see, to me, the airport is the perfect place. It's always air-conditioned so you'll never be too hot and if you get too cold you can buy a small, but effective, fleece blanket at your nearest EuroNews. Equally, they sell them at Hudson News too. Such options, such variety, such happiness.

They have every kind of food imaginable... you want some sushi? done. You want some pizza? done. You want pretzels stuffed, covered with and dunked in all assortments of deliciousness?

DONE!

It's an incredible place.

And the people are so interesting that you could never get bored. Like seriously I could write a whole series of books entitled "the weird people I observe/judge/talk to at airports"

Okay... I would probably need a better name than that but still. People watching is like one of my all time favorite past times. I like to give them names and little back stories and create drama and turmoil and strife in their possibly peaceful existences.

I get some of my best ideas in airports.

Also, it's just so damn convenient. You want a new shirt? Boom. You are wearing a new I heart New York shirt... they even sell normal non-touristy shirts. Like no joke... they have a Lacoste at the airport. Get your prep on before the flight. And if you aren't feeling glamorous enough you can buy some serious bling. I'm talking Serious Bling. I watched a woman drop about three grand on a diamond snake bracelet AT THE AIRPORT. Like thats awesome.

Seriously.

And if the people get boring you can set up in the corner and watch some sweet movies and play some sweet games that you bought at the nearest entertainment shack.

There really is no end to the possibilities.

So I could definitely live at the airport. Shower in the lounges, eat three balanced meals a day plus snacks, jog the entire circuit a couple times, write about the weirdos in my free time and spend the night with my fleece blanket staring out at the night sky through the massive expanse of window.

Amazing.

...but that would be weird so I will refrain... I really don't want small children to start calling me the weird airport cat lady...

I'm jet lagged and tired as hell so I'm gonna sign off. Much love to you all.

xx KK

KITTY IS GOING ON VACATION...

...to what might possibly be the seventh circle of hell...

yes, that is right, I am going to L.A.

city of angels my ass....

I was genuinely excited to go to LA because I get to see MugWug for the first time in over a month and spend some much needed girl time with Liz (plus theres the shopping and the airport time... I love airports...) but now that I'm sitting at the gate and seeing the sort of people that I'll be encountering....

Kitty is scared.

I travel in comfortable clothes... all black, leggings, slouchy top and easy slip on vans. It makes getting through security easy and sitting on planes for several hours almost pleasant.

Apparently comfort is not a priority to the locals though... There are people wearing head to toe white... and glitter... and bedazzled shoes...

And there is a man in a pink shirt and a white blazer... its like I fell into a miami vice-gold digger hybrid. And I don't like it.

A rat just popped out of a backpack... by rat I mean an albino little fucker of the chuiaua species. I swear to god if I hear one yip or yap or rapataptap out of that dog I will smack its unholy abomination of a head so hard that it will jump out the window and take its chances with an unparachuted jump from 40,000 feet up.

Rat.

The flight begins and a small child pops up with a bedazzled iPhone and she insists on calling her nanny to say she's on the plane. I might actually vomit.

Now they're playing the Last Song.

Kill me now.. lemme break this down for you... a girl from New York, who sounds like a man from texas, moves to Georgia for a summer with her father. She's grumpy and hates everything. She gave up everything she ever loved because shes sooo dark nd twisty and damaged. Then a boy steals her heart and suddenly she wants to "sing" and be fun again. Oh emm gee boys make like everything like totally better! *gag* This movie isnt over yet but I predict a stupid twist of "you lied to me I hate everything about you and now I hate life again" and then a "oh I forgive you and now everything is better" ending.

Sweet Lord Baby Jesus, save me.

In an interesting LA flight twist though, I have now met MugWugs doppleganger... like not even kidding, he's got his jawline, height, body, fshion sense and even his hair! (now if you ever met MugWug you would understand that the hair is a big deal... he spends so much time on it.. and it's this very particular color and shaped very specifically... god forbid his hair isn't right at any point in time) Anyways... the only thing thats different about this guy is he has totally different eyes and his smile is much more goofy than MugWug... which is hard to do...

Oh wow... the "you lied to me" twist of Last Song just happened and it wasn't even a whole minute between that and the "my brother died so I get to be an asshole and sensitive at the same time...ooh im such a dark and twisty boy" twist.

Okay I'm off to continue judging my flightmates. Because this opertunity may never come around again.. (one can only hope).. and there are only so many straw fedoras and fake glasses that I can take before busting out the serious judgement.

The one promising thing about this flight? The guy in front of me is reading a movie script. Like a real live movie script... I'm writing a script currently and it's nice to be reminded that one day someone might be reading mine.. and then hopefully all y'all will be watching them on a big screen.

Lots of love,

Mama Kat.

JUST ASSUME I'M FAT!!!

Okay... you don't hear that often. But sometimes you would just rather people assume your fat than the alternative. I mean people don't generally comment on your fatness in social situations or in casual polite conversation.

But they will mention when they think your pregnant.

Like when this woman at the pharmacy was eating some strawberry froyo and engaged in a conversation with me and I mentioned that the froyo looked delicious. And she asked me if I was expecting.

At first I didn't understand like.. expecting what? for you to give me your froyo? No, I'm not expecting that, but it would be nice... but no. She patted her belly and asked again. "Are you expecting?"

Yo, Lady, just assume I'm a fatty who likes fro yo... don't jump to baby in my belly. And I'm not that fat! Like yah I'm chubby but it is alllll over it's not like I have the Mama-to-be body of average sized limbs and a giant beach ball belly.

Self conscious. So self conscious.

So before things get awkward in your next situation just assume someone is fat and don't talk about it. Unless I'm wearing a "Baby on board" sign on my uterus or a sign that says "I'm pregnant... oops" then just assume I'm fat. If I am carrying a weeks worth of newborn diapers and stocking up on prenatal vitamins just assume I'm a fat person running errands for a pregnant person who obviously can't do their own errands because they are pregnant!

Anyways... just thought I'd let that rant out.

I'm off to find either a plastic surgeon looking to do some pro-bono lipo on my baby belly orrrr an orange juice.

xx KK

SURVIVOR

...sometimes Life is like Survivor...

...where the people who are weakest fall behind and get their tiki torches snuffed out. If you are expendable you will be eliminated. The only way to beat that system is to not be expendable. Dedicate yourself to being a better person, in all aspects of your life, every day. Because it's not enough to be a great hunter or challenge winner... if you're an asshole you will be kicked off the island and everyone will forget who you are.

so be a better person... that way life can be a little bit more like Survivor and a little less like The Jersey Shore
(or as I affectionately call it... pit of immorality and silicone despair)
...where no matter how much of a useless asshole someone is, they will never be kicked off (until they die of over consumption of tanning oil) and they will start to actually make money off of being a trashy asshole...

...

I didn't really expect more of people until recently. Like, I did... when I was young I expected a lot from people. And then you get let down because your expectations are too high. So I compensated by expecting less from people.

If people were self consumed assholes with nothing in their brain but sex and drugs then that was fine with me. If my girls were more concerned with getting boys and free drinks than our friendship that was fine with me. Because who was losing? We were getting drunk and high and sexed and thats all that mattered right?

No, I'm moving out of the Jersey Shore. I expect my men to treat me well, take me out, and love me even when we're not making love. I expect my friends to stand by my side through hard times and prioritize the people they claim to love over random play. I expect people to appreciate our relationship and not take me for granted.

I don't expect everyone to be able to keep up with this new Kitty Kat but the ones that do will be the ones worth keeping. I'm not saying that there is no sex or alcohol or stupid dumb shit. I'm just saying its not my everything. Life more than drama and bar fights and crying over boys that break your heart.

So yeah... wipe off your fake tanner and pull out those extensions and leave the bozos behind and join me in a world where you are rewarded for your actions... not your cup size... loved for your heart... not how many bros you've decked and where, for maybe the first time in a long time, you can feel like a real person again.


If anyone tries to sneak Snooki in in their pocket I will personally snuff your freaking tiki torch out.

xx KK

In case "the Situation" is reading this... I'm not actually moving from the Jersey Shore.. I dont even live there... I was using it as a metaphor.. like when Paulie D mimicked having sex with your pillow.. that pillow was a metaphor for all the women he would never get. You still don't get it? Thats okay... You just stay in depravity and enjoy your lack of intelligence.

MEN ARE FROM TOONTOWN, WOMEN ARE FROM SPARTA

Do you know that feeling when you get into bed and lie down and all your joints fall into place and your muscles stretch out gloriously and its like your entire body is saying ooooh yah thats good. A giant sigh of relief and happiness goes through your bones and pure joy radiates from your muscles as you stretch and release all the tension from your body.

I keep my room at a general temperature of freezing so when I get into bed its not just the cushiness that makes me happy its the jumping under the covers and being cold and cuddly and perfectly cocooned that makes Kitty want to purrrrrr.

purrpurrpurrpurrpurr

So despite my weekend including a drunken breakdown over being replaced by my former Main Squeeze, some killer pre-LadyTime cramps and spending my saturday night watching Save the Last Dance instead of seeing friends or having fun, all my worries melt away when I hop into the wonderful cold cushiony heaven of a bed.

Delicious.

This wonderland of comfort is only increased by the hot water bottle, some Earl Grey tea and my LadyTime happy pills. The reason I bring this up is because, as I eased out of feeling as though a small army of men with bayonets were ripping apart my uterus and into a partially medicated, pillow and comforter induced bliss, I reflected on a conversation I had a few days ago.

This conversation was with a pair of boys and, as all my conversations with boys do, it eventually turned to the topic of boners. And how horrible the "inconvenient boner" is.. especially while in high school. And they went on about the problem and turned fairly small appendage into a monumental issue. Now I am sure that your boners are very embarassing and uncomfortable when in school but lets be honest... you suffer for what, a year, maybe two(?) before you learn how to tuck it up against your belt or to wank before you have french class with that hot teacher?

So if you were to suffer for a year and a half (averaging) from an inconvenient boner at school every 2 days then, since there are only 180 school days in a year, that would be 90 days in which you suffered. And lets say that this problem, or the subsequent embarassment, lasts up to 1.5 hours... thats 135 hours of discomfort.

Now lets look at my cramps. I started when I was 13 and lets just assume I'll hit menopause at 53. From experience my horrible cramps, without the aid of painkillers, can last from 8 hours to 48. So lets round to 20 hours per period, 40 years, 12 a year... 9600 hours in my life of pain.

135... 9600.

One Hundred and Thirty Five vs Nine Thousand and Six Hundred...

My pain is 71.111% higher for me being a girl than you for being a boy so I really don't want to hear your bitching anymore.

and I didn't even take into account childbirth.

just saying

xx KK

SOMETIMES I UNDERSTAND WHY...

Girls don't wear bras....

sometimes I don't...

For example, if you have no boobs and want to achieve that "I'm such a badass that can wear a baggy track pants wear a tank top to a club and still look hot" look, you can totally go braless.

If you are a fashion model and your satanic designer actually wants the world to see your tits, you can go braless..

If you are getting banged, bralessness is a must.

However... if you are not alone, flat chested or one of the above... buy a freaking bra and wear it!

They come in all sorts of colors and sizes and patterns and shapes and if you are flat you can get them padded, if your busty you can get them with some serious lift power and if you feel like getting that slutty I'm not wearing a bra look but don't want to give up the wonderful benefits of our lift and seperate friends then they even come in lace, mesh and PLASTIC.

SO there is NO EXCUSE for not wearing a bra if you are not flat, a model or getting banged.

So to the lady in the draped cotton frock last night... to the lady with a pretty decent C cup... to the lady who seemed to think that her C cups did not warrant bra while wearing a thin draping cotton frock...

YOU WERE MISTAKEN

it is not cute to have you boobs flopping around all night... the A cups and even some B cups can get away with that but... lady.. please... no... please...

Buy something slutty that has some SUPPORT. I could give you a few recommendations if you want....

just saying.

xx KK

P.P.S

AND NOW I REALIZED I SHAVED ONE LEG TWICE

my life is shambles...

P.S.

So... I just managed to do something incredibly stupid... you know how theres things that you imagine and then giggle about because its so silly and unlikely....

I just managed to slip in the bathtub and land on a razor... with my ass.

Yes, my ass. I now know what it feels like to cut yourself shaving on your ass.

It hurts and it stings and its bleeding and these are not words I like having associated with my ASS.

This reminds me of that time freshman year when I tried to give myself a brazillian in prep for my boyfriend coming to visit... at least this time its just my butt... back then it was R.I.P vagina for a month.

AS PROMISED...

A second post!!

So I think its about time that someone clarified a few things for the men creatures of this world..

Dear menfolk,

We, women, are not always turned on by the same things as you. I'm sorry that makes it more complicated to figure out what we want but like... how about you try talking to us insted of assuming... To make things a litttttle easier I figured I'd give you a list of just a few things that I think you should know... in my humble opinion...

1) You may like to stare at hoohahs all day but I really don't want to look at your dick. Don't offer to show it to me on cam, don't "sextext" me photos of it, and don't just take it out and expect me to revel in its glory like... no offense but it's not that pretty... And don't email it to me at work, how is that sexy? how? "Oh I'll get that invoice for you straight away sir, let met just check my em- OH GOD A WANG!".

2) My body parts do not have names... your little man might be called Little Adam or Thor or Conquerer of Doom but my vagina is not Princess Leona, Virgina or "my pretty pink place of pleasure" Oh and upstairs they are called breasts, boobs or tits. No funbags, no "the twins" no nothing.

3)I don't find it sexy to know how much you can please a woman... I mean its sexy to know you can please ME but don't tell me about other ladies because that is just.. ew..

4) We want a bad boy, yes... but also no... Like.. we want a sexy mysterious man with a dark side but who won't actually hurt me or break my heart and it would be nice if he was in touch with his sensitive side lol.... Lets be honest... we don't even know what we want so good luck figuring it out for yourselves.

5) Not all vaginas are the same. How about you spend five minutes figuring out what I like instead of assuming that I' exactly the same as your last chick... funny story.... she liked being jumped while she was still asleep and pounded by you like a clam by an otter? I DONT. Gimme a little romance you dickwad.

6) Kissing is not a waste of time. I shouldn't have to explain why... just do it okay?

Okay I'm tired right now so I'm done for now but trust me there is plenty more for you creatures to learn lol.

Ladies... email me anything else you think of for the next post @ KittyKatConundrums@gmail.com

SHEER PAISLEY MAKES ME WANT TO JUMP OUT A WINDOW

So I've been privy to several complaints that I'm not writing often enough... which is both flattering and annoying. I keep trying to sneak on at work to post but I get distracted by various things... my stapler being out of staples, refilling my coffee mug, devising new covert routes to the vending machine, googling at the jailbait interns, dressing up the office chia pet with outfits made from my supplies & unscrewing the wheels from my co-workers chairs... oh.. and doing my job sometimes... so clearly the blog gets shafted.

I know its not fair... I'm thinking that maybe this weekend I'll write up a bunch of my ideas (I promise I have them!) and save them so when I'm in a bind I can just pop one up... it feels like cheating but it's not.

Anyways.

So today I came to work in my usual garb of "whatever was clean and within grabbing distance of my bed this morning" which, since I am from NY and 97.4% of my wardrobe is black, was an almost all black ensemble.

Well some little snarky snot nosed brit gets into the elevator this morning and asked me if I was in mourning before bursting into laughter...

firstly... its not that funny, stop cackling you fugly mismatched bitch
secondly...how horrible would you feel if I said yes? Like that would have been really good payback. "are you in mourning hahahahha" "yes... my twin sister was brutally murdered last night. I'm paying my respects." "oops."

oops is right you dumb bitch.

and lastly like.. what a moronic comment. clearly I'm not in mourning... I'm rockin some sexy Jessica Simpson hooker heels and super hot coral nail polish... what person in mourning has the energy to spend on perfectly balancing all day long or on finding the perfect nail color for their skin tone? huh?

So try to stop laughing at your own jokes and go crawl back up Kmarts butt since thats obviously where you bought your paisley sheer blouse and blue striped ankle length skirt...

yes... blue striped skirt that went to her ankles and a paisley sheer blouse... I shudder at the memory.

My skinny black pant and off the shoulder black AA top will be in fashion forever... your look will never.



Okay now that that rant is out of the way... because I didnt post yesterday I will be posting again this afternoon/tonight so keep an eyeball out for it.

lotsa love,
Mama Kat