Take it easy there, Diane Arbus. Don’t have a coronary, ’cause I wouldn’t know how to explain that to your wife.

We needn’t ever speak of it again but one does not very easily forget the kiss of a beautiful woman. That’s right. I said it. I meant it. I’m here to represent it.

I may be easy, but I’m not sleazy.

Maybe I should hide under your clit, he’d never find me there.

And you’re no Brett fucking Ratner. But that could be a compliment, and in that case, I didn’t mean to.

You have a dog named Cat Stevens? Holy fuck!

Hell-A Magazine blog number one. Hank hates you all. A few things I’ve learned in my travels through this crazy little thing called life. One: a morning of awkwardness is far better than a night of loneliness. Two: I probably won’t go down in history, but I will go down on your sister. And three: while I’m down there, it might be nice to see a hint of pubis. I’m not talking about a huge’70s playboy bush or anything, just something that reminds me that I’m performing cunnilingus on an adult. But I guess the larger question is,  why is the city of angels so hell-bent on destroying its female population?

Friends don’t let friends bang each other’s soul mates.

Must be my trick ear but I thought you said “blog”.

I don’t just say shit. I mean, I do talk a lot of shit, but I generally mean what I say and I say what I mean.