WTF? DTF? SWM? MWM? ffm? BDSM? WTF?

Okay, I just read the funniest shit ever. I'm hoping it's composer will come in on guest blog duty with it. Fucking hilarious to the point that words escape me in trying to describe it to you. Yes! Words escaped me.

The best description I can give is that it's kind of an inside joke thing between non-chodes. The closest real world, ready reference I can come up with would be
in the context of understanding Katt Williams' bit about knowing your own fuck number and his general theme of being in tune with your star player. Katt's the shit. He can bridge it all for you if it's even a remote possibility. If you can handle it direct, check out David Deida. I'm a chick so it'll all fall on mostly deaf ears if I even bother to try, that's the world we live in. Well, not all of us play by those rules, obviously. Those of us enjoying the joke are peeing a little every time I open my mouth. But seriously, if someone has to ask what DTF means, they probably aren't DTF, or DTFable. 97% of the time.

I know, I already used this one but, fuck it,
I like making these displays of selfishness that interrupt and/or prove my own selfishness.
This is marketing, Bitches,
a shameless self promotion gimmick... that works a little too well :P

The blog advisers suggest taking time to interact with your "followers" (that's my whole gig) and avoiding talking about myself but it would seem the egos (always) override sense and sensibility, because "ME" seems to be the hot topic of conversation in my inboxing adventures. So, the title of this posting is misleading cuz you'd think it'd be a dialogue about acronyms and how to use your google machine to look up shit you don't know about... it's not.

I'd rather talk about "STUFF" and "THINGS" but aside from that I know it's not easy to talk to me if you're a dumbass. Not because I am a smart smarty pants but because I'm an obtusity chameleon. I play on words like a motherfucker. I take peoples statements literally and run with 'em like I was in a marathon. It's intellectual snobbery, in no way mean-spirited, but borne solely out of boredom. If you can't entertain me, I can manage just fine on my own. I'm like South Park without the construction paper or the classy soundtracks, no one is fucking safe from my reality checks.

It's only mean to "make fun", it's not mean to "have fun". And Lord A'mighty, it's strictly a laugh or cry situation.

I swear, upon some un/holy collection of words or other, that all of my posts so far have been about being able to read and apply simple thought processes. In the world of dating or relating to women, to get to the dating. The unfortunate thing about this topic is that the men who "get it" are feeling guilty, even though they're not the perpetrators of  the stupidity in question. It's similar to rape, the men who are mortified by the act of stolen sexy time (and ashamed for being a man because most rapists also happen to be men) aren't the ones who need convincing that it's a shitty M.O. Rapists and people who hurt children have a special place in prison, protected from the honour abiding criminals who have a code of conduct that doesn't include fucking with kids and women. The truth is that most people find bikers scary but you really don't need to unless you are among the rapists and pederasts. Then you can talk about fear. Snitches and dumb bitches also need to watch out for bikers but this tangent is going way off line here.

Do I genuinely expect that these simple concepts will penetrate the thick skulls of the masses? Fuck no, but I have a lot of fun trying. Readers of the myriad of words shared here know that all my material is based on the real world. Interactions I have, others' experiences and tales... and fantasy worlds, lol. (You may also note that that may have been the first time I used the term "lol" here. It's apt, trust me. I wouldn't just go all slang lazy communications for no good reason.) And anyone using their big head would listen when I say "Imma Personna" and make the connection that even if they are all true stories of my sexcapades, a smart business woman would never tell. Because in our society, women who like sex are whores. Especially if they won't fuck you. And in Really Real Reality, women who write about sex spend every waking minute getting fucked proper. Just like Stephen King goes around killing mythical creatures and committing murder before he writes it all down. I bet you asked him to kill your bitch ex-wife because he is so good at it in print, too. I wonder if the people who write "I want sex you" on Lady Gaga's posts on Facebook actually believe that it'll happen. Is this why I am mistaken for the Queen of Sarcasmland? This is Orgasmland... or it could have been if I wasn't so busy giggling about silliness.

Yes, stolen from the Internet,
which is the real reason Imma Bitch.
It ain't cuz I won't dumb it down to be kool-aid soluble...

The main challenge I've identified is that a lot of unhealthy egos are being threatened because I have a brain, a keyboard and an Internet connection... girls can read now, y'know. All sarcasm aside,  I couldn't be more sincere when I say "It's not personal." I will say it again, "IT'S NOT PERSONAL." I am just about as real as it gets. That's it. I am not here on this stupid planet to make you feel poorly about having less brain power, less game, less laisse-faire. It's just life, and nobody said it was fair.  

As the idioms go, "man up" or "watch from the sidelines", but that's your choice to make. My existence has no bearing on your choices and if my influence is really that great, you should be paying me like this was a proper cult. The people who have more brain power, more game and more laisse-faire certainly aren't threatened. In fact, we have a lot of fun together. Laughing at ourselves as much as we laugh at others' stupidity. Because we're not insecure pussies. Like attracts like, can't play a playa, or whatever you're callin' it these days, more on this simple concept to come. And I'll play it from both sides so the ladies don't feel left out of my tirades.

These pathetic recurring themes are borne of my keen observation in communicating with all y'all. Nobody wants to read about the nice, thoughtful guy and the interesting, on many levels, conversation we got up to. Misery loves company, so all these twats' get the spotlight cuz that sells tickets, bitches. Lucky you, it's lookin' like I could continue to write about boner stupidity ego for about three years, based on 5000+ words a day, only taking Sundays off to hang with Jesus, without ever talking to another human being. But hopefully the guest blogger will throw down for you and save me all that trouble.

I'll keep tryin' to keep it productive. But at times I am laughing so hard that I can't type.

Much Love Fuckers, and to the Unfucked, too,
~Imma