Southern Hospi-hail-ity

what the pH*ck?

hospihaility — Mon, 05 May 2008 20:03:34 +0000

like texas chainsaw massacre? well now you can revisit it…in bed. this chainsaw-looking apparatus is meant for female pleasure, but wet the tongues and i bet you could clean your cat with it too (no puns intended). if you do happen to be a horror movie-nympho freak, be advised this doesn’t come with a leatherface, so bring your own.

visit site.

bad boys, bad boys

hospihaility — Wed, 30 Apr 2008 04:09:18 +0000

Women are subjected to the most painful afflictions in life. Between pre-menstrual cramps, labor and those incredibly uncomfortable doctor visits that require our feet in stirrups, the female gender is naturally masochistic. And all we want when it’s “that time of the month” (besides chocolate) is a good man to balance our torture trend with back rubs and sweet nothings comparable to John Mayer’s “Your Body is a Wonderland.”
But alas, our instinctively self-destructive nature scrambles the messages sent from the brain to the heart, tricking us into falling for the wrong guy. Will we ever get the memo that the nice guy should finish first, or has it been lost in translation?
As the poster child of bad relationships I’ve been put through the ringer time after time, only to get up and run head first into trouble again. Every time I’d fall flat on my ass and think, “I really need to change what I’m doing.” Even my mother would tell me I was cruisin’ for a bruisin’ (yeah, we’re southern) with my taste in guys, yet as soon as one asshole was out the door another one found his way in.
I was Little Red Riding Hood skipping through the forest with a huge basket of treats, and the wolves were ready to attack. OK, maybe I wasn’t that innocent. I was more like a Little Red Negligee trying to tame a big bad wolf.
If you’ve ever wondered why girls like dangerous guys, I’m about to blow your mind: We don’t. We like fake danger. Real danger will land us in a trailer with a mullet and a cameo appearance on an episode of “Cops,” and no woman is praying to have a closet full of cut-off shorts and shirts.
Girls like the type of danger that will go away after it gets us all excited, like a motorcycle ride. Unfortunately when someone is fake in one way, it spreads through their core like an STD.
My ex was fake like that. This guy had the audacity to date three girls at the same time; two in New York and me in Philly. I was his everyday girl and the showgirl for his parents.
In a nutshell, I gave up my mission of taming the bad boy and trusted my intuition and the painfully obvious hints of infidelity, like the dirty text messages from other girls and pictures on his camera. I got the hell out of that situation. When the “other women” and I compared stories, I was disgusted by this asshole’s selfishness and utter disregard for anyone else.
Thankfully it wasn’t a serious relationship. We were only together for six months and I definitely wasn’t in love with him, but the thought of someone being so cruel supplied the cement for the wall I began building around myself.
I took a long time off from relationships after that. I had my fair share of asshole boyfriends, but this kid was the straw that broke my heart. Within this period of singledom, I did some self reflecting to figure out what I was doing to attract these guys. That’s when the answer smacked me across the face: I was asking for it all along.
If love is blind then danger is mute, and they’ll both screw you. I was completely oblivious to the nice guys who were in a winless war with the assholes, and deaf to the high-speed train wreck happening in front of me. With that realization, it was time to open my senses and alter the trend of self-inflicting damage. Easier said than done.
Now that I had this fortress built around me (complete with armed guards and a moat), breaking into it was going to be one hell of a task. Many tried, few got close, but none succeeded. The only ones to get close were still wolves in sheep’s clothing. Luckily my senses had returned to working order, and these assholes in disguise were gone before they could cause any damage.
One year later and my bad boy radar much wiser, the nice guy finished first. He had quite a fight in him and he knew when to use it. That’s the difference between nice guys and assholes— they only need one win to feel complete rather than conquering multiple girls to feel like a pimp. I put my nice guy through hell and high water to get to me and if he was willing to risk that, then I knew I could take a chance on him too.
Want my advice? Don’t chase danger. The bravest guys are the ones who stick by your side, come rain or come shine. To all you nice guys out there: don’t give up. The right girl will see your determination and meet you halfway, making it worth your energy. And to all you asshole boys: grow up or pH*ck off.

the first of a sort

hospihaility — Wed, 30 Apr 2008 03:04:35 +0000

this is not my first blog post by a long shot, in fact, i’m a well seasoned pro at this gig. i started with an opendiary back in my high school days because that was the cool thing to do and the way to keep up on everyone else’s drama. before even graduating i switched to livejournal because it was the scene thing to do and the way to keep up with everyone else’s scene-centered drama. after that got old (or after i forgot my password) i went on hiatus for quite sometime and stuck with using pictures for documentation. then i started a blogspot which no one but i reads. and now, as i’m facing my college graduation with a very uncertain career path ahead of me, i’m beginning again. this time i’m focusing my (sexual and womanly) energy into a wordpress blog because, after working as the sex editor for a temple magazine, i’ve decided i want to turn my consistent sexual thought process into a career. and no, this will not be sleazy cosmo sex; mainly because “feel sexy and you’ll be sexy” is not a legitimate solution to sexual inhibition in my eyes, but also because my mother found my myspace so god knows what else could find.

i’ll start with a story i wrote for my sex section (pHilth) for temple’s pH magazine. this was literally written under the gun when my original story was pulled from print for being sexist (editor’s note: remember, a girl can bash a guy and it’s ok but if a guy bashes a girl, it’s the end of the world). despite being written in 2 hours – i work better under pressure anyway – this story won a published work for best personal essay within the journalism department at the school of communications and theater at temple u. so here’s a pat on the back for me and a story for you. enjoy it, in the next post.

oh yea, and all of this is copyrighted material and while i’m flattered that you want to think/write like me, don’t. some of these pictures i will use are my own as well and are copyrighted by individual photographers, so don’t try and use those either.