This week Lexie was nowhere to be found so I was left to my own devices.

So I called up my favorite Cowboy from the newest addition to the Spoke Family: cowboyspoke. He is best known for the trash talking he did at the site, Jack of All Blogs, over at the now defunct Fine Fools Network but with my charm and good looks I was able to bring him into this network…who are we kidding? I promised him sexual favors, but he’s the sucker because he lives 2000 miles away and can’t possibly cash in on the promise.

girlspoke’s unsolicited bad-advice columnist

Sure, there are a lot of advice columns out there about dating and sex, but none quite like this one. Let me introduce myself. I’m Zoie, a serial monogamist with a strong, consistent record for cheating on whoever I happen to be dating. Just to give you an idea what I am capable of, I once screwed around with three people in the same day. One of them was engaged; two of them were roommates; not all of them were men. I go through them so quick because I am just that good at relationships. I am even better when you get me drinking. My panties somehow fall to my ankles of their own accord when I have as little as half a glass of wine. I make my best relationship decisions under these conditions.

I am sure you can understand why, when girlspoke was in need of a dating/sex advice columnist, they turned to me. Who better to dole out advice on the art of loving and being loved than Zoie? No one is more full of it (advice, that is) than me.

Did I mention the advice I give is unsolicited? Not everybody has the courage to ask for help. That’s where I come in. I scour the blogosphere looking for those who need my expert opinion on the art of love — and the game of lust.

This week, I turn my attention to Kristin at grow some testicles, who has a little dating problem. Here’s the situation:

Haha, everytime I think I’m taking a break, something happens. This time, the theatre company that I’m doing my show with decided to have a party in the theatre tonight. Cool, woohoo. Lots of free booze, I love it. Soooooooo, I’m talking to the playwright that has expressed interest. I’m still not sure about him, as y’all know, but he asks for my #, and I give it to him. (My policy is to always give ppl a chance). This is very early on in the evening. So, we’re all chatting, networking, the usual, and this totally hot actor is talking, and maybe flirting(?) with me? I can’t tell. But again, we’re partying on stage, so he’s like, oh, we should sit down, and leads me to sit down with him backstage… Oh! I didn’t realize. So we’re talking backstage, alone, and it feels really awkward, like we’re 12, or something, and everyone starts making fun of us, like we’re making out, but we’re not, and then he actually DOES kiss me, and woah. It was nice, but short. And then the party breaks up, and he leaves, and doesn’t get my #, and I’m disappointed. But I’ll see him at the next show, so I guess I shouldn’t be. I guess I’m just confused. I think I’m not entirely sure what just happened….

Wait a sec. What just happened here? Kristin gives her number out to a playwright — just because she’s an upstanding person who gives people a chance — but she doesn’t kiss him. Then she lets an actor kiss her, but he doesn’t ask for her number. What went wrong? Kristin clearly needs some direction.

First, donate. Giving out your number is not a charitable action. If you want to show goodwill toward your fellow people, give your number to a charity, then stand by to answer the phone when that charity calls with its solicitations. And be prepared to spread your wallet wide open, exposing its supple skin, as you give it the best donation it’s ever had.

Second, barter. If you run into a hot actor at a party, I’d advise against slinking off with him at all. And I would definitely be leery about slinking off with him like a brace-faced middle-schooler who can’t wait to be felt up in the coat closet during recess by the popular boy. Having said that, I understand hormones can lead a girl to make bad decisions. (I’ve totally been there, like, bunches of times.) So if you have to make out with hot actor guy, give him your number up front. Or make a game of it: For every sexual act you perform, he must write down one digit of your phone number. I am sure with an offer like that — and a clear articulation of the seven to ten nasty things you’d be willing to do with him — hot actor guy would suddenly want your number in its entirety. (He might even ask for a second number at which you can be reached.) Make sure you give him the digits in order, though, or he will spend an inordinate amount of time trying all the possible combinations before he finally finds the right one.

Third, put out. My final piece of advice involves the playwright. You should fuck him. Why not? It’s the perfect strategy. Fuck him and then, while the two of you are lying in bed smoking cigarettes, take advantage of his vulnerability. He won’t be thinking clearly. This is the time to tell him how talented you think hot actor guy is. Tell him you would really like to see hot actor guy cast as the lead in the playwright’s next play. The playwright will surely do your bidding, especially if he thinks he’ll get another sprig out of you. And then he will invite you to that play’s wrap party, where you will have another chance to get with hot actor guy. (If you play your cards right, you might even hook up with a hotter actor guy at that party).

Now, get out there and get busy,
Zoie

As the year comes to end we’ve been taking stock of all the joy and happiness created here at girlspoke. It’s been a crazy year and well one that perhaps I will need to drink heavily to forget. It hasn’t been all bad…hey, 2005 was the founding year of girlspoke and that is reason enough to celebrate.

So, along the sidebar we have this fun little box that keeps track of the most popular posts using some complicated algebraic formula which no doubt employs Pi and String Theory. But it always seemed to lack that human element. Sure it calculates clicks and views and blah, blah, blah but it never once asks the reader for his/her opinion. And that’s what we want to do today. Using the Top Ten Posts from the popularity equation tell us which one is your favorite….

The folowing posts are up for nomination (in no particular order):

- Fuck Me!
- just take me. you know you want to.
- Managing the Nether Regions
- Will Dress Like Total Slut In Exchange For Date To Halloween Party
- Today’s Post Will Have The Sexiest Comments Ever
- Top Ten Tips to Getting Laid - A beginner’s Guide
- Not in My Panties
- contrary to popular belief, this is not a sex blog
- Look Who’s New at the Girlspoke Gangbang
- Are You My Future Husband?

I hope you had a lovely Christmas, or if you don’t celebrate (how the fuck could you not celebrate? it’s like an American tradition, you unpatriotic sonofabitch), I hope you had a nice boring Sunday.

As a gal that does celebrate Christmas for the pure materialistic phenomenon that it is, I am going to give you just the comedown that you need from this season of shove-that-cheer- up-your-ass- fatman: a pure dose of tough love. I’ve got to level with you kids; this week is not looking pretty. In fact, if you were within arm’s reach, you’d get a nice dose of physical abuse instead of the beeping of my bullshit detector. You see, people tend to start spewing lots of crap around this time of year. Lucky for you, I am here to keep you on the straight and narrow. At least you have that to be happy about this holiday. Even if you did get a pile of worthless, oversized, tasteless gifts.

Ok, enough of my rants (I’m bitter that Meme is making me work on BABY JESUS DAY). Here’s the twist: I’m going to list your horoscopes in no partcular order. Well, they’ll be in order, but not by your sign. Just find a category that fits you the best and learn something new.

I hear you: But, why Jenna? Why the fuck are doing that, you annoying retard? Well, darling, I think I’m doing it because I’m lazy. And being lazy is SO my balls right now.

See the heading and gain some knowledge. Simple, right? Onward, ho’s.

Bloggers
Heh. I started with you because you are the most screwed. In short, remember that you are not cool. Really, no writers are cool. Even the cool ones kind of suck ass. I know, I know. You want to blog, NEED to blog. I get it. Just remember that people like you make my job a whole lot easier. This week, you’ll likely write something about your New Year’s resolutions, how much you wish you had someone to share the holidays with, or maybe something involving your new toys and an incredible hangover. b.o.r.i.n.g. If you’re looking to emerge from this quagmire of lame, try switching it up a bit. Either realize the world, in fact, does not revolve around you, or start posting titty shots. Everyone loves a little boob.

Computer Tech Types
You are actually in decent shape, my little computer geek. You’ve been riding this wave of Geeks Are Hot and have managed to establish yourself somewhat among the cool kids. (Or, you know, have been working toward leaving your house at least once a week.) The thing is that you’ll soon need to work at maintaining this social status. You’re one of the few that actually should get a gym membership, though I know you won’t. It’s just as well, because I’m sure you’d never use it anyway. Instead, focus your energy on getting onto Project Runway. Trust me. The irony of the situation is a humor that will outlive your plastic framed glasses. Oh, but you should probably do away with the facial hair. The scruffy look never did do it for anyone.

Alcoholics
Dude, you fucking drink too much. Sober up, shithead. It’s a miracle you haven’t been publically humiliated this week with all those holiday parties, so cut your losses. At least switch your substance of abuse. The money you’d spend on higher end addictives is an investment far more sound than your financial advisor would suggest. Tara Reid? Boozer. Trash. Not hot. Kate Moss? Every other supermodel or Hollywood “It Girl”? They’re all sportin’ the nose candy and evading the skanky photo-ops in the process. Play it safe though, and hire a nutritionist to keep you from shedding too many pounds. Remember, it’s all about the image.

Whores
This whole slutty gig is cool and all because it’s giving you what you want, but let’s be serious. Attention is only worthwhile when it’s coming from men who do not boast the ’stache. Further, you feel the guilt and it’s totally starting to show. A guilty whore is no better than a wet dog. Not only do they smell a little, but now they also look kinda funny. It’s a buzzkill, my love. You’re going to need to reassess this week. As I see it, you have two options. One: go all out and just fuck for money. Two: drop the act and use your fucking brain before Friedan and Steinem get all feminist on your VD’d ass.

Pretentious Pricks
Ahh, the PP! You guys have it made because there’s always a live-long-and-prosper niche for you in this world. You are everywhere and you’re not showing any signs of moving on. However, you too can ruin what you’ve established by forgetting a cardinal rule. In order to maintain your facade of superiority, the art of sarcasm and parody is your closest friend. During those times when you are actually called on behaving like the aforementioned ass that you are, you need to be quick and witty. Oh, surely you didn’t think I was serious! C’mon, with people like you around, how could I be so manipulative! It’s immoral! (The backsided compliment is your trump card when in a pinch.)

Overspenders
We all know your deal. The thing that sucks is that you think we don’t. I mean, whether you’re cool or lame is not going to be swayed much by your attire or current ride. I’ll give you an example. Ew, there goes Jane. She’s such a bitch. Though, she did have some hot fucking boots! I mean, what’s most memorable here? The “she sucks” sentiment or the fact that she has good taste? Contrary to what you think, we’ll remember your nauseating attitude much longer than your boots. In fact, your attitude will likely sway our judgement of said boots. (Especially if they’re Uggs. Only a wench like you would pay $200 for some ugly-ass slippers.) This week, try something new. Wear the same thing twice!

Workhorses
This is the place to be. Honestly, if you can manage to work your ass off now, resisiting the urge to sleep in like the rest of us imbibing fools, I salute you. I mean, sure you’re going to annoy the shit out of some people here and there, but as long as you are making buttloads of cash, you can even the load in the long-run. Make sure at least 15-20% of your net worth goes to charitable groups and you’ll be hotter than Bono and Angelina in the midst of poverty-stricken Africa. Plus, you’ve been scoring more oral sex than Clinton all along the way! And isn’t that what life is really all about? Yes, Mr. Gates. Yes, it is.

Hipsters
Change it up before it’s too late. 2006 will turn you all into the next Kool-Aid drinking, Scientology practicing, all-black wearing freaks that you are. And by then, you’ll be the social outcast that you’ve been pretending to be all along. While you cry, we shall laugh. So just cut your goddamn hair and stop wearing women’s jeans.

Those of you who are thinking What if I’m more than one category?!
You are so predictable. (And that’s annoying.) You need to make that leap, you whiney little bitch. Decisions can be scary. Yeah, whatever. Life is so stressful. Get over it. You’re going to make the wrong choice, just like everyone esle. Learn to deal. If you can’t, kindly leave. And by leave, I mean, be more like me. Or just drink more red wine before it’s time to choose; wine makes things seem all the more what-the-fuck-ever! (Which is why I’ve been drinking lots of it while writing this for you all.)

Don’t drink too much on New Years’. And for the love of humanity, find someone—anyone—to kiss at midnight.

This week Suki came over, bearing pie and wine. Apparently, he thought he knew what he was in for.

I don’t think he expected discussion of hand-me-down vibrators and “mental TIVOs”. Soon after this photograph was taken, he curled up in the fetal position and started asking for his shrink.

Take a listen:

HOSS!

Occasionally I feel the big green monster sneaking up on me when I hear some of the single Girlspokers discuss their hot new dates for the weekend or the anonymous sex they had the other night. Although I am very satisfied and happy with my boyfriend (we’re coming up to our three year sentence anniversary) I do miss that fiery, spunky, independence that can only come from a single woman fending for herself and loving it. So without further ado, I give you why I wish I was single again, and why I love having a boyfriend.

Top five things I miss about being single:

1. First kisses
2. First kisses in the back alleyway of a bar with your skirt pulled up around your thighs and not even bothering to take his number afterwards
3. Boozy girl’s nights out on the prowl
4. Flirting with intent (because lord knows I still flirt now – I just shut them down with the “Sorry, I’ve got a boyfriend” line at the last minute)

And the top reason I miss being single…

5. Putting more notches on my bed post (AKA the joy of “new” cock)

Top five things I love about being in a relationship:

1. Always having a date for office Christmas parties and friend’s weddings
2. Never having to hear “I can’t believe you’re still single” from tactless relatives
3. Having someone who is willing to support you financially once you get fired during the fucking Christmas season by your lying boss
4. Having someone around to fix light bulbs/kill bugs/hold your hair back when you’re puking-up that nights 3 bottles of wine

And the top reason I love being in a relationship…

5. Always knowing where my next fuck is coming from

So Meme asks me, can you post something and I think aaack! Absolutely nothing is going on in my life except the freakin mammagram ( don’t ask!) I have scheduled on Friday and the garage sale I had on Sunday. But, truth be told, one only has to surf the internet–preferably on someone else’s dime–to hit pay dirt.

Go on over to the Guinness World Records web site and amuse yourself with people like this and this. There really are some talented people out there. Then try to come up with a few yourself.

Oh, and sorry Meme, this guy’s got you beat.

In honor of Guinness-wherever he may now be–I bring to you Casey’s Blog of World Records.

Longest Period of Celibacy: First 14 years of my life
Fewest Dates in a Calendar Year: 2005
Greatest Orgasm Everâ„¢: Having sex all night and then climaxing (again) right as the alarm sounds and then laughing uncontrollably (PS fellas, I was on top)
Lamest Excuse I Ever Gave: I’ll only keep hurting your feelings
Lamest Excuse Ever Given to Me: You’ll find someone else much better than me
Worst Date with a Guy I Actually Really Liked: He picks me up, gets a parking ticket in front of my house, later gets pulled over by cops for expired tags, and then gets his car broken into in front of my house
Worst Date with a Guy I Really Did Not Like: He shows up late, takes me out to dinner at a strip mall for meatball sandwiches, and then he drives to the marina and parks the car where we sit and eat the sandwiches (I guess this could have been sweet had I actually felt something for the man)
Biggest Waste of Time: My second boyfriend. Why did we spend those four years when we were in our early twenties living together and hating each other? Those were the best years of our lives!
Most Romantic Gesture Ever Thrown My Way: Boyfriend-at-time carves our intitals into a pumpkin, takes a polaroid and mails it to me when I am living abroad. Keeps pumpkin lit in front of his door until I return home
Most Romantic Gesture I Have Ever Thrown Someone Else’s Way: Hand stiching a wee book of why-I-like-you notes while sitting in the passenger seat driving across country. Let’s just say, I had a lot of time on my hands and somebody was too paranoid to teach me how to drive stick
Most Unusual Spot (and I think you know what I am talking about here): Behind the library
Spot in Which I’d Like to the Most: Inside the library
Guiltiest Pleasure for Which I Am Not at All Embarrassed: I know all the words to Hair
Guiltiest Pleasure for Which I Am Somewhat Embarrassed: I also know all the words to Jesus Christ Superstar
Guiltiest Pleasure for Which I Will Never Admit: Getting a little teary-eyed listening to Howard Stern’s last broadcast
Saddest Song Played the Most Amount of Times on My Car Stereo This Past Year: Where Does The Good Go? by Tegan & Sara
Highest Number of States in Which I Have Been Inebriated: 18
Highest Number of States in Which I Have Been: 18
Biggest Shame: That I still cannot drive a stick shift car
Longest Unrequited Crush: 12 years, 6 months and 14 days
Greatest Moment of Sudden & Shocking Sobriety: My last birthday
Highest Number of Times to Which I Have Been Proposed: One
Highest Number of Times to Which I Have Been Proposed While Proposee Was Sober: Zero
Facial Feature Most Guaranteed to Make Me Weak in the Knees: The nose. Bonus points if it is/looks broken
Most Favored Word to Be Used by Casey for No Particular Reason in 2006: Hoss. Thank you Johnny & Merle

Okay, kids. Jenna (still) has a headache, so try not to be too crazy today. You see, some of us gals got together this weekend and had ourselves a bit of a party. I’m pretty sure there was a photographer on hand, but I will yell PHOTOSHOPPED! if presented with anything incriminating.

All I will say is:

1. Lexie is perfect for NY and vice versa.
2. Some bloggers are actually funny in person, too (but not many).
3. I need Meme’s address because I accidentally wore her bra home.

I totally knew there was going to be a raging party this weekend, so I showed up. And because I showed, it totally was just that: a raging party. Now let’s see how the rest of you are going to perform this week.

Aries (March 21-April 19)
You know what my fair Aries? You’re going to have one of those weeks that is just….decent. You will have no drama, no unfortunate car problems, no resurfacing exes, and absolutely no difficulty finishing up with all your holiday crap. Of course, you’re also, at times, going to be bored, wish for a nicer form of transportation, whine about your lack of action, and realize you don’t have many friends to buy gifts for this year. Sometimes you just need to be happy with breaking even. And if you aren’t, be prepared for bitches to hate on your perfect little ass.

Taurus (April 20-May 20)
Organization has been on your mind for the past few weeks. (Or longer–We all know how you fucking obsess!) You are finally ready to flip on auto-pilot for a few minutes to take a breather. But when you’re leaning back on that rocking chair, pulling on your pipe, don’t start to get all paranoid. Even if taking a step back has actually revealed some problems, you need to remember that you are not, and never will be, capable of perfection. Goddamnit, that’s what I’m here for! (So remember to buy me something nice for Christmas.)

Gemini (May 21-June 21)
This week will continue some of that forward movement that you’ve been workin’, my Gemini. Keep in mind, though, that you have been snowballing down a mountain and now things will start to ease up. Don’t get all fucking whiney; just remember that things take time, you impatient ass. This slowdown is an opportunity for you to reassess some of the finer details you may have been overlooking, both business and pleasure. You need to make some preparations for this upcoming whirlwind of a year. And I’m so not telling you what’s going to happen! Naner-naner-naner!

Cancer (June 22-July 22)
It is nice to be home, isn’t it? Family is such an important part of life, you know? That Christmas Tree/Blogmukkah bush looks amazing, right? Yes, yes, and fucking yes, already. Every year you set yourself up for the post-holiday blues when you fabricate the actual events into some blissful snowglobe of merriment. Well, barf. You know it’s going to be disappointing when you have to leave or when you realize Grandma doesn’t remember your name. Brace for this impact a bit better than you did last year so you don’t end up crying through New Year’s.

Leo (July 23-August 22)
You’ve been playing a game haven’t you? No, smartass–not literally. I’m talking about those kinds of games where the winner gets to act all glib and the loser gets to pay for five years of unsubsidized therapy. You may think you’re slick, but you are so close to capture that even your blind-date-watchin’-bachelor buddies are cringing. I assure you that the embers of her fury are alive and ready to blaze up all over your smug face (hey, it’s what she’s saying, not me). I’d suggest you use this week to back peddle like a champ. Oh, and: deny, deny, deny.

Virgo (August 23-September 22)
From the viewpoint of an unbiased bystander, you’ve got your shit straight. You’re balancing a myriad of those spinny plate things and have yet to drop a single fucking one. Bravo. Unfortunately, I’m not an unbiased bystander; I’m your overly opinionated astrologer. Sweets, you need to cut the shit and deal with some of those fucking skeletons. They have escaped your unorganized closet and are making their way down Broadway to parade all that stands for your misery. Go tackle those bastards before you have a breakdown during their final dance all over your lack of balls.

Libra (September 23-October 22)
The holidays suit you fine because there’s enough drama to keep you firmly in the role of mediation. The bitch of it is that you’re using this to hide from your own issues. Trying to pretend you’re the big holiday martyr may be earning you some kudos from the rest of the clan, but–let’s face it–kudos aren’t going to pay that massive credit card debt, are they, jingle bell? (In case you’re confused, the answer is no; no they are not.) You can’t help with jack shit if you’re not even good at handling yourself (Ew! Not that kind of self-handling! Maybe this problem is deeper than I’d thought…)

Scorpio (October 23-November 21)
You know what, Scorpio? Everyone knows that the Christmas songs are a bit grating. Everyone knows that you’re sick of waking up with Away in a Manger stuck in your head because, for fuck’s sake, you don’t even believe in Jesus! The thing is that everyone else in the world is sucking it up and you’re just sitting there whining like a little bitch. I’m here to tell you to get over it or kindly turn your cheek so I can slap you. You’ll never survive the holidays with that bullshit attitude.

Sagittarius (November 22-December 21)
You’re one of the few that is actually having a positive week, my little archer. My concern (as much as your e-astrologer could possibly feel concern) is that you’re too distracted to notice. I’m not sure what has been holding your attention as of late, but you’re missing out on some quality moments–the kind of moments that are not typically deemed Kodak, if you know what I mean. Promptly get your head out of your ass and catch yourself up to speed.

Capricorn (December 22-January 19)
You’re totally giddy about the holidays, aren’t you? Oh shut the fuck up, you are! It’s OK! Contrary to popular belief, it’s actually acceptable to enjoy the Christmas carols that have flooded all radio airwaves. It’s also perfectly fine to return the greeting of one of those haggardly Salvation Army bell ringers (Seriously, where do they get those people?!). Lastly, it’s even kosher to smile when you see that little girl scramble onto Santa’s lap at the mall, because it IS fucking cute, isn’t it?! Just remember, this week, that it is NOT OK to continue to drool outside of the Victoria’s Secret window display. Dude, they’re mannequins for crying out loud. Pull yourself together.

Aquarius (January 20-February 18)
This is the year, my soggy friend. It’s intervention time. Sit down and remove your wallet from your back pocket. I’m here to tell you that this is the very last season that you will continue to be such a cheap fucking bastard. Don’t even argue. That ornament you got for your mom totally came with an 8-pack of Energizer batteries. I saw it on display at Super WalMart. Oh, and wrapping it in some old comics pages from the newspaper is no longer cute. It’s tacky and it’s repulsive. Go buy some really classy presents before your family decides that maybe you were adopted.

Pisces (February 19-March 20)
This whole reverse-psychology thing is just not going to work out, Pisces. You are acting all big and bad, and it’s actually fairly convincing. However, when your bitchy co-worker or irritable hag of a neighbor seems more compassionate than you, something has gone terribly awry. An old, wrinkly actor-turned President once said, “Tear down that wall!” Listen to the dead man! If life was meant to be this numbing, we’d all be like your mother and drink liquid morphine instead of water.

If you have any complaints, please forward them to my publicist. I managed to score one of those at the party and I think he’s eager to gather some names for me. I only have to bang five men and I’m set with a book deal! Woot!? Oooh, ouch. Pass the Advil, please.

All I have to say is:

Please, slap me if you EVER hear me say dude, shut up or so hot again.

and

I’m not letting Meme edit these fucking things ANY MORE.

That being said, here’s the audio:

and here’s the umbrella:

Being the organized person that I am I figured it was time for me to be realistic about my inevitable end. You see, the Ouiji board told me I had four years to go and well, I’m inclined to believe this since I wasn’t moving that damn thing, it was moving all on its own, right?

That being the case I have specific instructions for this blog.

This blog is like my baby. I nurtured it. I cleaned the crap from it. I nearly breastfeed it. Now that it’s all grown up I want to make sure that it’s well taken care of. You see, it would pain me so to think this blog might be taken to the dark side. So I submit the following will in case of the event of my untimely demise. And, well, now that Lexie is living with me I suspect it may be sooner than the Ouiji board predicted.

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