Dear Ignorant Cow,

I understand about having to make a living - I really do. I also get that when you own a teeny salon whose clientele is mostly made up of teens; you don’t have the opportunity to make a lot of cash seeing as how they probably have no lunch money left to offer as a tip once they’ve had their acrylic claws attached. Because of that, I can also get ones urge to try to extort extra money out of the well dressed hotties that do come in, but if you’re gonna try to milk some do-lo out of a gal, how about havin’ some couth??

When I walk into a salon for an eyebrow wax and specifically request ONLY an eyebrow wax, I would prefer not to be told about all of the other parts that YOU feel should be waxed. If you’re going to run down a list of your services in hopes that I will bite - that’s fine - can’t blame ya’ for trying, but if you’re going to try to break me down by makin’ me feel ugly? Then be prepared to have a strip torn out of you… no pun intended. Really.

Note the overpriced shoes and bag and great perfume that doesn’t smell like that of a cheap hooker. Also note the groomed nails, perfectly maintained highlights and the little compact that slips from my purse as I rest it on the seat next to me. I have a mirror. I take care of myself. And while I do grow hair in unwanted places like everyone else - I DO NOT HAVE A MUSTACHE!!! It is clear that I keep myself well-groomed, so don’t ya’ think I would know if a mustache??

If you want me to spend more money in your salon; tell me about great new products, offer to touch up my manicure or tell me that you do facials, but DO NOT ask me if I want my upper lip waxed and then proceed to trail your fingers along the skin above my lip and down the sides as though caressing a handlebar mustache!! I am not Burt-fucking-Reynolds you shyster cunt. And when I say “no thank you”; I suggest you leave it at that as opposed to throwing your proper terminology out the window with your tact. Replacing the term “upper lip” with “mustache” and using it several times in a 2 minute span in hopes that it will somehow wear me down enough to agree to a full fucking face and body wax is NOT a good idea.

Warning: today; a rant about a nameless esthetician. Tommorow; a full page write up in the local paper complete with your picture; you rude bush-pig.

Thank you.

I was on a personals site while researching an article and amidst the flurry of friends who have met their lovers/spouses/time-stuffers online, I decided to create a half ass profile (no pic, no names) and give it a go. I admit that I have a teeny issue with commitment (please try to ignore the laughter of my friends) and have never really considered online dating the way to go, but I really did open my mind to trying it out - as much as I could anyway.

I began emailing with this one guy who seemed ideal: attractive, tall, broad shoulders, big hands - he seemed to have it all. I forwarded some pics and he too was pleased with what he saw (naturally).

After the first couple of emails I noticed something worrisome and have tried to explain it to my friends - but the bitches all prefer to analyze my commitment issues instead! How about you readers write in and give me your take on it, cuz’ I think I’ve got a fucking nut-job on my hands!

The issue; he says my name in every email. If we email back and forth 5 or 6 times in a row, he uses my name in each one, even if only 2 minutes apart from the previous email! I don’t mean he starts off the emails with: “Dear Adrie”. No-no-no! It goes somethin’ like this:

Me: Here are some pics so u can put a face 2 the name. Do u have msn or messenger?

Him: You are very attractive Adrie. Its a pleasure to meet you. Yes, I do. Add me Adrie

Me: So, I enjoy the beach, cocktails, travel. What stuff r u in2?

Him: I love the beach too Adrie. Maybe we’ll go 2gether one day.

Me: Maybe. So I was at a great Indian restaurant in your neighbourhood last night called Everest - do u know it? I love living by the lake, we’ve got the greatest bars and eateries.

Him: Yes. You’re very sweet. Adrie I love the beach too.

(me puzzled at why he’s repeating himself)

Him: I work for a big company Adrie.

Me: Do u have any pets? I’m a big pet lover myself.

Him: I used to have a dog. I miss him deeply. Adrie. I would love to meet.

Me: Oh, so sorry - I know how hard it is to lose a pet. Yeah, we can meet one of these days.

Him: You’re gorgeous. We can say hello and have coffee. Adrie. Its a distinct pleasure to meet you.

And that is basically how ALL of his emails go!! And before you ask: Yes, English is his first language!

See??? You’ve gotta see what I mean right? I picture this guy leaning over and squeezing my arm as he stresses my name “Adrie” with one hand while holding an ice pick in the other as he walks me through a dark alley. Its just creepy and no matter how cute or allegedly successful he is; saying my name like that gives me the heebie-jeebies.

Do you think I’m just looking for reasons to not meet him? Would you not be put off by his stalker/sneaky creep/icky pervert tone?? What the fuck?? It can’t be just me, can it??

I have a swollen foot and my ass appears to be flatter than ever. I blame Meme for this. Why? I’ll tell you why: she got me addicted to free porn - more so than I already was!

I read one of Meme’s posts over at Vibrator.com which happened to have a video with it. After being a little freaked by the video; the pervert in me followed the link to see what else I could get my chubby little fingers on - aside from my clit. What was only supposed to be one or two minutes became instead two hours! That was only the beginning. In less than a week I have managed to waste approximately 2 or 3 days worth of time sitting here in heat in front of my lap top. My fucken index finger is swollen for Pete’s sake!!

This time hasn’t all been a waste though, as I have actually seen all kinds of things that I didn’t even know existed and think that I finally have earned my title as a “sexpert” as I was so affectionately referred to on another site. I also learned a lot about myself, such as: I’m turned on by the art of Asian Naked Massage… or maybe just the way it always seems to end with a nice long oral session. I also seem to have acquired a taste for orgy and sex party videos as well as having a new appreciation for Girls Gone Wild style porn (possibly stemming from a longing to be on a permanent spring break).

I admit though that a good few hours was truly wasted watching some weird shit that I watched in the same way as one would a car wreck! For instance: a couple of girls riding car stick shifts - even the big bulbous ones that I would never think would even fit up there! There was a few minutes spent watching a “scat” video which made me feel the need to shower (masturbated again in there) and a couple of videos on lactation, bum-sex-gang-bangs and even a girl getting her cunt filled with some bubbly! Strange.

At risk of it interfering with my work and maybe driving me to do something in horny-haste; I have decided to quit cold turkey… until the weekend. It has been almost 12 hours since my last visit to PornCasting.tv and my finger is finally beginning to lose its shriveled-from-dampness appearance and the wet spots on my desk chair, sofa, bed and fur rug have dried. I’m very proud of myself and feel I should get some kind of chip or certificate for breaking my addiction!

Now that I have had to say goodbye to my crush of the last few years, I realize what a big part crushes play in your life—even long past adolescence.

I had spent the last three years totally burning for this man (no longer referring to him as “The Dick”). During that time; he was the inspiration to an endless amount of stories and poems (I can only do poetry when in the throws of teen-like angst that can only be felt when crushing on someone that you can’t have). He was also the cause of some of my happiest moods, most miserable and heartbreaking lows and many days; the only reason I bothered to show up at work. But now, even sadder than lying in bed wanting him more than ever after a night of hanging out with him, is the loss of the sweet hope that accompanies a crush.

What keeps you crushing is that glimmer of hope that comes from the belief that you two should be together, so when you find out that he has taken off to another country and gotten married—no matter how silly you think the marriage is; there is nothing left to be hopeful of when it comes to him. Sure, you can hope that one of them comes to their senses and opts for an annulment, or even hope that something heavy—like an anvil—falls from a window and crushes him so he too can understand the pain and hurt of being crushed, but you somehow finally know not to waste another moment wanting him.

I spoke to my crush yesterday and though I didn’t verbalize it; finally said goodbye and ended an era. I wanted to wish him well and mean it, because after all, my love for this guy was sincere, as was my concern for his happiness, but I guess I am just not that mature or evolved yet. Of course I want to see him happy, but certainly would have preferred to see him happy with me!

So, after all the tears and the many nights spent alone in bed feeling the female equivalent of blue-balls and a good cry, (my first since finding out that he got married) I have finally exorcized my crush—for real this time.

Love’s a bitch.

If you’ve read my bio, then you’ll know that I’m the new girl around here. Come to think of it; you’re probably only stopping by my post to see if I did indeed have to woo/spank/lick/suck/tickle anyone to get this gig. Well you pervs, you’ll be sorry to know that I did not have to resort to performing sexual favors to be here—only offer them.

Now that we got that out of the way (and probably lost my entire audience), I suppose I should introduce myself: I’m Adrie – a.k.a. The Accidental Sex Writer. Basically, I am a girl with a dirty mind that I can barely keep up with, who wrote a dirty story as a joke, submitted it to a few publications still as a joke and then found it the centre of a bidding war between all of the magazines I sent it to! How could I not become as sex writer after that??

Before all of this, I worked at the airport in every job imaginable; flight attendant, operations, foreign exchange, etc. Like all things; I loved it in the beginning and stayed until I loathed it. I guess you could say I’m the girl who beats the dead horse. I stay until there is absolutely nothing left worth staying for. Epiphany! I do the same in my relationships! (Just saved myself years of therapy by coming to that realization just now) So, I am a sex writer who is also dating in search of a horse—oops—man, who will manage to survive the beatings and always have things worth staying for.

Back to this gig. Reading through this site, the reasons why I would want to be here are just obvious—the girls rock! My less than obvious reasons for wanting to be here are to expand my audience so I can rant about my love/sex life, mainly because my friends and family just can’t take it anymore.

An overview of the current man situation:
- Have two men in another country who are in love with me, neither of which stands a chance just yet.
- Just found out that my crush of the last couple of years went on an Asian vacay and returned married. MARRIED!! I guess “I’m not ready for a relationship” really means: “I HATE YOU… and you’re not Asian”.
- The guys that I think would make great fuck-buddies all end up wanting relationships from me in the end, while the ones that I really care about prefer Asian girls. (Sorry, am still bitter and just can’t help myself)
- I find myself really attracted to one of my editors, but he lives a billion miles away.

So with my vibrator being the closest thing I have to a boyfriend; the search goes on…