I Swear I Don't Look for the Crazy. IT FINDS ME. Or: how the informal nature of social media has killed one's sense of propriety.

Wowza. Someone turned the dial all the way up to crazy last night. So... this story has hella long backstory, but it's worth it.

Anyway. I'm on the Twitter. I also like to eat lunch. So if you use key words in your Tweets (boobs wang penisy), people can find you and follow you. So there's a certain restaurant that started following me. It sounded good, so I went to get food from there. I had a little trouble finding the place, had to pass by a homeless dude masturbating TWICE to get there, but fuck it all, I was determined.

I got there, the guy behind the counter gave me a free cookie and a wink. My, how flattering!

Got back to the office, tweeted the Homeless Diddler story and Thanks for the Cookie to said restaurant.

Suddenly, I had a new follower! It's the cashier. Hey, no problem. Seemed nice. Seems nice in DM's (that's Direct Messages, for the Twitter uninitiated). We flirt via DM for a day or two over the weekend, because that's what the kids do nowadays.

Last night, the Twitter is all up in arms about how hot it is. Said restaurant is very excited about the heat. I am not, and decide to tell them so, which starts the DM frenzy with cashier guy again. The following is cut and pasted from my DM feed. Names and avatars have been deleted using my mad photo editing skillz to protect the pervy.

***BIRV YOGA BREAK***

Tick Tick

Tick tick tick

Tick Tick Tick Tick

BOOM

So. YEAH. I have a kitty in my pants and baby talk and free food is all it takes to get to see it. Meow.

I recognize that I could have ended the conversation sooner, and that this is what some may view as an utterly misguided attempt at flirtation (REALLY, though??). Here's the thing. You've probably read some of my previous posts, and most likely, you know me personally. I'm a robustly foul-mouthed girl, and I have ZERO problem with dirty talk, texts, photos multimedia, smoke signals blahhhhh potato. However, I usually like that sort of messaging to happen some time after the "So, do you like dogs?" level of conversation.  Or when our actual real life interaction is something more than me giving you my lunch order. 

Questions, yeah sure. I'll answer questions. I wear panties. I've had sex before. However, I can't remember what your face looks like. Let's not start dog-earing pages of the Kama Sutra just yet. 

PS, when you intimate that you're predicating our dating success on the answer I give to how many times I'll fuck you during a week, I lose faith in men as a species and crawl into bed and imagine that Neil Patrick Harris is straight and wouldn't ask me how wet my pussy gets before asking my last name.

Awesomely, as I've been cobbling this post together, "My Heart Will Go On" has been playing on the radio. Sheer fucking poetry, I tell you.

But Should I Wear Them to Opening Night?

Today's questionable product is actually a CRAFT more than a product, as they aren't for sale... Golden Snitch pasties (from the world of Harry Potter)!

Could anything be more appropriate for a midnight premiere? I THINK NOT!!

Check them out on Craftster, though sadly, inexplicably, there isn't a How-To on this HOW TO website.

Food = Sex: Innuendo Throwdown!

In case Burger King's overtly phallic sandwich ad wasn't enough high-calorie sexytime for you, Hardees has come up with two new ads for their Biscuit Holes. As you can imagine, late-night stoner humor ensues, proving that the advertising houses of today are one small step away from your local frat house common room.

Who wins? Burger King or Hardees? I vote for Burger King, for (dare I say it?) staying just thisside of subtle.

Burger King: Mecca of Tasteful Innuendo

Frankly, I'm surprised that the word "blow" wasn't in a different color, or in bigger font size than the rest of the tagline and mayonnaise wasn't dripping from the poor girl's mouth.

I have to say... I am on the verge of saying kudos to Burger King for just saying "screw you" to everyone that is on a health kick. Or a woman. In the past few years, Burger King has done the opposite of every other fast food chain and strived to make their food as unhealthy as possible. With the Super Seven Incher, BK may as well have flipped the bird at the Surgeon General and thrown lard in his face: "Healthy lifestyle? Fuck that noise!!"

Now if you'll excuse me, I have an overwhelming urge for sausage. No idea why.