My co-worker sent me this site today and I'm totally addicted. It's called I Bang the Worst Dudes (Sorry Mom) and is a site where girls can upload stories about their most horrific conquests. Sleazy? Sure. But it's hilarious and will make you feel better about even your worst experience. Below is are some blog-friendly G-rated samples:
"This trendy hipster douche gave me multiple American Apparel v-neck shirts over the short 2 weeks we apparently “had a relationship” and practically forced me to wear them when we had sex. Not to mention he once blamed his inability to get it up on the fact that I played CDs when we had sex which “really turned him off since CD’s don’t have the rich warm tones of vinyl.” He can go ahead and talk about LPs and skinny jeans with someone else. "
"This guy always made us bone to the soundtrack from the Disney Movie “Aladdin”. Even worse, the CD skipped terribly, and he would stop and throw random objects at the stereo to make it play. After we were finished he would go to my fridge and drink an entire two-liter bottle of pop. Wow. "
"This dude blamed his studies, his rough childhood and most of all his hopeless funk band for not “being able to give me anything,” in bed when he failed to deliver. The only memorable thing about the mediocre sex was him insisting on being called “The Manimal” in bed. Half a year after I gave up on him he started sending me a slew of sensual self-portraits."
"This trendy hipster douche gave me multiple American Apparel v-neck shirts over the short 2 weeks we apparently “had a relationship” and practically forced me to wear them when we had sex. Not to mention he once blamed his inability to get it up on the fact that I played CDs when we had sex which “really turned him off since CD’s don’t have the rich warm tones of vinyl.” He can go ahead and talk about LPs and skinny jeans with someone else. "
"This guy always made us bone to the soundtrack from the Disney Movie “Aladdin”. Even worse, the CD skipped terribly, and he would stop and throw random objects at the stereo to make it play. After we were finished he would go to my fridge and drink an entire two-liter bottle of pop. Wow. "
"This dude blamed his studies, his rough childhood and most of all his hopeless funk band for not “being able to give me anything,” in bed when he failed to deliver. The only memorable thing about the mediocre sex was him insisting on being called “The Manimal” in bed. Half a year after I gave up on him he started sending me a slew of sensual self-portraits."
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