Tagged with relationships

Ayo, I’m tired of using Technology

Good morning.

Its technically my morning, because its 3:19 am, and I canNOT sleep. Blame it on the alcohol, that’s what I get for pounding those double-shot margaritas after work.

Drinking in college is for Fun. Drinking after work is for Sanity.

(of course i dont look this fab @ happy hour)

So what you do when you have alcohol-induced insomnia is try to load up on drunk food so you can fall into a carb-induced coma, but since my cabinets are empty and i only have some KALE in the fridge (who was I kidding when I went grocery shopping?)– I had to turn on the TV. and instead of turning on C-SPAN, I watched Sex and the City– SEASON ONE episodes.

& it provided me with some blogging inspiration: The evolution of technology, and how within 10 years– everything has changed. For better, or for worse.

There was a scene in the episode where Carrie and Big run into each other unexpectedly– though they’re in a relationship, and then casually say goodbye. In that moment, it hit me– neither of the two is exactly sure where the other is going, what they’ll be up to, and when they’ll see each other again.

Updates on status had to be given via a land line phone. Which means you had to be home. not mobile.

Or if Carrie had a moment of crisis (which she does in most episodes), she would have to wait until she got home, got to a payphone, so she could catch one of the girls at home, or in their office– tot talk it through. Or she could leave it for Sunday Brunch.

And to think that land lines and pagers and payphone were within my lifetime…well, it blows my mind.

THen it all hit me,

Technology has redefined personal space.  And our love lives. Continue reading

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The Human World is a Mess

Hey joonies,

Been dealing with some major writer’s block lately — so much to say, but so hard to process my thoughts.  I blame responsibility.  But I guess that’s just a part of growing up #overrated.

I feel like I’m starting to see the world so differently these days (I swear I’m not high) compared to a year ago — it’s not all sunshine, people aren’t all good, taxes are f#cking hard (I’m going to get married only to ensure I have someone who will do my taxes for free… thank you Daddy).

I used to be an idealist… optimistic.  I used to think that people in general had good intentions — but then I became a realist.

When I was younger – I never really felt pressure by my parents that I had to be an example.  That expectation to be well-intentioned, moral, smart, successful – all these things didn’t really hit me until college.

When I was younger, my role models were Belle from Beauty and the Beast because she loved to read, and Jasmine (Aladdin) because she was the closest Disney princess to Persian (and I really wanted a pet tiger and to live in a castle).  

Plus I thought Aladdin was kinda hot #ARABObsession

Unfortunately, real life isn’t the same as a Disney movie otherwise by now, I would have become queen of the world with four sexy male concubines to do all my chores for me (as well as other things).  Oh wait… Disney probably wouldn’t be down with that… #sexism.

I am the oldest sibling and the oldest out of my cousins.  While it was never explicitly said, you know how Irooni parents are — you better be someone they can be damn proud of.

I never took that responsibility seriously.  I just always wanted to do whatever I wanted.  Whether that was get wasted at a random frat party or ditch class or make out with some guy I didn’t know.

I never thought my careless decisions would somehow define me and affect my relationships. Continue reading

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Love, or Something Like It.

Hello there,

It feels like this week is dragging, am I the only one who feels like it should be Thursday? Overall, this week has been so blah minus the one highlight: a painless Brazilian wax.

Yes, I am now numb to the what used to feel like a harsh spanking (unless you’re into that #nojudgement) .

Besides these small little discoveries, there is not much else that seems to go on in my life.  I work, eat, blog, sleep. And repeat.  There used to be a big block in my schedule for my METH (my girlfriends), but that space no longer exists. I’ve been forced into withdrawal and like any addict, for awhile, I didn’t know what Rehab to check into?

Turns out, I didn’t get into the Betty Ford Center– I got  the 14 Hour Workdays to Sobriety Program.

So without meth, and without sex, I’ve been thinking a lot about…Love.

Let me give you some background on what L-O-V-E means to me. (and when I say love, I mean anything from strong crush–eternal love) Do you know what my favorite movie was from the 90s? #blastfromthepast

Yeah, 10 things I hate about you. If there was ever a love story I would love to live, that would be the one– not cause its Shakespeare, and not cause its Heath Ledger, but because Cynical-Feminist meets Dangerous BadA$$ and then writes him a poem about how much she hates everything about him (which is code for I love you). Watch the scene below:

If Love was a man, that is the poem I’d read for him, before storming out. Continue reading

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Here’s my Number, Call me…Maybe?

JOONS.

There’s been a lot of politic and office blabber as of late– and we all know you joonies bookmark this blog for some sexytime.

Unfortunately, the problem with committing to being a sex blogger is that you have to have sex. And while I’m missing some action in my life right now, I’ve been blessed with some variety in the past because, wouldn’t it be boring if an S&F blogger had sex with only one person?

Wait, scratch that—Wouldn’t it be boring if anyone had sex with only one person?

One is too little. How many is too many?

(or as BiBi would say, where’s the red line?)

Obviously there’s no number that works for everyone, but for the average person of this generation, keeping the number low is going to be difficult– considering people get into relationships at a SNAIL’s PACE.

And we all have needs.

But then again, we all have self-control too.

What an internal battle, huh? And then (if it applies) add the whole “Persian girl stuck in an image conscious culture” element, and BAM, you have a serious number complex.

And I’ve done my fair share of research, asking guys I know from all different backgrounds,

Would you care about a girl’s number?

and a lot of them are very PC with their answer, but if you keep prying, they’ll say

“Well, I wouldn’t ask…but if its high then I mean..you think something’s up…

If its been with guys she was serious with, then it’s fine” 

“I mean as long as its not crazy like 25 or something”

Most of them said this, and I was thinking

“So you’re probably pro-abortion, but you kinda still wanna tell me what to do with my body?” Continue reading

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Yeah, She’s D for D.

ayy JOONAMS

Hope we made the early week a little more bearable  for you guys with a little humor on the tumbLOLr (tumble here).  As for myself, I’ve been putting this song on REPEAT…mourning over the fun/careless summer I never had #firstworldproblems #momoneymoproblems

hit play if you feel like your summer was unjustly cut short, too.

Do you know what’s great about speaking another language a.k.a Persian/Farsi?

The sh!t talking.

Yes, we’re all guilty of being mean in our mother tongue. It’s a privilege we use and abuse.

And its not just Iranians– anyone with the advantage of a second language can and does do it. I swear my nail lady is always talking smack about me in a voice that’s barely above a whisper.  However, for my friends and I- Farsi doesn’t cut it anymore.

In California: Talk Shit, Get Hit. Especially if its in Persian. The chance that someone in the room understands you is more than 50%, and the chance that you’re talking about a Persian is even higher.

So when all else fails, we use acronyms. And this was a long-winded introduction for our most meaningful one yet:

D for D = Desperate for D!CK Continue reading

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Riding In Cars With Boys

JOONIES:

It’s official- summer is ending.  I haven’t really felt any humidity for a few days, the AC is officially off… not that I’m a fan of humidity or anything, but is it just me or did this summer go by REALLY FAST?

Now I have to prepare for snow and freezing cold weather- we all know how well that will turn out #CaliGirlForLife.  Bring on the face masks.

At least it’s pretty

When I was younger… before the drama hit the fan and I had to assume a shit ton of responsibility and act like a parent… my mom and I had a very special relationship.

She would excuse me from class so that we could have mother/daughter days.  She used to take me shopping on a biweekly basis.  We would sit and talk for hours about everything going on in my life- I would confide in her about boys, friends, my secrets (not relating to sex OBVS).

My mom was the first person I would tell if I had a new boyfriend.  Of course, our “sharing” had guidelines.

1.  Never ever tell her if I had hooked up/given head/made out shamelessly in my high school boyfriend’s car.

2.  NEVER admit to ditching class as much as I did.

3. And most importantly, never show any weakness if a boyfriend broke up with me and I was sad AKA NO CRYING.

THAT was non-negotiable– because to her, crying over a boy was as bad as killing someone. Continue reading

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& The Oscar Goes To…

Hello Joonies,

Happy Labor Day Weekend: a holiday that’s lost its historical significance, but we shop and party hard for it anyway.

As for myself, I didn’t really shop (that’s a lie, I’m an addict) or party– but I did think about sex a lot. Because I haven’t been having any…and while that’s a tragic topic on its own, I was thinking more about

Faking Orgasms.

I know it seems I’m getting a little ahead of myself since I have no one to fake it with, but that’s exactly why I wanted to write about this. Sex and Orgasms have become two very different dry spells:

 I’ve been having real O’s courtesy of my little friend — and I can have it whenever, wherever (no, not at work). With sex, its not as convenient, and definitely not as much of a guarantee.  Here comes the earth-shattering fact of the day: Not every woman orgasms from sex..every time.

While for every girl that may seem like old news, there are a lot of guys who think “but she’s never been with me”. Especially Persian doodool-talas. I mean, it is made of gold…

Every persian guy thinks he’s going to be the golden doodool to rock your world.

Continue reading

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Bringing Sexy Back

JOONIES.

So today I found out– that it’s not me, it’s my oven. It doesn’t work and so instead of starving I decided to order pizza. After which I had the realization, I don’t think any man comes close to the way I feel about Stuffed Crust Pizza.

The best sex or Stuffed Crust Pizza? You know, in all honesty, I’d hesitate on that one.

As you can tell, I’m multi-tasking today, blogging/stuffing my face.

So in a topic completely un-related, I want to talk about…SEXY.

A while ago, I asked what it meant to be, like, really deep? And you know, SEXY is also an ambiguous term. Is it Kate Upton on the cover of  GQ? or is it one of those days when you wake up and decide you kick ass?

Is it Cleavage or Confidence?

To tell you the truth, it’s probably a bit of both. Sexy, like other things, is in the eye of the beholder.

Some guys I talk to think sexy is their girlfriend after an intense work, and some girls think nothing is sexier than guy with ambition.

The only real truth about sex appeal is that it is universal.

As a woman (because that’s the only perspective I can speak from, although I wish I could be a sexy man for a day) I think sex appeal is a dangerous game to play. Now, I’m not a bra-burning feminist– and I’m definitely nobody’s mother. But the other day, I was at a frat party– I’m too old to be going to those– and I was pretty shocked at what I saw.

Girls in lace bras, see through shirts, booty shorts, skirts, and sky high heels– roaming around a house that smells like beer trying to find a boy to hang onto. This is old news, and I am not saying I was above this scene when I was in school–

I don’t care if they have sex with random frat boys, or they drink til they pass out (I mean I care, but really…we’ve all been there). But I kind of cared that all of them seemed so insecure.

But for the first time (sober), when I looked at these young freshmen girls I saw them for what they really were: little kids playing dress-up, uncomfortable in their skin, and really just trying to be desired. For them, the frat guys validated their sex appeal. Continue reading

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What College Taught Me About Sex

Joonies, for those of you in college/going to college—I know you’re looking forward to the stellar academic opportunities coming your way. I mean which Persian family lets their kids go to a party school anyway? Pshhtttt..

But realistically, whether you decide to keep your head in the books or rage from Margarita Mondays to SundayFundays – you’re going to have to deal with sex in college. Directly or indirectly because your roommate keeps kicking you out with a post-it on the door.

There are a few lessons you learn only after you’ve become a seasoned college student with a penchant for self-pity. Lucky for you guys, I’m not only seasoned, I’m fully marinated.

Continue reading

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I Dated My Dad

JOONS:

It’s true… I dated my father– but not in the way you think (don’t be gross).  NOT literally.

We’ve all heard this before:

Girls always end up with someone like their father and boys end up with someone like their mother.

And if they’re Persian boys– it only makes sense.  They’re going to be attracted to someone who will nurture and care for their doodooltala-ness (let’s be real).

My dad never really cared for the guys I brought home.  He was always nice to them (aka never had any guns attached to his waist), but he never connected with on a personal level — he was never excited to hang out with them.

Then again, I haven’t given him much material to work with.  My dating history is as bad as the sour milk still in the fridge.  I’ve dated anyTHING from a cheating loser to a dependent bacheh (child) who couldn’t go down the escalator without holding my hand (THERE’S ONLY ROOM FOR ONE PERSON PER STEP).

Continue reading

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