speaking of….

whats the current events these days. What are people talking about. People often ask why do i blog totally random shit. Its rare that i care about current events. This is an election year so i can’t be apolitical, but on the same note, i’m not interested in discussing policy with you. For what, i’m not a congressman. I don’t care that much whether McCain or Obama win’s. I don’t care about any of the bullshit t.v that people watch to pass time. I can care less about my skinny coworkers emotional state at work.  I don’t care because the shit is not interesting. I care about sexdrugsmoney. I wanna know whats the biggest check you ever cashed. I wanna know what it was like the first time you did a line of coke. I wanna know if you enjoy threesomes as much as i do. Thats something we can talk about for hours. After all i wouldn’t bore you talking metaphysics or the importance of John Dewey to the educational system.

college was bad for my balls, and other stories…

SEASONS IN THE ABYSS

College Sex Disasters

ILLUSTRATIONS BY JESSICA PENFOLD

I NAILED MY STALKER
I was a bit spooked when in my first term of uni I started getting sexy notes posted through my halls of residence door. They said things like, “I saw you at the Get Up Kids show last Friday. I want you inside me.” It appeared there was a rather keen girl who shared my embarrassing interest in emo. Over the next few months, the notes got more regular, and more freaky – terrible emo lyrics juxtaposed with weird sex stuff she wanted to do to me. One time I found one posted through my bedroom window – I was thinking about speaking to the campus security. Plus, I’d had a tip-off from a friend at our neighbouring St. Thomas’ Halls that there was this ugly, psychotic little skater girl there who was obsessed with me.

At our college’s end of term party I lost the plot a bit. I’m not a big drinker, and had been dragged to the party against my will, so decided to get wasted. I started necking pints of Deadly Cobra (Snakebite and black with a double vodka) and by 10 PM I couldn’t remember my name. By 11 PM I was at the mercy of my loins, and found myself licking the fillings of the nearest female – with absolutely no idea what she looked like, or who she was.

By midnight I was back at hers, pummelling away at her troll-like frame. Come morning, I ascertained my whereabouts – St. Thomas’ Halls – before excitedly telling my companion about my St. Thomas stalker. Maybe she knew her? She didn’t say anything. When she got up to go to the toilet, I gazed across at her CD rack – Thursday, The Movielife, Saves The Day – uh oh, yes, I might’ve just impregnated my stalker. By the time she returned, I was running like the wind.

JAMIE HOLMES

RUPTURED BUM LOVE
I was one of the guys at uni whose standard dreams of a different girl every night were promptly shattered when I found myself settled down with a girlfriend, an eighth and a Curb Your Enthusiasm DVD within the first week. It could have been so much worse. She was the fittest girl I’d ever had the privilege of seeing naked, and she was more than happy to sit in, have sex, get stoned and skip lectures watching sitcoms. In fact, I’m missing her just recalling this.

One afternoon, our usual routine in full swing, idle telly-watching soon strayed into a bout of lazy sex. For some reason – I dunno, perhaps we swapped Curb for 24 that day – things started getting pretty dirty. We were doing it from behind, and having handed my first essay in that day, I thought I’d treat myself by sneaking it in her “special hole”. Now perhaps I’d been a bit overzealous in my entry, but before I knew it her body went completely limp and she slumped forward. As I’m sure you can imagine, I found this situation quite alarming. My heart was in my mouth and weird catholic-deviant-sex-killer guilt began bubbling in my throat. My state of panic intensified when I pulled my member out to find it soaked in blood, unleashing a torrent of red gloop from her bum as she just lay there totally motionless. It all got too much for me, and without thinking I dashed out into the corridor with my blood-caked willy in-hand in search of my friend who did medicine. Midway down the hall, I had second thoughts and opted to call up the NHS Direct helpine, worried I’d somehow ruptured her insides. Thankfully, while I was attempting to gabble some kind of explanation to the bemused guy on the phone, she came to. Despite her emaciated, bloody gloop-oozing state, she began to dazedly apologise and ask if I was OK.

Maybe we should have never broken up.

JOHN NORTH

HAMSTERDAM

I hate Amsterdam. I came to university a virgin and ended up getting into my first proper relationship midway through my first year. As he was the first guy I’d let have his wicked way with me, feelings were running strong. I was paranoid about him thinking I was this big virgin loser with barely a handjob to her name, so whatever he was up for I went with it. Lucky bastard. So we ended up trying pretty much everything. I just thought, why not? I’m an open-minded kind of girl.

A few months in, we decided to go on a romantic trip to Amsterdam and stay in a really nice apartment, the works. In my mind I had visions of candlelit dinners and canal-side walks by moonlight, but as soon as we got there it became apparent that he may as well have been going with the college rugby team. We headed to a sex show which was simultaneously the most awful and least erotic experience of my life. The next treat was a trip to a multi-level sex shop the size of a 24-hour Tesco where he bought Thai love beads “for me”. We got home and I begrudgingly gave them a whirl. They were OK but nothing worth writing home about. After we’d got past the formality of putting them inside me, he snatched them out of my hand, convinced they were meant to be amazing. Anyways, I shrugged, lubed him up and got to work. We started fucking with the beads wedged up his arse. Just before he came he yelled at me to pull them out. I yanked and the beads popped out. Regretfully, it wasn’t the only thing to emerge. Like a massive geyser, a huge stream of yellowy-brown, lube-laced shit come flying out, soaking our legs and the bed sheets.

It took us a few moments to realise what had happened. Then he suddenly snapped into consciousness and yanked the sheets off the bed in a shame-ridden sulk while I giggled in the hotel room, once my shins were rinsed of course. The whole incident served to make me realise I really wasn’t into the guy. I broke up with him while we were still over there.

JANE SMIDGE

RAINING BLOOD
I’d known this girl for a while. We weren’t great mates or anything, but we shared an interest in sitting around people’s houses getting wasted. One night after we’d been left alone together we ended up getting cosy and eventually started kissing. I didn’t even really fancy her, having been put off by her extremely hairy forearms (but as it turns out, strangely bald pubic regions. Go figure), but I was pretty bored and she had decent tits.

We were making out pretty intensely and everything seemed cool when all of sudden she bites down. Now we’re not talking a cheeky little nibble here either. Her tooth goes straight through my lip.

Reeling in shock, I pull back and splutter, “What the fuck are you doing?” To which she replies, “You love it!” Obviously assuming that because I was a complete wreck-head waster that automatically meant I was a total sadomasochist pervert too. I insisted quite firmly that I didn’t in fact love it in the slightest, to which she sighed and started going down on me. Everything was going fine until she raised her head up and again decided to sink her teeth into me. This time it was my solar plexus that was given her vampire treatment.

At the time I was pretty skinny, so this was no mean feat, but she managed to get a firm grip and something somewhere must have snapped. I looked down and couldn’t believe what I saw. I was gushing blood everywhere. A steady stream of blood poured all over both of us.

My reflex reaction was to let out a donkey kick, booting her right across the room. As she got to her feet there was a grim smile across her face. “Jesus,” I thought, “she loved it!” I’d unwittingly played into her trap. After that, there was no way I was risking further injury, so we opted to just get off our heads instead. Never again will I break with a tried and tested routine.

BEN JOHNSON

http://www.viceland.com/int/guide_student_uk08/htdocs/seasons_in_abyss.php?country=uk

a billie? hustler of the year…

I Get Money

Tiger Woods is on course to become the first billionaire athlete with the popular U.S. golfer proving a marketing dream, according to Forbes Magazine.

Woods, who won the U.S. Open last month despite a bad knee, is on track to exceed $1 billion in career earnings by 2010 after earning $115 million in 2007, said the American magazine which publishes an annual list of the world’s richest people.

Forbes in Wednesday’s edition said it would take 32-year-old Woods a bit longer to actually pocket that amount as taxes and management fees eat into his prize and endorsement money.

The calculation was based on Woods’ estimated earnings in the annual rich list dating back to 1996, when he turned pro, and also credited the world number one golfer with annualized investment returns of 8 percent.

“Based on those criteria, we project Tiger Woods should join our list of the world’s billionaires in 2011,” said the magazine. “It will be an unprecedented occurrence.”

The magazine said there are plenty of billionaires who have excelled at sports, like Switzerland’s richest man and champion sailor Ernesto Bertarelli, but no billionaires who have accumulated their fortune by playing sports.

Woods has been a sports marketing phenomenon.

lifted from AOL.com

Ten Richest Fucks of All Time (Nope no a Billy Gates).

http://www.neatorama.com/2008/07/09/10-richest-people-of-all-time-and-how-they-made-their-fortunes/

avo s’xizum eht nehw

Yeah, c’mon

When the music’s over
When the music’s over, yeah
When the music’s over
Turn out the lights
Turn out the lights
Turn out the lights, yeah

When the music’s over
When the music’s over
When the music’s over
Turn out the lights
Turn out the lights
Turn out the lights

For the music is your special friend
Dance on fire as it intends
Music is your only friend
Until the end
Until the end
Until the end

Cancel my subscription to the Resurrection
Send my credentials to the House of Detention
I got some friends inside

The face in the mirror won’t stop
The girl in the window won’t drop
A feast of friends
“Alive!” she cried
Waitin’ for me
Outside!

Before I sink
Into the big sleep
I want to hear
I want to hear
The scream of the butterfly

Come back, baby
Back into my arm
We’re gettin’ tired of hangin’ around
Waitin’ around with our heads to the ground

I hear a very gentle sound
Very near yet very far
Very soft, yeah, very clear
Come today, come today

What have they done to the earth?
What have they done to our fair sister?
Ravaged and plundered and ripped her and bit her
Stuck her with knives in the side of the dawn
And tied her with fences and dragged her down

I hear a very gentle sound
With your ear down to the ground
We want the world and we want it…
We want the world and we want it…
Now
Now?
Now!

Persian night, babe
See the light, babe
Save us!
Jesus!
Save us!

So when the music’s over
When the music’s over, yeah
When the music’s over
Turn out the lights
Turn out the lights
Turn out the lights

Well the music is your special friend
Dance on fire as it intends
Music is your only friend
Until the end
Until the end
Until the end!

Light a cigar baby. Goodnight.

dangerous games…

I used to be a fan of Roxxxy Reynolds because she got a little sass to her. Then i heard about this shit. Now i’m kind of scared. I know that i won’t be in the same position if the opportunity should present itself, but that’s some demeaning shit. And dangerous. I think that i would’ve killed her, but then again, his job is to make her look good. Business is business; remember cash is king.

www.worldstarhiphop.com

#1 stunna…….

This is my favorite white guy of all time. He is so gangster with that flashy shit. Plus the strut was the shit. I pay homage. this muthafucka is a legend.

july is officially sexdrugsmoney music month…

it’s something about the summer breeze that really makes music fly.  Here are some videos and joints from way back and today, from here and there to get your head bobbing or feet tapping. Enjoy.

and last but not least…

sexdrugsmoney woman of the year Brianna Frost

Take something old like a fresh shower; something used like Kanye’s Good Life, and something new like this booty, and what do you get but the perfect marriage of PG 13 internet porn.  YouTube and Google worthy, but still spicy enough that you have to minimize when your boss is near, Brianna is leading a wave of internet strip dancing. Now everybody is uploading their best 3 minutes of ass shaking fame. Her penchant for webcam teases is why she is the official model of one of my favorite sites www.worldstarhiphop.com where you can find more of the video like this above. For more on Brianna just hit her website at Brianna-Frost.com.

No thanks necessary.

don’t get the wrong impression….

I must admit that there are some things better than sex. There’s loads of shit better than drugs. And moneys the only thing you don’t think about when you have it but can’t keep your mind of when you don’t and that is a learned behavior if I ever saw one. The point that I want to make is that in this life we should fall back on the sex and the drugs and the money, but our motivations should be so much greater. Indeed what is sex, if its not to bring to people closer. But nothing can bring you closer than love. So if you’re still fucking then for fuck’s sake start loving. Transcend that sex partner shit if you can, but know if it doesn’t work- you still getting a good consolation prize. Yeah drugs are harder because of the psychological effect, but its still the same shit, aim for sobriety but if not LEARN what drugs and what limits there are. Get a comfort zone but know that shit is bad, so if you are using you should feel guilty and bad when you piff. And let’s be honest nobody wants money- what the fuck can you really do with the paper. To not be as literal we don’t really want the house, we just want the security. Plainer still- all we want is happiness. Truly we aim for Love Peace And Happiness and land in the sexdrugsmoney.

mission statement…

Sexdrugsmoney is about giving in to vice willingly forced and or reluctantly. There's no three vices as sexy and no three that people will give in to so often in life. Hence the motto "Life gets worse; this is how we roll with it", because no matter what good we do or bad we see, we turn to these three things to celebrate and to despair and this is what motivates us; we judge ourselves by these vices - how much, how often, etc, etc, etc. Think about someone with a crack rock addiction. Or a depressed mofo who complains or is anxious to life for lack of weed. How about a cheerleading sexpot who judges her worth by how many football players she can score with. We often put "money on our mind" as a motivation when the true motivation is something abstract but near- like peace. I think this peace of mind is the motivation behind most of the actions we do- this satisfaction of the ego. SexDrugsMoney- satisfying egos since 1998. I can't give you drugs thru the net. I certaintly don't have the motivations for cyber sex, and my PayPal account is empty. Don't worry, I'll keep something for your ego. And maybe your spirit too.
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