March’s Depraved Girl of the Month

Posted by Heather in March's Depraved Girl of the Month

Miss March

Meet Miss March, Hellin Heels, who might be the nastiest Depraved Girl of the Month yet!

NAME: Hellin Heels

AGE: 26

AREA OF SLUTSPERTISE: “The Scandalous Slut”

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU GOT LAID?: “I fucked the farmers son on the back of his tractor. Made him keep the suspenders on this was last week. The scandalous, yet classy, slut sometimes has to disembark in to foreign territories in pursuit of pleasure. The farmers son was well worth the trip, I didn’t even flinch when I pulled the hay out of my ass. I was still in a cock coma.”

DEPRAVED RULE YOU LIVE BY: “Rule #3: Develop A Magic Pussy Duh!!!!!! Mine is platinum coated, just see my blog post, How to make your pussy scandal-rific!”

THE MOST DEPRAVED THING YOU’VE EVER DONE TO GET A GUY: “Sometimes putting on your most desirable skivvies and showing them what you have at all costs is key to getting a man to fuck you, unless he’s gay and therefore, please read: Shoot the Piano Player!”

THE MOST DEPRAVED THING YOU’VE EVER DONE TO GET REVENGE ON A GUY: “I was dating this guy who I really liked and he dumped me for a blonde bimbo. So I decided to get my revenge on him by getting her to fall for me. It worked. She dumped him soon after and told me wanted to do the whole ‘try bi thing.’ I laughed and told her, I’m straight, dear.”

You can read more about Hellin on her blog, The Hollywood Scandal.

Do you think you’re depraved enough to be crowned Depraved Girl of the Month? Send me an e-mail at [email protected] along with a hot pic of yourself and your answers to the above questions and your dirty ass may just be featured on my blog!

Pinch Me

Posted by Heather in ass, boobs, grab, St. Patrick's Day

Pinch Me

Ladies, as you prepare for a depraved evening of drinking, slutting and screwing for St. Patrick’s Day 2010, let me give you one piece of advice:

DON’T WEAR GREEN.

Today is the one day that by actually doing nothing, you’ll attract more guys. Forget grabbing HIS ass, they’ll be lining up to pinch YOU.

Hopefully on your nipples.

Happy hunting!

Forget About Vajazzling Your Va-Jay-Jay, It’s All About Coloring Your Coochie

Posted by Heather in vagina dye, vagjazzling

Jennifer Love Hewitt introduced us to “vajazzling” but now the good people of My New Pink Button are taking it a step further, offering vagina dye to “restore the pink” back to fading hoo-hahs.

The product bills itself as “a temporary dye to restore the youthful pink color back to your labia.”

In other words, if you’re rocking roast beef curtains, you can turn your beat meat back into pretty pink pussy lips.

Although the colors range from Marilyn (“Good for beginners who want to make a slight change fresh color change in their appearance or those who are very fair skinned”) to Audry, the darkest of the dyes, My New Pink Button is pretty much for white chicks only. As one reviewer pointed out, “I do not match any of the youthful/pinkish tones on the packages of any of the dyes. Is there something wrong with me? No, I’m just not white!”

But when contacted about the omission of darker tones, the Button pushers simply replied “you shouldn’t take this so seriously.”

Because a product that may cause a burning sensation in your bush is nothing “serious!”

"The Talk"

Posted by Heather in The Talk

After about a month and a half of dating, I finally decided it was time to have “the talk” with my now-boyfriend.  I told him we needed to have a conversation and he gave me that look, you know, like I was about to take him to the vet to be neutered.

“I can’t hold it in any longer,” I told him.

“I think it’s time we farted in front of each other.”

“Like, right now?” he asked.  ”Yes, be a gentleman and do it first,” I said.

“But I don’t have any gas.”

“Try.”

So he stood in front of me, ass out, cheeks spread, and pushed and pushed and pushed.  His face started turning red, but no fart.  Then suddenly, mid-push, he got this mortified look on his face and turned to run into the bathroom: he shit his pants.

I laughed so hard, I farted.

Rule #14: Assume He’s Bi Until Proven Otherwise

Posted by Heather in bisexual, Gay, Rule #14: Assume He's Bi Until Proven Otherwise

If you live in a big city like me, oftentimes you’ll find yourself at a bar flirting with a guy who’s got two full sleeves of tatts but knows all the words to Lady GaGa’s latest single.  You’re about to label him a queer when he leans over and bites you on your neck, turning your knickers into panty pudding.

So you exchange numbers and plan to meet up for a drink at a very straight bar the next week.  You spend way too much time and money picking out your look for the night — you even vajazzle your vagina, hoping he’ll be bedazzled enough to stick his peen in it.

But when you get there, he’s brought someone else with him: His boyfriend.

Turns out you’re on a gay date.  All that time and money you wasted when you could have just stayed home in your sweats and seen more action from your Jimmy Jane vibe.

That’s why you’ve always got to assume they’re bi until you get concrete proof that goes one way or the other (and no, a dvd collection that includes Mean Girls is not “proof!”)

You can check his browser history (if Gaytube.com comes up, he’s probably not straight) and look through all his Facebook friends but the only way to really know for sure is to ask him.  Of course, he could also be lying to you (and yourself) but at least you’ll get laid while he figures it out!

February’s Depraved Girl of the Month

Posted by Heather in Depraved Girl of the Month

February's Depraved Girl of the Month

Meet Miss February, Special K. She’s so depraved that we had to keep her identity a secret to prevent her various boy toys getting wise to her whorish ways!

NAME: Special K

AGE: 31

AREA OF SLUTSPERTISE: Cock Tease

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU HAD SEX?: January 21st

DEPRAVED RULE YOU LIVE BY: When a man wants you he wants you, and he will do anything to get you.

THE MOST DEPRAVED THING YOU’VE EVER DONE TO GET A GUY: I had recently been dumped (shocking I know) by my longtime boyfriend, and I was having trouble getting back my mojo. A good friend of mine had met a fellow art student and convinced him to model nude for a private studio session. Being the serious artists that we were, we had plenty of box wine, music, and a video camera you know to keep things professional, as we documented a night of debauchery. Well the young model came to reveal one of this biggest dicks I ever seen to this day. Not one to shy away from a challenge I began to feel like my old slutbucket self and started flirting with him after polishing off half a box of wine. Halfway through the shoot we decided to paint him for artistic purposes of course. Fast forward to the end of the shoot model does a superb job and heads to the bathroom to shower. My inner slut gave me the confidence to walk into the bathroom uninvited while he showered. I could taste the dick as I pushed back the shower curtain and in my most seductive voice I asked if he needed any help getting clean. I hopped in the shower with him and went for the D, it was exhilarating to have a dick that big in my hands. That orgasm I had in the shower was just the trick I needed to get back being a true slut. An hour later I emerged from the shower with paint in my hair and a new level of slut appeared.

THE MOST DEPRAVED THING YOU’VE EVER DONE TO GET REVENGE ON A GUY: I had found out my boyfriend had cheated on me after I had stood through his Erectile dysfunction problems. To say I was pissed was an understatement. With the help of a good friend I went back to his apartment to retrieve my belongings or so I told him to gain access. He decided it would be better if he wasn’t there…I started ransacking the apartment….my girlfriend being a law student advised me not to damage personal property as she did not have enough for bail. With rage in my eyes I came across his condom stash, then I had the bright idea…I found a safety pin and popped several little holes in all the condoms then I placed them back neatly were they belonged and hoped they did their trick. Then I went to his laptop hacked into his email account and sent a letter to his entire address book family, friends, co-workers, and professor explaining in detail his erectile dysfunction problem, the subject line read things you should know about a limp dick. Several years later we are still good friends and we occasionally have a good laugh.

Sounds like Special K has already mastered Rule #13: There’s More Than One Way to Fuck a Man!

Rule #13: There’s More Than One Way To Fuck A Man

Posted by Heather in car, cat, Facebook, Rule #13: There's More Than One Way To Fuck A Man


Although there are all kinds of ways to screw a guy in bed, the fucking I’m talking about has to do with his head.

That’s right, girls. I’m talking revenge.

Let’s say you’ve been dating this guy who is so your T (full sleeve of tatts, vintage car) for about two months. You’ve been inseperable since the night you dragged him back to your place after a bingeing on tequila at the Snakepit. It’s getting serious enough to finally have “the talk” — you know, where you agree that it’s ok to fart in front of each other. Suddenly, he stops calling, won’t return texts/tweets/e-mails. After a little investigation you find out HE’S HAD A GIRLFRIEND THE ENTIRE TIME! She just happened to be out of town when you two hooked up. And that fucker even told you he loved you! (Ok, it was after half a bottle of Jack and a hummer, but still!)

So, do you sit around crying to your girlfriends while watching the entire box set of Sex and the City on a loop? Or do you make HIM cry?

Obviously, I vote for the latter.

Fuck his car:

A D-bag loves nothing more than his car, so hit him in his figurative balls. You could go the Carrie Underwood route and mess with the outside of the car, or you could fuck up the inside. Some say it’s a myth, but a friend of mine swears (from experience) that pouring sugar in a gas tank will fuck up the engine. Powdered sugar, sand and bleach with also mess that shit up. Now I’m not condoning this, as it IS illegal, so if you go this route, make sure you’re ready for the consequences (i.e. take a sweater, jail is cold.)

Fuck his Facebook:


Wait until you know he’ll be out at some loud club for the night and then have a really, really great friend leave this post on his wall. Then wait for the comments from his girlfriend and other hos to roll in.

Fuck his home:

The idiot is too stupid to remember that he told you where he keeps the hide-a-key. Use it to get in and then kidnap his cat like my friend L once did (she still has that pussy) or if you’re really committed, you’ll move (or remove) one item every week until he thinks he’s going crazy.

Have you got a tale of depraved revenge? I’d love to hear it — post it in the comments below!

Rule #8: The Best Way To Get Over a Guy Is To Get Under Another One

Posted by Heather in Rules

I’m sure most people will tell you that “time” is the only thing that helps heal a broken heart, but fuck that.

You can Carrie Underwood his car, you can gain five pounds (all from wine) sitting around watching the entire box set of Sex and the City, you can steal his cat, you can pop Xannies like they were candy, you can eat nothing but Pinkberry for a whole month, but nothing helps you get over a guy as much as getting underneath another one does.

After one particular soul-crushing break-up, I tried all of the above — in one night. I ended up spending the wee hours of the morning puking up a pinkish spew of red wine, plain fro-yo and Xanax chunks while trying to keep his pussy from licking up my puke. (Don’t worry, I returned the cat before he even realized it was gone.)

And to make things even worse, everytime this disgusting pink and white sprinkled concotion made its way into the toilet, all I could think about were the dozen strawberry Sprinkles cupcakes he bought me for my birthday (it was the only damn thing he ever gave me), so I’m trapped in this loop of puking, sobbing and kitty-swatting on my bathroom floor.

The next night, I was all set to unhinge, binge, purge and repeat when my good friend Melissa came over and forced me into a pair of skinny jeans. Luckily, I had been on the break-up diet for about a week, so they actually fit without my flesh cupcaking over the side and she dragged my sorry ass to The Village Idiot.

That’s when I met the Irish opera singer. He was hot, sexy and best of all, he had an accent that reminded me of my favorite Colin Farrell movie … what’s it called? The one where he talks all nasty? Oh, yeah, his sex tape.

Despite the fact that I SO was not in the mood for another man’s dick, my friend suggested that we all go back to my place for another drink after the bar closed — and then she drove off the minute me and Lucky Charms got out of the car.

I guess the one good thing about hooking up with Euros is they don’t care if you’re waxed/shaved/vagazzaled/coherent. I had had just the right combination of Xanax and Vodka tonics at this point, so after a little bit of wrestling on my couch, we got down to doing the dirty. I can’t say it was the best sex I’ve ever had in my life (he had this annoying habit of talking dirty in ebonics) but it did the trick.

The next day, I was no longer obsessing about my ex. Since the opera singer hadn’t returned my text in, like, 5 hours, I started obsessing about him instead. I believe in psychology this is called “transferrence.”

Sure, after another few months of stalking dating him, he pretty much pulled down his pants and took a dump right on top of my heart. But this time, instead of reaching for the baseball bat and a handful of pills, I pulled on my skinny jeans and headed out to the VI to find another peen to help me mend my broken heart.

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