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Good Day – I won’t speculate, because I know I’m late… I’m two days late because I’m ahead of everyone. But I figure, I will be two weeks late if I wait until next Wednesday. And won’t next Wednesday suffer because I didn’t have a anything in the middle to even the motherfucker out? I mean honestly, I should just change this to “whinings of whatever day I choose not to be an asshole” and call it a day.

I left my magical book at my grandmas house. I hope it heals her soul. I hope she’s sniffing the playa dust off it as we speak.

Update: I got it back, and its currently having tea on my fire escape in NY (living the life).

12 Reasons Plastic is not Rope

  1. Rope condoms, not yet a thing.
  2. Recycling rope just means using it for something else
  3. There is sometimes plastic in rope
  4. Two different words
  5. Pope or Rastic
  6. They didn’t have plastic in the wild west
  7. They don’t use rope to wrap tuna sandwiches
  8. Sometimes I like to feel things
  9. If I was climbing off a mountain, I would probably put the bottle cap back on
  10. Twelve was too many things
  11. I am a pony
  12. RopePlastic Orgasmic Fantastic Gel

I am surrounded by dicks… but only metaphorically, so it’s kind of a bummer.

Previously on X:HBHBBM <— Click to read PART 1

Hila the Killa gets a broken bike, she goes to fix it, finds a sexy bike master in the middle of a dust storm, he seduces her, he fixes her bike, she writes him a poem that she intends on mailing to him in a postcard. But the day she writes it…

Xaque: Hunky Bicycle Heart Breaker Bruise Maker (X:HBHBBM)*

Part 2

It’s a new day and I’ve written Zack(h) his poem, which was originally supposed to be a rap song, but I really didn’t have enough material. I figured I’d keep working on it and eventually bring a band to his camp, or maybe just send a postcard. I was getting nervous. I couldn’t tell if he felt the same tingling sensations I was feeling, but I was determined to put them there. This card would do the trick. I imagined him blowing a load at first read.

So I went off into the desert, poem in book, and love in my loins. Trubdr, Oren and I went off to find Day Burner all the way at the edge of the world. We drank whisky, sang songs and decided to go exploring. We all had bikes (thanks to my imaginary lover) and we were cruising. Within 10 minutes, Day Burner and I found ourselves on a trajectory that apparently Trubdr and Oren were not. And here’s the thing at burning man — you never see who you want to see, and you’re never staying together as a group. Just FORGET ABOUT IT. Once we looked back it was over, they were gone. We waited like 6 degrees on the sun, and peaced the fuck out of there.

So now it’s Day Burner and I, riding along the dusty floors, heading to everywhere and nowhere. I would say naked-old-man-ass count is at 7 by this point. It was a beautiful day.

It happened in a flash, caught me off guard, turned my head around and Zack(h) is riding past me like a Trojan horse, only he’s not invading my vagina so I knew I needed to do something. I yelled

“Hey! Stop! Stop right there!”

He turns around, he seems stressed, like he was heading somewhere important. I didn’t care.

“I have a poem for you”

He stops, his nameless and faceless friend stops too. I take out the book and recite my sexy seduction poem, licking my lips every so often so he knows I can moisten up if needed (it is the desert after all). He laughs. I ask him

“How do you spell your name? Is it an H? is it a K?”

“It’s actually an X” He laughs at his own bad joke. He stares into my eyes.

“I have to go” and he’s gone.

Oh heavens! oh sweet sweet nectar of the sexy gods, I did it. I fucking did it. He’s in, He’s SO IN. I can feel the delusion sink in, but I don’t care. Delusion is part of the game, and I am vagina deep into this mother fucker.

So off into my fantasy world I ride, glowing with anticipation. What do I do now? I have to send this postcard. I have to send the postcard and write my address on it with a picture of my tent and a sign that gives really clear instructions on how I want him to be found in said tent. I am not a psychopathic creeper. I am not.

I wrote and sent the postcard. My heart sinks. I can’t go back to that bike camp, I need a sign. I need a sign. I need a GODDAMN SIGN.

…To be continued…

How To Stay Hydrated in the Desert

  1. Be nice
  2. Swallow water
  3. Coconuts (the magical kind)

Since this weeks Whinings are coming at you from Friday, I want to make this moment about why we really love Friday’s to begin with. FRIDAY THOUGHTS <— click that. It’ll be sure to make your heart sing.

Also I’d like to mention that I don’t want a wedding. I don’t want a wedding I don’t want a ring and I don’t want anything conventional that has to do with unionizing a pair of people into a future of dictated love and parthership. NO SIR. What I want is to throw a party, like a big party, titled:

“Come celebrate the love of Hila and (Insert future love of life here), it is in this moment in time that we’ve decided we want to spend forever with each other and be sad when the other dies inevitably, all this is subject to change, and we might break up which is why we aren’t signing anything… but enjoy the babka!”

It’s a little long, but so is my future husbands penis (or future wifes strap on penis)… and I’m not complaining. Then the guests will all wear their choice of 1. A wedding dress (not gender specific, men you can wear this too) or 2. A tuxedo (note about the gender applies here too). My future love pillow and I will be wearing matching leopard swimsuits. It’s gonna be baller.


Tinder Burner #1 – Cozy Bear

tinderburnOREN copy

What makes you so cozy? what makes you a bear? I think you’re a human… but I’ve always wanted to sleep with a bear so I’m glad you identify this way. Can we please frolic around the playa and climb spinning things? You look like a guy who likes to sit down while tripping shrooms. Your beard is dusty, but thats cool because my vagina is too. Everything is dusty. Lets get into some shenanigans you sexy mother fucker.

WELL THATS IT — The Wednesday (on friday) Whinings. I promise I’ll work on my time management. Oh… and Happy Jew year. We got that Newness with the Jewness.

Until next time or until the herring goes bad.