That Ashley Girl

Friday, July 30, 2004

Ask Ash

I was IMing with one of you lovely readers yesterday afternoon when he told me that he's heard from some other people who have IMed with me that I "don't ask any questions" and "it is a struggle to talk to you because you don't hold up your end of the asking-questions department."

Well, guess what? He's right. First of all, I am actually at work, so despite me begging for people to help me kill the time with IMs, I'm not giving chatting online my full attention.

Beyond that, I figure if someone has chosen to IM me, they should probably have a few topics they'd like to discuss with me. In other words, making the conversation flow is on you, not me.

I told that to the boy I was IMing with and he responded with a series of questions for me. "Who is your favorite Sesame Street character?" "What is more useful, a can opener or a toaster?" "Are you still in college?" There were several others too.

(Big Bird, toaster and yes, by the way)

This little exchange gave me a bright idea! (It's rare, so I get excited.) Because of the nature of the material on this blog and the fact that I am anonymous, I get asked a lot of questions via e-mail, comments and instant messages. So, I thought maybe I should actually solicit questions from everyone and then answer them all here.

If I get enough interest, we could make this a weekly or monthly thing -- "Ask Ash."

So that's your assignment from now until Sunday night. Think up some interesting questions for me and send them in, either through the comments, via e-mail or, if you see me online during the weekend (which is doubtful), via IM.

As usual, no subject is off-limits, although I can't promise that I'll answer everything. For instance, while I may answer brilliant inquiries like "What size are your tits?", I'm thinking "What is your address and zip code?" is one that I'd probably pass on.

Sex questions, personal questions, advice questions, random questions, stupid questions, meaningless questions, "what's your favorite _____?" questions -- whatever, it's all good. I'll spill the beans on anything, but you've gotta come up with some good ones for me.

Thursday, July 29, 2004

My Not So Little Brother (Part Two)

Remember how I told you a couple weeks ago that I came home from work early one day and my brother had a girl up in his room? Well, I came home on Tuesday and, while there thankfully were no girls in the house doing nasty things with my brother, he did bring the subject up to me.

He basically said he wants to have this Kelly girl over again when my parents aren't home, and that if I didn't rat him out, he'd "let me have guys over."

I laughed in his face. And not a small chuckle, I'm talking a big, roaring, mental patient laugh.

As I tried to explain to him, I don't give a shit if he has a girl over, and I'm not going to be a snitch to my parents. As I also tried to explain to him, I don't need him to keep secrets for me at this point.

If my parents haven't figured out by now that I'm not their innocent little girl, that's too bad. I don't keep the fact that I like boys from them, I don't keep the fact that I date boys from them, and I'm certainly not going to have my brother keep secrets about boys coming over to the house from them.

Hell, I've had sex with boys in my parents' house, while my parents were there. And my brother thought he was being sneaky ... ha! That's what bedroom doors and basements are for, right? I've also kissed boys and touched boys and sat on boys' laps around my parents. Big deal.

If you're 21 years old and living three-fourths of the year away from home on a college campus, and you have to play make-believe with your parents about your sexuality, you've got some serious issues (or your parents do).

I spent the entire school year doing whatever and whoever I wanted. If I wanted some late-night sex, I had it. If I wanted to have a sleepover with a boy in his room, I did it. If I wanted to have a quick afternoon fuck between classes, I had it.

I told my brother he's on his own. I'm not going to be squealing to anyone about anything he does, as long as he doesn't bother me, but that's as far as I go covering up for him and his orgasms.

On a somewhat related note, A.J. picked me up from work yesterday and I went over to his place for dinner. We actually ate with his parents, which was kind of weird, but they're pretty nice people and I am, of course, extraordinarily charming. I even helped his mom do the dishes after!

Anyway, after we ate dinner, we went upstairs to his room to "watch some TV." After about five minutes of flipping channels, we just decided having sex would be more fun. So we did.

His parents were (presumably) downstairs or outside or in their room or wherever it is parents like to hang out, and his bedroom door closes. Plus, we left the TV on to mask the moaning and groaning and panting and slapping.

That's the beauty of being 21 years old, I guess. Not only do I not feel the need to pretend like I'm not interested in boys, I actually go to their house and fuck them while their parents are home!

I was definitely a full-service girlfriend yesterday. I ate dinner with the parents, made lovely small-talk with them the whole time, helped clean up, helped do the dishes, and then entertained their son after dinner.

It was good, too. And dinner wasn't bad either.

Then, just for good measure, I gave him a blow job right before I left. I figured I had given such an outstanding performance all night that it deserved some sort of encore.

The only request I had for A.J. was that he didn't cum in my mouth or on my face, because I didn't think I could deal with talking to his mother on the way out of the house with remnants of her son's sperm in plain view.

Wednesday, July 28, 2004

Work Still Sucks, But I Got Some IMs

I complained about my work situation yesterday, explaining how crappy my job is and how bored I am sitting at a desk, indoors, for most of the day. I also said that if any of you were bored and on your computers during the day, you should instant message me and we could kill some time together.

Well, a whole bunch of you did. Some of you, like the lovely Ms. Swanmonkey, were really friendly and nice to chat with, while others were ... well, sort of creepy.

For instance, I got an IM yesterday from some boy who didn't identify himself. Here's our little exchange (I changed his screen name slightly, just so you can't harass him ... although I'm not sure why I care if you harass him):

Macktwinky: what's up dork
Thatashleygirl04: dork?!
Thatashleygirl04: :-)
Thatashleygirl04: who's this?
Macktwinky: I am an admirer
Thatashleygirl04: ok ...
Macktwinky: I just started reading your blog
Thatashleygirl04: cool
Macktwinky: do you live in California?
Thatashleygirl04: I could tell you, but I'd have to kill you.
Macktwinky: so mysterious
Macktwinky: I do not live in California
Thatashleygirl04: ok...
Macktwinky: may I make a suggestion?
Thatashleygirl04: sure
Macktwinky: you should post a pic of yourself on your blog from the neck down
Thatashleygirl04: why?
Macktwinky: you could remain anonymous, but then skeptics like me would believe you are as hot as you say
Thatashleygirl04: I don't really care what people believe. Believe whatever you want to.
Thatashleygirl04: How do you know the picture would be of me anyway?
Macktwinky: good point
Macktwinky: you are smarter than me
Macktwinky: but there are ways to identify your self
Thatashleygirl04: huh?
Macktwinky: and remain anonymous
Macktwinky: pardoxically
Macktwinky: paradoxically
Thatashleygirl04: But why do I need to identify myself?
Macktwinky: I guess your right
Macktwinky: you're
Macktwinky: what are you wearing?
Thatashleygirl04: lol
Macktwinky: I really want to know
Thatashleygirl04: sorry
Macktwinky: I am wearing boxers and a t-shirt
Thatashleygirl04: lol
Macktwinky: do you decide what to wear when you wake up or the night before?
Thatashleygirl04: when i wake up
Macktwinky: I figured
Macktwinky: before or after you shower?
Thatashleygirl04: after
Macktwinky: so you stand around naked sometimes figuring out what to wear?
Thatashleygirl04: lol
Macktwinky: that's hot

That is one lame-ass attempt at cyber-sex, especially after I explicitly warned yesterday that "I won't cyber."

I noticed something really weird while talking to that lovely, horny boy. For some reason it is fun and comfortable for me to tell you guys all sorts of interesting stuff about my life on this blog, without holding anything back.

But when it comes to telling the same exact sort of stuff to one creepy, solitary stranger via instant message, it just feels weird to me.

I mean, I have no problem telling you what I'm wearing -- panties and a tank-top, thanks for asking! Let's see, I'll even find you a picture ...

Basically, that outfit, but with white bottoms instead of blue bottoms.

And I'd have no problem telling you when I pick out my clothes, whether I walk around naked after I shower (of course, but only at school!), or basically anything else you wanted to know about how I get dressed in the morning.

For whatever reason though, when some random boy who is IMing me asks me the same questions, it's just totally creepy.

Okay, enough about me and my stupid IMs. If you're bored again tomorrow and you see me online, feel free to say hello. Just try not to creep me out too much.

Tuesday, July 27, 2004

Work Sucks

When I applied for my summer job, it sounded really cool. Basically, I do a little lifeguarding (tanning), I do a little concession running (eating) and I do a little phone answering (reading).

Lately though, I've been mostly answering the phones, running dumb errands and just basically doing busy work. I wouldn't mind, except all of it takes place indoors.

Frankly, there's no way I would have signed up for this gig if I knew I wasn't going to be outdoors 90% of the time. In fact, my entire reason for taking the job was that I figured I was going to be hanging around at beaches all summer anyway, so I might as well get paid for it.

How can I show off my increasingly-impressive body in my new, skimpy bikinis if I'm stuck behind a desk all day? And how can I flirt with all the hot boys in their swim trunks if they're frolicking in the pool and I'm answering phones? It sucks.

I have a phone at the desk I sit at, which is usually more than enough to keep me from being bored, but I've been told I'm not allowed to make personal phone calls. Ugh.

I did manage to download AOL Instant Messenger onto the computer without anyone noticing, but I realized pretty quickly that, aside from me being at my stupid job, none of my friends are sitting around on the computer all day because they're usually at a beach!

So I'm bored, I'm indoors, and I can't even find anyone to kill time talking to. To make matters worse, my powers of seduction on my cute, hairy-chested boss, Jamie, have been stifled as well. You see, when you're in the office/indoors portion of the workplace, you have to wear actual clothes, instead of bathing suits.

When I was working outside, lifeguarding or whatever, I used to really doll myself up. I'd wear my favorite bikinis and show off my considerable assets in the best ways I know how. And, not coincidentally, Jamie would chat with me constantly.

Now that I'm inside, wearing cut-off shorts and a t-shirt over my suit, he barely says anything to me. I mean, we chat at least once a day, but there are far too many other cute girls there for him to flirt with, and most of them don't have to cover up and answer phones all day!

I think phones and clothes are my kryptonite.

Oh, and I get the dumbest phone calls too. The other day someone called and asked, "Is it busy there today?"

I said, "No, not really."

That wasn't specific enough for the caller. "Well, how many people?"

"I dunno, maybe 50," I said.

"Well, is it 50 or is it more?"

Now, you have to realize that I'm indoors and can't see outside onto the beach area. Plus, even if I could, it's a big beach and there are people all over the place. There are people on the sand, in the water, at the concession area, etc.

"Maybe a little more, it's tough to say for sure," I said, getting ready to end the call.

"Well, do you think it will be less busy in an hour?"

This call took place in the early afternoon, which is our least busy time. So I told him, "No, it usually picks up pretty soon."

So what did the guy say to that? "Well shit, forget it then. Damnit!"

And that was it. He hung up. And for that I am forced to be inside all day, sitting at a desk, wearing far too much clothing, and not being flirted with by who knows how many cute boys.

If you're sitting at your computer during the day and you see me online, feel free to IM me. I assure you I'm not doing anything even remotely important. I'm thatashleygirl04 on AIM ... and no, I won't cyber.

Monday, July 26, 2004

Breaking the Code

As a young, sweet, innocent girl who often finds herself hanging around with a whole bunch of crude boys, one of my favorite things to do is crack one of their "codes."

What do I mean? Well, a boys-only code can be anything from a weird look they give each other every time a certain person or subject is brought up in the conversation, to a phrase like "butterface" that they think they can get by with saying because no girl in the vicinity knows the true meaning.

Well, I busted a bunch of boys on Saturday night. They were talking about a girl we all know, one who was supposed to be at the party but had something come up at the last minute. So I say something like, "I wish she could have been here, she's cool."

And one of the boys goes, "Yeah, me too," which induces a bunch of goofy chuckles from a couple of the other boys. The chuckles die down and then, after a few seconds of silence, one of the boys says, very subtlety, "D.S.L.'s."

Here's the problem with hanging out with me if you're a group of boys ... I know what fucking D.S.L.'s are. Here, I'll show you a picture of them ...

Anyway, I chose to play it cool and act like one of the boys, so I just calmly responded, "Yeah, she does have great lips."

Turns out, I would have gotten fewer weird looks if I had said, "Yeah, I murdered my family this morning."

Boys think they're so slick, with their special language for talking about girls' body parts. Well, they're not. I know what fucking Dick Sucking Lips are. I have a pair of my own!

In other news ...

I saw over the weekend that Nick Carter and Paris Hilton broke up. What a shocker. I thought this one quote from the story was particularly humorous ...

It was Hilton who ended the romantic relationship, said her publicist, Gina Hoffman.

"She's concentrating on her work," Hoffman told the AP.

Concentrating on her "work" I don't buy for a moment. Concentrating on a "job" on the other hand, seems entirely plausible.

Just look at that picture of Paris and Nick. They are such a cute, incredibly dumb couple. I think Nick Carter is very fuckable (for some reason I picture him with a nice-sized cock and a very well-groomed pubic area), but if there is anyone in the world who shouldn't be wearing Fila sweatsuits, it's probably Nick Carter.

By the way, I saw the Paris Hilton sex-tape and I thought she looked pretty good, but is definitely a "cold fish" in bed. She basically just sat there (or laid there) completely motionless, completely emotionless, while the boy just pounded away at her. What fun is that?

I will say that the boys I've talked to who have seen it were extremely impressed with her oral ("job") skills. I found it interesting that the "task" was "completed" (see, I have code words too!) on her chest, as opposed to in her mouth or on her face, but of course we've discussed that topic here already.

I told the boys I know who have seen the video that I was really impressed by the boy (I forget his name) who Paris was with, but they didn't really want to discuss that. Boys who won't talk about big cocks are no fun.

While one Hollywood romance has ended, another is still going strong ...

I saw this story over the weekend too:

Teen queen Lindsay Lohan and her reported beau, That 70’s Show's Wilmer Valderrama, have reportedly admitted to a romance.

Now that she has turned 18 and it is legal, Freaky Friday star Lindsay Lohan and her boyfriend Valderrama have reportedly gone public with their romantic relationship. It has been rumored that the two were dating since May. Valderrama and Lohan both insisted they were "just friends," because Lohan was only 17 and Valderrama is 24. Now that it is legal for them to date, Valderrama has been telling everyone that she is his girlfriend.

First of all, how funny is it that a 24-year-old boy can be fucking a 17-year-old and just say "we're just friends" until she's 18, when he can then "confess" what they've been up to. I mean, just because she's now 18 doesn't make him fucking her when she was 17 any more legal, does it? Not that I have a problem with a 17-year-old fucking a 24-year-old (don't knock it 'til you've tried it), I'm just saying.

Anyway, this means that Wilmer Valderrama, who plays a goofy foreign exchange student on a mildly successful sitcom, has now fucked both Mandy Moore and Lindsay Lohan. To which I say, what does this boy have, a huge cock or great drugs? Probably both, huh?

Justin Timberlake getting Britney Spears and Cameron Diaz (among others) is understandable, because Justin Timberlake is fucking hot, not to mention hugely famous and successful. But some random TV show co-star getting two of the hottest young singer/actress hybrid girls around? It boggles the mind.

Just imagine that the young man pictured above has now had his cock inside of both these girls ...

Now think about where your penis has been over the last couple years. Life isn't fair, is it?