"I Fuck Sluts" - a beautiful poem by Bo Burnham

"Sluts, sluts, I fuck sluts.
Sluts get fucked when I fuck sluts.
No if and’s, and or but’s. I fuck sluts.
I fuck sluts. Nice girls are nice but no good for nut-suckin,
You’ll need a serene night to green-light a butt fucking,
But that’ll be easy with sleazy old slut fucking.
Boo to the nice girls! Praise be to slut fucking.
I have a list.
A list?
Yes a list of all the sluts I’ve missed.
I’ve never fucked or sucked these sluts and thus my nuts are fucking pissed.
So when I fuck the lucky slut my nut removes her from the list.
Another dumb cum-bucket struck from my nut sucking,
Suck it slut, slut-fucking bucket-list.
Sluts can be white, black, brown, pink, or almond.
They can be skinny with big tits or skinny with small ones.
Sluts can be perky, preppy or posh with their brains and their clothes all shrunk from the wash.
But other girls are pretty and funny and smart.
And they lift all your thoughts from your dick to your heart.
They can talk about science, music, or art.
They can put you together or they can pull you apart.
But don’t trust these women, don’t, don’t you dare.
They’ll force you to trust them and love them and care.
And then they’ll be gone and then you’ll be aware of that hole in your heart
That that dumb slut left there.”

mariebalagot

mariebalagot:

reblogging again

Kids, let me tell you the story of how I killed a TV show.

I don’t know what else to say. That ending was garbage. 9 fucking years. I resonated with Ted Mosby more than any other fictional character, ever. My friends would remind me every day how I’m basically Ted Mosby. It felt like everything he’s said, every sappy monologue he gave on love, every woman he was with, it all came right out of my head. It’s hard to explain. But I loved it. It always gave me hope. Through the worst shit I’ve ever been through. 

And in the end, he let go of the one. The woman he wasted years harping over, spewing that she was the “one.” And then he let her go. It was his defining moment. And it struck me. And it made me realize that it’s possible. I was okay with that. I was okay with it ending right there. He met the woman of his dreams, she was perfect for him. The show-runners really did a good job making you love her. And then they kill her? They fucking KILLED her. And what does Ted do after he tells his kids the story of How He Met His Mother? He calls Robin. The woman he was supposed to let go, the woman who I thought caused him to grow up, and look at love in a totally different way. It ruined everything. Every single part of the last 9 years was soiled, because for all that Ted changed, it meant nothing. He disregarded his perfect, albeit dead wife, and goes back on everything he stood for. Way to sap all hope from me. Way to ruin what could have been a beautiful story.