Sugar Daddies and Shit

Fuck this, I’m signing up for sugar

Was a sentence that came out of my mouth a few days ago. There are a few reasons why.

Firstly, I am now just getting used to the fact that I no longer work full-time, I am a student on an uber-student budget, and  I no longer have a rich boyfriend (my choice, I know). I got invited to a bachelorette party weekend in Vegas that I was super stoked to go on. That is until I looked at my bank account.    Fuck.

Just as this reality was sinking in, I glance at the T.V. to find my roommate watching one of those quality TLC shows… you know the ones titled “I eat paper towels out of my cat’s butt” or whatever. Anyway, on the show is this 400 pound chick talking about how she got flown around the world by rich dudes and travelled in complete luxury etc etc blah blah. So, naturally I got all




If this bitch can do it, I can DEFINITELY do it.

Fuck this (my current situation),  fuck you (bank account)… fuck you (imaginary nay sayers)… fuck all ya’ll (larger group of imaginary nay sayers). I’m signing up for some sugar daddy website.

Took a few tries to find a good one. A lot of them make you pay… which makes me wonder how can a website built exclusively around having other people pay for your shit expect you to pay for your shit? The absurdity.

The websites are as disgusting as you imagine. Old dudes, perverts, poor dudes pretending to be rich (I can see your bedroom in the background of this mirror selfie, Poory McPoorston. Move along.), and like 5 Colonel sanders look-a-likes. The works. I am sure nothing will come of it. And I’m not a complete idiot so meeting one of these fools will likely never materialize. But at heart, I am an opportunist…

Maybe, JUST maybe in February I’ll be on a beach in Bali … then I’ll snap chat you mawfakas and be all like:


(and yes I AM channelling my inner independent black woman today. Thank you for noticing)