Third Party Babe Rules, Page 2

  “You do!”

  “I don’t care what people think, I like that Newt Gingrich.”

  “I think you have a Speaker of the House fetish.”

  “Maybe I do. But you have to admit I like a diverse lot of Speakers of the House.”

  “That is surely true.”

  “We totally got to get together someday soon and have lots of girl time together.”

  “Indeed.”

  Chapter Fifteen:

  I fucking hate alcohol. Why? Well it ruined my life. Before you think I’m being melodramatic, please listen to my story.

  Ten years ago, my entire immediate family was driving up to visit me and a drunk driver smashed into the vehicle, killing my brother, mother, and father. It was one of those situations where of course the drunk driver walked away without a scratch. He got only 9 years from some dumb judge, so he just got released from jail. I fucking hate drunk drivers.

  Drunk drivers should be shot for the first offense. I am opposed to the death penalty for most crimes, but drunk driving is the most narcissistic crime ever. People don’t drink and drive because they have bad childhoods, but because they only care about themselves.

  I fucking hate defense attorneys who defend drunk drivers. I swear they only want to rub salt in the wounds of victims. I have been trying to get the district attorney who defended that scum who killed my family disbarred. I wish the judge would order the drunk driver’s wife to divorce him. He doesn’t deserve a wife.

  My blood boils at how the criminal justice system lets that drunk driving criminal sleep in a comfortable bed and use condiments on his food. I hate how the judge let his family members attend his court appearances. He doesn’t deserve cheerleaders. I wish the judge would deny him all visitors, but of course that soft on crime judge won’t

  Fuck drunk drivers; fuck drinking and driving; fuck alcohol.

  Chapter Sixteen:

  I am having a dream. To some this would be a bad dream or maybe even a nightmare, but to me it is a good dream.

  I am dreaming of rimming. I know I will have to explain it to you, but don’t feel bad. I just recently learned about rimming so maybe that’s why I’m dreaming about it.

  According to the online “Urban Dictionary”, we can define rimming as “The act of using one's tongue on the anal rim of another person in order to gain and/or give sexual pleasure.”

  Doesn’t that arouse your groin? It arouses my cunt, that is for sure. I know polite society frowns on rimming, but I don’t care.

  I do care about finding some hunk who will rim my ass. Rimming my perfectly toned ass would be a treat. For me and for the hunk.

  I pray to God that one day, no make that one day soon, some hunk will be rimming my ass for hours on end. May my dream of rimming become reality. My anus sure yearns for that.

  Chapter Seventeen:

  As awesome as third parties are, there is one third party that rules above the rest: the party that I founded, the Vision Revolution Party.

  Don’t let anyone tell you that third parties can’t win. After all, recall all the victories I had as a third party candidate! I became Governor after all. Just like Jesse Ventura.

  You may not have even heard of my beloved Vision Revolution Party. Well, you will soon. Maybe it’s because I have mostly focused my efforts on state affairs. When I turn 35 I can run for President of the United States. I’ll be the first woman President. The first third party President. The first Emirati President. The first cool President.

  Vote for third parties, people. Especially when I run under a third party ticket.

  Long live the Vision Revolution Party!

  Chapter Eighteen:

  In addition to all my other activities, I also am a lead singer of a rock band called the Third Party Mavericks. I’m a mover and shaker.

  I’m a little like Hayley Williams but more punk and more major key. Also I’m not a white chick like her, but Emirati. As far as I know I’m the only Emirati lead singer of a punk band. There was that book about a Muslim chick who liked Heavy Metal called Heavy Metal Islam or something like that, but that’s the closest you get to me. Otherwise, I’m totally unique.

  My band mostly plays bars and small clubs. I don’t care for that scene, but what can I do? You can check us out on YouTube if you like.

  Unlike with the books, my music doesn’t make that much money so I don’t focus on it that much, but I still like to play every now and then.

  I guess I am like Hayley Williams in another way: the rest of my band is all dudes. By the way, I think Hayley Williams should marry Governor Nikki Haley’s son so she would be Hayley Haley. Perhaps, Piper Perabo, the actor, should marry one of Theologian John Piper’s sons so she could be Piper Piper. But I digress….

  Anyway, check out the Third Party Mavericks NOW!

  Chapter Nineteen:

  Today is a special day. It’s that time of the month. No, fool, not the time my cunt bleeds, at least not from period purposes, but the day I reward my special cunt by taking her to the waxing parlor.

  I am a firm advocate of waxing cunts. I wish everyone would wax their cunts. I feel sorry for the guys who have to date chicks with unwaxed cunts. I pity them indeed. Wax your cunt for crying out loud!

  I holler during the waxing sessions, yet strangely enough I also enjoy them. Masochists do find pleasure in odd things, even waxing.

  Why doesn’t the law make cunt waxing mandatory? I love looking at my cunt so I can just imagine how terrible I would feel if I had to look at an unwaxed cunt everyday. Hell, if I get to be President, which I will, I am going to sign an executive order mandating the waxing of all cunts.

  Otherwise, it’s time for me to scream and cum.

  Chapter Twenty:

  I don’t drink alcohol. Ever. I identity as a teetotaler. I also identify as straight edge. I think that drunk driver killing my family played a role in this.

  Otherwise, I think it is a good idea to be a teetotaler. Like the Earth Crisis song said, “An effective revolutionary through the clarity of mind.” I think about all these activists who get drunk. I cringe at the thought of being so drunk I would violate one of my convictions. If I got drunk, I might just sabotage the advancement of third parties. See why it’s safer and wiser to stay sober.

  I didn’t say anything earlier about tattoos, but now is the perfect time. I have a “sXe” tattoo; “sXe” is short for straight edge in case you don’t know. sXe is perfect for a punk rocker like me.

  Long live sXe! Hail sXe!

  Chapter Twenty One:

  I call Tiffany

  Tiffany answers, “Hello, girl. I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  “So what’s new?”

  “I just got the new Cosmo.”

  “Oh? What’s in there?”

  “You better get your ass down to your PO Box because this issue is the best. It’s full of kinky six tips.”

  “Yup, I better.”

  “Of course, I already know a lot about kinky stuff, but it never hurts to learn more. I don’t have a partner at the moment, as you very well know, but some of the tips you can do on yourself.”

  “Besides the kinky tips, the magazine has the usual beauty advice. Plus you won’t believe who is on the cover?”

  “I’m not going to spoil it for you, girl. Just go to your PO Box and get it; I will tell you this much: you won’t regret it.”

  “Amanda, that sounds like a plan.”

  “You’re smart like that.”

  “Ahh thanks.”

  “I love having you as a bestie.”

  “Same back at you.”

  “I love you, girl.”

  “I love you too.”

  Chapter Twenty Two:

  I hope you won’t think I am sick or twisted after telling you this. In fact, if you have a weak stomach, you better not listen.

  You know what I love to do? Besides just plain old playing with my cunt? Sometimes when I’m in a certain mood, I like to dig my perfe
ctly manicured nails into my cunt. Arousal!

  I can’t say I go for this every day, but somedays it calls me.

  If you are not a wimp; I highly recommend it to you. If you are waiting for a partner, this can satisfy you in the meantime. Clawing at my cunt makes me ooze with delight.

  This is one of the reasons I keep my nails sharp and long. Just imagine if I clipped my nails short and then I got into this cunt scratching mood: horror of horrors, I say!

  This may seem like something that gets old easily. Nope. It never seems to get old. Remember, I don’t do this every day, just every once in a while. It might get old if I did it every day. But I will never know because I only get in the mood for it every once in a while.

  Chapter Twenty Three:

  I actually like the Prohibition Party. They call themselves “America’s Oldest Third Party.” I never met a third party I didn’t like and the Prohibition Party rocks. Of course the Vision Revolution Party is better than the Prohibition Party, but the Prohibition Party is still swell.

  My past experiences make me a Prohibitionist. I would never ban most anything related to sex, but when it comes to booze, I want to ban it. After all, if we ban alcohol we can stop drunk driving. No alcohol means no drunk driving pure and simple.

  What did you expect? That I remain a teetotaler alone? Teetotalism necessarily leads to Prohibition. It logically follows.

  I hope the Prohibition Party wins more elections. When I became Governor of Texas, I tried to pass a statewide alcohol ban. Sadly, that didn’t work. But when I become President, I can sign an executive order banning alcohol.

  I love Prohibition and I love the Prohibition Party.

  Chapter Twenty Four:

  Do you think I am a feminist? I guess I would define myself as a feminist. I’m not one of those feminists who believe all heterosexual sex is rape.

  I cringe thinking that all heterosexual sex is rape. Because if all heterosexual sex is rape, then it means the feminists will outlaw heterosexual sex. Sure, I’ve gone 29 years without sex, but I want to have sex someday. As awesome as my orgasms are now, I just know they will be even better when I have heterosexual sex.

  I don’t want homosexual sex. I support homosexuality, don’t get me wrong. Just I’m a heterosexual sex only type of girl.

  I am a feminist when feminists do good stuff. After all, I’m all about women seizing power! I did it like no one else before me. Hillary may be better known than me, but I exemplify feminism much more. I rock. When we do feminism right, I support it.

  Chapter Twenty Five:

  My ass aches. Not in the sense of clinical problems, but in the sense my ass aches for dick. Will I ever find a man who enjoys inserting his dick in my anus? What if he abhors the thought of that? What if I have to spend the rest of my life with a man who despises anal sex? Sure I would at least be getting some type of sexual satisfaction, but I want to get anal sex if at all possible.

  I shoved dildos and vibrators up my ass more times than you can count. I don’t even need lubrication; it’s always pleasurable. My ass is so tough that nothing could hurt it; everything helps it.

  Maybe if I go to bed early tonight, I can snore away dreaming anal sex dreams.

  Unlike a cunt, it’s hard for me to see my anus, so that makes it hard for me to pleasure it appropriately. That’s why I need a dude. A woman can pleasure herself in many ways, but not in every way, mind you. I pray that God will give me an anal sex loving husband.

  Chapter Twenty Six:

  Jim Rohn, the motivational speaker, recommended reading biographies so we can learn from the lives of history’s best and worst.

  Good deal because I love reading biographies. I swear biographies are my favorite genre.

  I mostly focus on third party biographies. I love reading books on third party candidates. I enjoyed the books Eugene V. Debs: Citizen and Socialist and Nader: Crusader, Spoiler, Icon. I even enjoyed From Ike to Mao and Beyond: My Journey from Mainstream America to Revolutionary Communist about the Revolutionary Communist Party’s Bob Avakian.

  I also enjoyed Partisan Prophets: A History of the Prohibition Party 1854-1972 and The Socialist Party of America: A Complete History. Those books may not be considered biographies in the strict sense (i.e. they are not biographies about people), but at least they are biographies about third parties.

  You are always free to recommend more biographies to me as long as the biographies focus on third parties or third party candidates. I am crazy about third parties; that’s for sure.

  Chapter Twenty Seven:

  I call my beloved Tiffany again.

  Tiffany answers, yawning, “Hey girl, what are you up to?”

  “The same old exciting stuff. Want to hear about it?”

  “Of course I do! I’m your bestest friend ever!”

  “I have a confession to make. Please promise that you will still be my friend after I tell you this.”

  “Unless you have backstabbed me or plotted against me, I can’t imagine anything you say will cause me to defriend you.”

  “Whew! Good deal, because I need to tell you this.”

  “What is it?’

  I’m, I’m, I’m…”

  “You’re what? Just spit it out. You’re not one to beat around the bush.”

  “You’re right I don’t beat around the bush. You already know I wax my cunt, but that’s not my confession.”

  “So what is your confession?”

  “I’m a squirter.”

  “Oh!”

  “Not all the time, just on occasion.”

  “Of course I still support that. By the way, I love how we are so close that we can talk about these things.”

  “Indeed. I love you, girl.”

  Chapter Twenty Eight:

  I have a confession to make. I hope this won’t scare suitors away. Ugh! It’s tough enough to find good men so I hope my fatal flaw won’t repel them.

  I confess I snore.

  Yup, I not only snore, but I snore loudly.

  Snoring isn’t lady like, but I can’t help it.

  What man will choose a snorer over a non-snorer? Snoring isn’t sexy.

  Maybe I will meet a man who snores too; that way we won’t mind each other snoring.

  I hope I won’t keep my soulmate up all night. That would suck.

  Maybe one day when I get richer I can pay for surgery to stop snoring. I fear it costs too much money. We’ll see. It might be worth it. Sometimes you got to pay the price for love.

  Snoring is a drag. It makes me feel self-conscious. At least I have so much else going for me I don’t think about it all the time.

  I just fear I won’t be able to share my bed with a mate. Say it won’t be so.

  Chapter Twenty Nine:

  I support animal rights. Hell I’m even a member of PETA. So of course, that means I’m a vegan. I’ve been vegan forever now. I avoid animal products for both food and clothing. The Vegetarian Resource Group’s Guide to Fast Food even taught me which fast food joints I can eat at.

  I love vegan hardcore punk music. I love eating vegan foods. I don’t wear those vegan message shirts, but I love the vegan lifestyle.

  I feel so blessed as a vegan. Veganism rocks my world and it rocks your world too, or it should, anyways. Tiffany is a vegan just like me so we share a lot of food.

  If you become a vegan, you won’t regret it. I know I don’t. It’s not like I have done it only a few months, I have been vegan for over a decade.

  I love animal liberation. I support legal animal liberation methods only. I wouldn’t get involved in illegal stuff as the ever so legal vegan diet does way more than any illegal action ever could!

  Veganism rules!

  Chapter Thirty:

  I just ordered myself a special present.

  Yup, Good Vibrations just sent me something special.

  A chastity belt.

  I’m kinky, for sure.

  It would be so much more fun if I had a partner to lock me up and
hold the key. But alas, I do not. So I will have to make due just wearing this chastity belt and withholding the key from myself.

  Come to think about it; this seems rather lame. But it’s the best I can do at the moment. It’s better than NOT having a chastity belt. There, we kinky people can have positive attitudes too!

  This chastity belt excites me; it presses against my cunt, thus it makes me feel warm inside. It doesn’t interfere with tampons or douching, so don’t you worry about that.

  Ah! Mild delight. Mild delight is better than no delight. I love chastity belts even when I can’t use them to the fullest.

  My cunt thanks God Almighty for inventing chastity belts and blessing earth with them.

  Chapter Thirty One:

  Who coined the term “Republicrat”? Whoever did deserves kudos. I want to hug that person.

  The term is so appropriate because it suggests the two parties are one of the same.

  I hate Republicrats. I hate Republicrats. I hate Republicrats.

  Republicrats oppress glorious third party candidates. Republicrats need to move the fuck over, because we need third parties in American political discourse.

  I do not plan to stop until every tongue across the land speaks pro-third party words.

  Republicrats love to rub their victories in our faces, but that must stop. I dedicate my life to making sure that third parties seize power.