Boogie Nights: Cynthia Nixon Announces N.Y. Gubernatorial Campaign :

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Boogie Nights: Cynthia Nixon Announces N.Y. Gubernatorial Campaign

by Chris Chichester on 04/06/18

Women don't care. We care about nice arms, great eyes, a big dick. I never once heard a woman say: He had such a big, full scrotum. 

You got what I want? What I want is to get laid. What I need is to get laid. I drink coffee, have sex, buy pies and enjoy battery-operated devices.  You haven't met: The Rabbit.

Just when I think it couldn't get any gayer than: Mr. Broadway has to tinkle.  Well, first there would have to be a no-fucking section. 

What I wanna know is: When did all the men get together and decide that they would only get it up for giraffes with big breasts?  We're not dating. It's a fuck thing.  

Forget the math. Just don't fuck on a first date.  You're fine. True romance cannot exist without good sex.  Personally I'm loving it. Up to the point where a guy wants me to swallow. 

My fuck buddy moved to Chicago. Now we have phone sex. 

Baptism is a very odd tradition. It's about cleansing this little baby of its sins when clearly babies come into this world with a clean slate and we're the ones who fuck them up. 

I don't know why it's morning sickness when it's all fucking day long sickness. Unless its: M-O-U-R-N as in mourning the loss of your single life. 

I am so fucked up. I am never going to be happy. It's just not going to happen for me.  If you're friends won't fuck you, who will? 

There's a shit, fuck, motherfucker, fuck, shit situation.  Oh, I'm fine but why don't we ask Charlotte's hoo-ha if it'd like a side of fries? What are you going to do over there without your job? Eat croissants? 

I love you, I love you Steve. I'm sorry. I never should have said that. It's just that I love you and I fucked everything up and now it's too late. I'm sorry I'm doing this. I'm sorry. Please don't look at me. 

You know, if the whole cum situation were reversed do you think men would get any where near the stuff?  

Now there's certain camp that believe whoever holds the dick, holds the power.  The question is: If he goes up your butt will he respect you more or respect your less? That's the issue.  

I used to masturbate to a busboy who was rude to me once. What do you think that means? All right. The cheese stands alone.

Are you all right? I can't believe he took your shoes. Just don't give him head again. 

Damn it! I fucked up Debbie's B!

All we talk about any more is big or balls or small dicks.  How does it happen that four smart women have nothing to talk about but boyfriends? It's like seventh grade with bank accounts. 

Oral sex is like God's gift to women. You can get off without worrying about getting pregnant.  But if you don't go down on him, how can you expect him to go down on you?

The women I respect the most are those I choke, slap the ass and spit in the mouth. 

I can't say: I love you. I can't. It's not in my DNA. Don't let him pressure you into it.  It's just this guy's cheap ploy to watch you be a lesbian for a night. 

It's times like this I wish women could go to male prostitutes.  You farted, you're human. 

You blew me off for a politically incorrect piece of meat? My father came over every night at seven on the dot and I have no clue about men, either. 

I can't believe this. We spend our lives hiding the fat in our ass and you're putting it right on your face?  

So what? They get a medal for correctly identifying a feeling? I feel pissed off. 

I only give head to get ahead.  She was a lawyer. He was a sandwich. 

I can't believe that a guy would think I was sexy.  You see this is why I don't date. The men out there are freaks. 

What is this thing that guys have these days about wanting to shave your pubic hair?  It's obvious they want a little girl. 

I know you're probably busy having mind-blowing sex. But I feel you need to know that your good friend Miranda Hobbes has just taken a piece of cake out of the garbage and eaten it. You'll probably need this information when you check me into The Betty Crocker Clinic. 

Sex is the thing I try to get them to see me as after I win them over with my personality.  To me, the mark of a fine penis is width. 

Why didn't I use a condom?  He has one ball, and I have one lazy ovary. In what twisted world does that create a baby? It's like the Special Olympics of Conception.

I can't have sex with a sandwich. Can I? Jesus Christ: The women's movement? I haven't had coffee yet.  Men are shit. 

No, I can't have the baby. I could barely find the time to schedule this abortion.

What's the big mystery? It's my clitoris. It's not The Sphinx.  Is it just me or is Valentine's Day on steroids this year?

The only two choices for women: witch and sexy kitten. You two are crazy to get married. Marriage ruins everything. 

Soul mates only exist in the Hallmark Aisle of Duane Read Drugs. What? My marriage is going through a rough spot. I don't have time to wax.  

I was once broken up with by a guy's doorman. I'm sorry, Ms. Hobbes, Jonathan won't be coming down. Ever. 

I swear to God. I love you. But I will have to kill you. I always thought when the right guy came along all my bullshit would calm down and go away.

If they're not married, they're gay. Or burned for a divorce. Or aliens from the planet: Don't Date Me. Guys are such liars.  

Christ! When did being single translate into being gay?

I have been out with some of those guys. The short, fat, poor ones.  It makes absolutely no difference. They are just as self-centered and unappreciative as the good-looking ones.

I just realized maybe its maturity or the wisdom that comes with age. But the witch in Hansel and Gretel, she's very misunderstood.  I mean, the woman builds her dream house and these brats come along and start eating it.

Don't let anyone get all cheerleader-y on me.  Look we're both afraid we're going to kill the baby.  That's a given. 

I do love you. But I've never lived with anybody before.  And I'm stubborn and I like the remote and I can't cook.  I don't do laundry sometimes for, like, two weeks and my sponges smell.  You're going to see all that and I'm scared. 

I'm on valium. Eveything is o.k.  Maybe I should be honest and tell him now how I really feel.  Which is: What if somebody better comes along?

Last night Steve and I held hands for an hour and a half watching the fire. He was looking into my eyes. I was looking for the remote.

I'm never going to be a girly-girl. I never will. 

She's like those guys you have the great second date with, and then never hear from them again.  I pretend they died. 

I'm dating skid marks. When your boyfriend is so comfortable that he cannot be bothered to wipe his ass, there's a problem. 

I'm so bloated and gassy.  I feel like a flotation device.  

Charlotte has pudding in her Prada.  And I don't have time to tell you what's wrong with corduroy.  If I hadn't accidentally gotten pregnant by Steve I never would have had Brady and no time to eat.  So I never would have fit into my skinny jeans. 

No, I told you. No white dress.  No ivory. Nothing that says virginal.  I have a child. The jig is up. 

Do you have a completely unremarkable friend? Or maybe a house plant I could go to dinner with on Saturday night?

He doesn't even know me. At least he could get to know me before he rejects me. 

I'm a 34-year-old woman with braces and I'm on a liquid diet.  Pain doesn't begin to cover it. 

I'm going to find my Inner Goddess if it kills me.  They look down on napping at work. 

We loved, thank you. You enriched my life. Now go prosper. But I'm more: We didn't work out. You need not to exist. 

In a court room reasonable doubt can get you off for murder. In an engagement it makes you feel like a bad person.

Guys are such liars. Do you have to be a super model to get a date in New York? It's tits on toast, baby. But you make it work.

I'm sorry, Steve. I'm an asshole. That's sweet and gross at the same time.

You know what used to make me feel better? Cookies. 

Oh! I forgot to tell you! I'm a fire hydrant! What are you? Fucking crazy.

Freedom Lies In Being Bold -- Robert Frost