Archive | April, 2015

DSM Diva: 15 Lip Tips that’ll Have You Committed!

8 Apr dsn diva header

If Girl, Interrupted taught us anything, it’s that crazy girls are crazy hot! Want men to romanticize you with roses and the “crazy chicks are the best in bed” label? Then follow along with these Lip Tips, sure to make you the star of the psych ward!

1. Bi-Polar. Nothing says “I’m single” like an attention grabbing makeout sesh with another lady!!! Next time you lock eyes with him, quickly lock lips with her, so he knows you’re interested!

2. Little Miss Munchausen/Munchausen Sweetie Syndrome. Pretend to be mentally disturbed to keep your keeper! Obvs!

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3. Manic-Impression. Make the first impression count with a daintily disrupted display that says “damaged and DTF”: Smeared eyeliner, blistered lips, bruised forearms, unkempt hair, and a shivering hot bod!

4. Attention Deficit Diva.  Say so long to that deficit! Multitask in style, but more importantly, obtain a ‘script for your special needs… to lose weight and gain attention! 😉 😉 😉

crazy.girl lip service mag5. Faux-bia. Need the spotlight on the spot? Next time you’re going ignored in a group, try this quick fix: Screech loudly and point at something in your vicinity, like a blemish on your friend’s face. Apologize for making such a scene and proceed to open up about your trauma for as long as you can stretch it. Add tears and a trembling, glossy lip to complete your ensem’!

6. Dissociative Me, Myself, and Identity Disorder. Don’t rely on the same Plain Jane identity as yesterday. She’s inherently bad and does bad things, after all. You should forget her. Her who? That’s the spirit!  Switch things up until you’re someone that he finds attractive!

7. Klepto-man-iac. Can’t find a man of your own? That’s what your friends’ are for!

8. Anorexia Mimosa. There’s a scientific reason you feel so good getting drinks with the girls, and it’s not because of those hags you hang out with! Alcohol gives you a radiant flush and its diuretic properties battle the bloat and you, obviously, can’t eat with a vodka redbull in your mouth! Plus, it makes barhopping with your band of backstabbing basic bitches more bearable. We’ll drink to that!

9. De-men-tia. Holding out for someone who will love you at any size? Forget it: You’re not gonna get married before your 21st birthday with that attitude! Just go with the last guy. That’ll do, pig. That’ll do.


10. Obsessively Compulsively Dissuasive Disorder. As our readers know, the easiest way to build confidence and love the skin you’re in is through the act of repeatedly, incessantly, and constantly inhibiting others! Next time your gal pal looks hot, advise her to change and maybe stay in for the night. Follow up with a text later, reminding her why she needs to cover up. And an email in the morning, to be on the safe side. Stay on top of her and be persistent. But, remember, don’t push too hard or you could have an Agore-a-cutie on your hands!

11. Agore-a-cutie! Don’t let a needy job, family, or social obligations get in the way of what’s really important to you! Avoid judgement and pore-clogging germs, and ensure you always look your best by reserving enough time at home to perform a half-a-day beauty regime. Look to Lip Service or GOOP to find a plan that works for you! We recommend our Fast-mask-wash-purge-exfoliate-sprint-clean-extract-moisturize-repeat Cleanse!

crazy sexy girl lip service 12. Schizooohh. Nothing sets the mood like being watched. And, lucky for you, you’re always being watched! But, sometimes, the best way to turn him, and Them, on comes from within! Listen to that little voice inside you for guidance next time he’s inside you. But which he?!

13. Manic Monday. Mondays are the worst… the last thing the office needs is you showing up looking bloated! Begin your day with a diet plan that’ll jump start the rest of your week’s weight loss: Take a break from food and focus on something more productive, like shopping!  Shop, shop, shop…shop until you drop! More, more, more… so you never feel bored!! Buy, buy, buy… you’re a secret spy!!! Spy, spy, spy… because only you can fly!!! No one can stop you, not until you’re blue. No one can stop you because YOU’RE GOD.

14. Borderline Purse-onality Disorder. Psycho-ordinate your purses with your mood! Or at least the mood you want people to think you’re in… or the mood you’re in when you trick people into thinking that’s the mood you want people to think you’re in! Oops, was that on purpose???!!!??

15. Delusionaughty. Don’t dress for the man you have, dress for the man you want. Be the man you want. A naughty man… for your man. Policeman, Fireman, Superman, Salesman, Astronaut Man, Doctor Man, Pilot Man, Presi-don’t go there girlfriend, he’s taken… by you! You’re under arrest – for naughty.

Samantha Miranda

Samantha Miranda 

“Kiss my skinny, white ass.” The fashion world has showered accolades on the “Preppy cunt—meets—Los Angeles scenester” style of the self-proclaimed model turned media mogul Samantha Miranda. Bored by pedestrian-wear, Miranda established her own clothing line to aid the uninformed and tasteless on how to be become hip quick.  After recognizing her gift for helping the less fortunate, the designer began a career as a self-help writer, giving plain, frumpy and ordinary women beauty tips and relationship advice.  A weekly column soon blossomed into the media empire that is Lip Service Industries. Now, women of some types are gifted with the ability to become the pretty, popular girl, thanks to the Life Style Bible, Lip Service Magazine.

Love Letters to the Editor: Lip Servers Write In

6 Apr
marty mc

Jon Massey, 27
Greater Chicagoland Area

I should start by saying that my girlfriend and I are huge fans of Lip Service. It really has transformed our lives.  Before we stumbled upon your blog, my girlfriend weighed over a hundred pounds!  Now, she can finally fit into a size zero and I’m hoping she loses some more so we can shop in the kids section for her.  I can’t thank you enough for that!  It’s like I’m actually excited to see her now and not super grossed out or embarrassed to take her out into public.  So, I love all the dieting advice and how much more willing she is to please me.  It’s almost like having a sex slave that doesn’t know that they’re a sex slave!!!  I guess dreams do come true…well, for a while.

What I’m here to complain about is one of your articles from last November and some of the ideas you presented in it for using urine as, like, a beauty thing.  Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m a big fan of the golden shower (me being the shower and her getting golden [especially if we’re in a hotel in a public place with a big window {nothing feels better than seeing the look on some dudes face that says “man, his bitch will let him piss on him? I wish mine was like that”}]).  So, props for including that golden nugget so that the golden showers have become a regular thing…but no thanks for ANY of the other pissy advice!

Here’s what happened: I went on my yearly retreat with my old frat buddies at a camping site in North Wisconsin.  We call ourselves the “The Man Jocks”.  It’s just a time to get away, hang with the bros, have a few buds, shoot some guns, and kill deer for fun.  Ha, it seems like somebody always gets sick or wounded… this time it was Peter, “Ahhh, I think we didn’t cook Bambi long enough!  I’m pissing blood!”  He said, and Joe was all, “Well, you’ll be shitting blood, too!” and he took this little pen knife and stabbed Peter in the right butt cheek.  Man, we all still joke about that one.  So, we were on our little man-scape for about a week in early November.  I get back to the condo my girl and I had bought and I noticed a couple of jars with something yellow in them on a windowsill.  I ignored those as she immediately wanted sex.  I complied, of course, and I noticed she looked a little more taught.  Her skin was aglow, but, to be honest, she smelled like piss.  I thought maybe I was the one that smelled like piss because I had been camping for a week.  After the sex, she begged me to piss on her.

This was all well and good, but, usually, as long as we weren’t in a hotel, we saved the golden showers for after we’ve had shower sex.  I looked at the bed and decided “why not?”  It wasn’t like I was the one that would be doing the laundry.  So, I pissed all over her thinking that we’d have round two in the shower or something.  This didn’t happen.  She turned her shoulder and went to sleep.  I was confused, slightly disgusted and angry that she wanted sleep more than have another go at it.  Who knew that peeing on your girlfriend would leave you feeling anything but dominant/macho?  After a couple of minutes, I got sick of smelling all the urine on her so I went and took a shower. In the shower, I noticed another jar of something yellow.  I didn’t even know we owned jars!  I opened it up and it was the undeniable sent of urine.  I went over to the windowsill in the living room and opened one of those jars and, it too, had the unmistakable odor of piss.

I needed a beer, what the fuck was going on with my girl?  To my utter disgust, I opened the fridge and saw more of these jars of piss.  Luckily, she had saved me a couple beers.  I cracked one open, chugged it fast, opened another and shut the fridge door.  I noticed something new on the fridge; it was a welcoming sight: a new article from Lip Service.  I was slightly distracted by having chugged a beer and seeing an article from a magazine that has rescued my relationship so many times.  Then, I started to read it.  Was this some kind of sick joke?!?  I mean, your other articles in the past had been solid advice for your basic American girl looking to be a better fit for your basic American bro.  But this? I mean, this article is basically saying your piss, or anyone’s piss, can save you and, the article only stops short of saying it could save the whole world.  I felt betrayed.  I ripped up the article and threw it away.  I opened the door to the bedroom and saw my once beautiful girl in a pissed soaked bed.  I threw out every jar of piss in the condo and drank all the beer and booze at my disposal.  I passed out in the living room watching some Jay Leno reruns.

I woke up to shit being thrown at me. “Where’s my fucking piss?!?!?!?”  She screamed at me, “I’ve been saving those ones on the windowsill for a whole fucking week!!!”  Oh shit, I thought.  Did she just raise her voice to me?  I told her to shut the fuck up and told her she had to cut that fucking piss shit out.  My voice seemed to have set her back inline and she promised to quit the fucking piss shit out.

Things seemed to go back to normal after that.  You know, I would go to work, or go golfing, or hang out with the bros, and I’d come back and everything would be cleaned and she’d be cooking me a hearty dinner while she made plans to mix herself a smoothie.  Then, I took a weekend trip to Vegas for my bro’s bachelor party.  That was epic to say the least!  When I started going through her stuff after the trip, I found a hidden bottle of piss in her dresser.  I looked around the whole condo and found more and even some empty piss bottles hidden in weird places.  She was out picking me up some Chick-fil-A, so I lined up the bottles of piss on the counter and waited for her to get back.  I grabbed some beers and flipped through some of my skin mags while watching some more Jay Leno reruns and playing a bit with my skin flute.  I figured I wouldn’t want to be having sex that night.  My girl might be drowning in her own piss again!  She came back and put the food on the counter next to the bottles of piss.

“What are you going to say?  That they aren’t yours?”  I asked her.

“No, they’re mine.”  She said, as she stared at the floor and started to tear up.

“Dump them out, and sit down.”  I told her.  I was trying to be gentle, but… in all honestly, I just wanted to yell my fucking head off at her till the cops were called.  I grabbed my bucket of chicken bits and sat down and ate as she dumped her piss out in the bathroom, sobbing.  She got down to the last one as I was just about done with my chicken bits.  I noticed she was taking longer for that last jar and that I hadn’t heard anything go into the toilet.  I ran to the bathroom to find her chugging her own piss!  I grabbed the bottle away from her.

“Just a little more, please!  I’m getting so pretty!!!  You’re going to love me forever!!!”

“There are better ways!  Just stick with the diets and the sex!”  I said loudly.  She got quiet and stared harder at the ground.  “Do you have more piss somewhere?”  I asked her. “Do you??” I repeated. Then, she started to really cry.

“Yes…”  she said, through sniffles and sobs.

“Where is it?”  She sadly led me to the guest bedroom’s walk-in closet.  I was horrified… it was like walking into a gas chamber.  She had an actual bathtub installed in the closet with what was undeniably full of piss.  “How the fuck did you fill that whole fucking thing with piss?!?”

“Well…” she said, still crying, “…it’s not all mine.”

“Excuse me, what?  Whose then?!”  I was in shock.

“Well, a couple of the girls come over when you’re at work and we drink water until we’re almost sick and put our piss in there.  We take turns bathing in it.  It’s kind of like a tanning salon, you know?”

“No it’s not! Tanning salons are good and healthy for you and you come out looking gorgeous!  This is just bathing in yours and somebody else’s piss!”  I was mad and grossed out, but I also didn’t want to lose my investment.  I mean, this girl could turn heads.  So, what if she had a secret pee pee problem?  “We’ll get you help, ok?”  I asked her.  She sobbed a bit and nodded in agreement.

After making her find and admit herself to the best 28-day rehab program, and me going through about 2,800 skin mags (HA!), I picked her up from the hospital.  She looked great… well, ok.  She probably had put on five pounds or so, but she didn’t look like a pee bather anymore.  Things have been going alright since the rehab, but, as they told me, “…it’s a long hard road.”  The rehab place wasn’t exactly designed for her specific problem… they dealt more with people that were addicted to port-a-potty baths (I think this stemmed from a Cosmo article that was in the same vein as your piss article).  But, yeah, I have my 83 pound, 5 foot 6 inch girl back, cooking me meals and sucking my dick.  So, I’m not super upset, but you seriously put me through hell and, for that, I will never forgive you.

Also, since I do like your services, I was wondering what the best, or preferred way, was to cum on a girl?  Also, I read an article in the back of one of my skin mags that said they have a pill that can help you produce more jizz-sauce.  Would massive amounts of my happy goop on my girl be a possibly better alternative to her bathing/drinking piss?  Like, could she finally shed that fucking rehab weight?  What the fuck were they feeding her?

PS… I still plan on pissing on her on a regular basis.  Man, you gotta love the golden shower!  Especially when it’s coming from a shower like mine (photos attached)!