Scared Bunny

I have decided I need a new job. There are lots of professional reasons to want a new job, like more money and better advancement opportunities, but the biggest one is to meet women.

Right now I have a home office. It is nice to be able to work in my underwear, but I don’t meet many people. I do go visit clients, but most of them are middle aged or older men. I have considered marrying for money next time, but I don’t want to have to move to Canada to do it. Besides, I really can’t see myself becoming a huge fan of Judy Garland.

So today I was interviewing with a bank President and got to meet a couple of their secretaries and tellers. That really cemented for me the idea of finding a new job. These women were very hot. It could be that my perception is somewhat skewed by my celibacy, but I don’t think so.

I’d kind of like to meet attractive women someplace besides online and in bars, especially since my friends always end up wanting to go to strip clubs, which means meeting even more strippers.

I will say I have at least tried to move away from dating strippers. Not saying I wouldn’t hook-up with one, just wouldn’t get serious. Instead, I have been paying attention to waitresses. In normal bars it’s hard to get a waitress’ attention because they get hit on all the time. It’s a little easier in a strip club because most guys won’t usually flirt with the waitress while they have a stripper sitting in their lap.

I have been informed this is a bad plan though. You see, lots of girls become waitresses because they are just too nervous to become strippers. But after they spend some time in the club and see how much the good dancers are making, they end up dancing. So dating a waitress from a strip club is supposedly just like dating a dancer. I am tempted to give it a shot anyway. Of course, to accomplish this I will have to visit some strip clubs.

I actually doubt I will do that just because I have a moral objection to paying $6 for a beer.

I may start dating in a week or so if I find someone to go out with. I didn’t go out with anyone the last couple of months. First I broke up with a certain lady. And I have had my son, for the last month, so he takes priority.

The problem is that lots of people who know me now know about this blog. That doesn’t really matter I guess since I don’t think any of them want to go out with me. It does mean that anyone who knows my friends or me now either knows about the blog or would in short order. On one hand, it means I can’t write about them while we’re dating. On the other, they’d be hard pressed to complain about it if I wrote about them after we broke up. Of course, I really shouldn’t get serious with anyone as long as I am totally nuts.

In the mean time, I need a vacation. I haven’t left this town for over 2 years except on business. The last trip was a cruise I won. I took my brother. The cruise happened to coincide with what would have been my 10th wedding anniversary, which made for an interesting combination of melancholy and entertainment. I will admit that hooking-up is a great way to get your mind off things like that, and cruise ships are great places to hook up.

I didn’t really meet any crazy women though. There was one girl who hooked up with me, lost interest, and then got mad when she saw me with another girl. That’s not really crazy though. The other girl wasn’t a problem until the morning we were leaving the ship. Her roommate had also hooked up and, as we were getting up to leave she noticed that she had lost some money. Given how drunk she was the night before, it’s not that big a surprise, although there is no reason to even carry money on a cruise ship. But when I bent over to pick up my shipboard ID card from the floor, she convinced herself I was actually taking her money. Why she would think her money was on the floor is beyond me, but whatever. It’s not like we were on our way to the altar after a couple of nights on the boat anyway.

So, unless I start a new job in short order, I am looking to get out of Dodge for a few days. Any suggestions for a good place are welcome. I will give you the requirements.

1) I am not looking to mortgage my house for the trip
2) I don’t want to “rough it”
3) There need to be attractive available women.

I really don’t want much, I swear.

I know you have all been waiting patiently to hear about what happened last night. Let me set the stage. You have me and my partner in crime, a strip club, no cover charge, and $1 beer (Shinerbock no less). As you can see, all the pieces were in place for an evening of epic proportions. So what happened?

Nada.

That’s right, I do not have an exciting tale to tell. It’s not that there weren’t attractive women: there were. And it’s not that we didn’t get buzzed: we did. But there wasn’t anything exciting. The highlights consisted of watching one dancer on the last side stage lie down and prop herself up on her elbows, staring at a guy until he tipped her (a very impressive move I must say), and me suggesting to a second dancer, who mentioned she was looking for a guy to make some cash off of, that she should try the guy who tipped the non-dancing dancer (she reported back that she got $140 from him).

Needless to say, this has left me kind of at a loss for what to write about. I am still holding the previous story, so that’s out for now. I also have a story from a reader, but I was holding that until I saw if I got a few more submissions for a potential series. (email stories to damnruserious@gmail.com) So let’s talk about ex’s.

First, the original crazy ex sent me a message today. I found out why she hasn’t been talking much lately. She found someone. Now, lest we assume it was the guy dumb enough to give her his cell phone…it was a woman. Yes, I was aware of her bisexual tendencies. She had told me, in fact, that the only person besides me she ever felt safe with was a female lover. I had forgotten about that though. It shouldn’t surprise anyone though. I have said before that 3 kinds of women seem to like me: crazy women, bisexual women and strippers, and there is a lot of crossover between those 3 groups. She happens to hit all 3 categories. No word as to whether or not this affects her intentions when it comes to me, but who knows if she’ll ever come back here anyway.

I have also been contacted by another ex, who was wondering when her story would appear. Turns out she’s a fan. Unfortunately, her story won’t be making an appearance. It’s not really a funny story, and has some very serious aspects that just don’t belong here.

That reminds me of another lady from the past. It seems I had met a couple of ladies online. They both lived out of state, so we hadn’t even met. The first one got extremely possessive. She would call at 3 in the morning just to see if I was home, and if I didn’t answer (which I tend not to do when I’m sleeping) she’d freak out convinced I was with another woman. Needless to say, that was too much even for me, especially since we hadn’t even met. So we went our separate way.

It was a few months later when I started chatting with the second. She and I really seemed to be hitting it off. She had her quirks. If she called and I didn’t answer, she assumed I was avoiding her, and she’d call my home, cell and work numbers every 5 minutes until I’d answer. We got in to it over that, but were doing fine, until I heard rumors that this first lady was telling people I was stalking the second.

I found this really frustrating since it was so far from true. Honestly, she called me about 95% of the times we talked. I assumed it was just jealousy on the part of the first woman, and that may have been partially true. However, while she was chatting with me online, she’d also be chatting with this other woman claiming I was stalking her. Imagine me having chats where she was calling this woman crazy and a liar, while, at the same time, she was chatting with that woman saying I wouldn’t leave her alone.

I guess I was lucky that I never met either of these ladies in person, because heaven knows what they would have been like. Last I heard the first lady was unexpectedly pregnant and had eloped with the father (despite the fact they are both in their late 30’s). The other had spent some time in a hospital and didn’t understand why I couldn’t be her friend. (I guess my insistence that she tell everyone she had lied to about me that I wasn’t a stalker was just too much.)

So for those of you who are wondering why I’m not dating, it’s because I need a break from crazy. I have enough craziness inside my own mind without bringing in any from the outside. I kind of think you have to be crazy to want to be with me. Maybe I can get just sane enough to have a better class of psycho girlfriend. I’d hate to be totally sane though. That would get boring.

It’s been one of those days.

You know, I have intentionally not talked about a certain person. I had promised her I wouldn’t “trash” her, so I haven’t told the story. But a couple of things happened today.

First, a couple of people who seemed to know something about real world past decided to leave shitty comments on my blog. (Hint folks, this ain’t a democracy. Anybody that wants to trash me can do it on their own blog. Mine is for entertainment purposes, and I define what is entertaining.) Now, of course, I have no way of knowing for sure who it was, but then something else happened.

An ex decided to call me up to make arrangements to get her stuff. Given that this call came not long after the comments were left on the blog, I am not sure they weren’t related. In the course of this call I was accused of dating someone I have never met, and of using a chatroom I haven’t visited in about 6 months to pick up women. On top of that, it was made pretty clear to me that these accusations are being repeated by said person to mutual friends.

I am starting to wonder exactly why I should continue to hold back on this great story. I mean, hell, if I am going to be trashed by this person, why should I keep my word?

I know that the people that know both of us would LOVE to hear the story (complete with the emails and text messages that go along with it). They are basically gossipmongers and they’d enjoy talking shit about her as much as they enjoy talking shit about me. Most of them HAVE talked shit about her out of jealousy, so they’d relish the opportunity to do it again.

I know you guys would like it, because it is off the charts wild.

And heaven knows it wouldn’t be bad for me if these people who are hearing how awful I am got an idea of what the person they are trusting is really like.

But, you know what, I am going to be true to my word for now, because I’m not going to just unilaterally decide that my promise isn’t valid anymore. I’m not saying I’m going to keep this story to myself forever if I keep getting lied about though. I mean, hell, my truth is a hell of a lot more entertaining than her lies any day. Or, should I say, the lies that she told me are more interesting than the lies she tells about me.

Anyway, tomorrow night I am meeting a friend for a bar trip. He and I always end up with great stories when we go out, so expect a report after tomorrow. He is the man who was with me the night of the infamous “Jerome Note”. He is my partner in crime when it comes to forcing people to go to shitty strip clubs against their will. He has seen me comatose from weed (I am not a big smoker by any stretch), and seen me try to sleep in a strip club (which is very hard to do.) So I have no doubt that Wednesday will include a story from our trip. Tomorrow won’t because, well, there is no way in hell I am going to come home and post something. You’ll be lucky to get an update at all tomorrow.

I also have to say that my self-imposed celibacy is getting old fast. I haven’t been with anyone since my last break-up, and that is a long time for me. In case you haven’t noticed, I am rather fond of sex. I am not saying that is the purpose of going out tomorrow, but I am also not going to say I’m not going to take advantage of any good offers. I will say I won’t be finding my next future ex tomorrow because we’re not going any place I’d be looking for a relationship.

I have been told in the comments I need to go to church. I’d say I would, but my ex-wife is a good churchgoing lady, and she cheated on me when we were married, so that kind of shoots that down. As a matter of fact, her mother is a crazy woman, so maybe instead of a crazy ex story I can tell a crazy mother-in-law story. That would be fun.

But, for now, I am going to go out tomorrow and likely have a lot of alcohol. If you see a really drunk guy, come up and say hi. Even if it’s not me, you will be making some guy’s day.

With all of the bad things about dating crazy women, I thought it was time to list some of the good things. Always got to look for the silver lining after all. For the record, this list does not apply to dating crazy men. I guess it might, but I don’t date men, so I can’t say.

1) Great sex

This is a big one, and one guys talk about a lot. Crazy women are usually wild in the sack. It’s probably the biggest reason they are hard to let go of. They always come up with new things to do, and if you come up with something, they’ll be more than willing to try it. You do have to stop thinking about where they learned some of the things they like to do, but you have to do that with just about anyone. They also tend to have huge sexual appetites, so guys like me who like a lot of sex are generally pretty happy with that part of the relationship.

2) It’s never boring

Let’s be honest, sometimes you look at the person you are with and sigh, because you know exactly what is going to happen this week, next week and the week after. There’s just a rut you can get in to. But with crazy women there is no pattern. Just when you think you have them pegged, they surprise you with a new way to be crazy. If they are looking for a reason to be mad at you, they’ll find one. And if you stop doing something, they’ll find something else they don’t like. Hell, if push comes to shove, they can always imagine something you did. So you wake up every day not knowing what that day will bring. Exciting, isn’t it?

3) Amazing weight loss

When I was with the crazy lady that got me starting this whole thing, I went from 210 pounds to about 180, and 180 on my frame is downright skinny. A nice thing about being stressed all the time is that your increased heart rate really does wonders for your metabolism. You’re always burning twice as many calories as normal. Plus, the butterflies in your stomach really help keep your appetite under control. I had no problem skipping meals. Sometimes it was a little hard to keep dinner down, but some people work hard for years to develop that same “problem”. If I were a Hollywood starlet I’d fit right in!

4) You are the life of the party for the rest of your life

Hey, you guys are all reading this because I have some stories worth telling. Eliminate all the crazy women from my life and what can I talk about? Do you REALLY want another blog where somebody tells you what they had for breakfast and how their boss is a wiener? Of course not! What you want is to hear about the repeated disasters from my love life. You’re not alone. My friends love these stories. Hell, my friends tell their friends, who tell their friends. When I meet someone that knows a friend, they always know who I am, and they always have questions because they assume their friend exaggerated. I have people telling me I should have my own magazine column and radio shows because I would always have something to talk about.

5) No matter what happens, you’re prepared

Really, nothing surprises me anymore. I’m totally used to dealing with things that nobody could imagine would possibly happen. It takes a lot more to really piss me off now. It’s so easy to just tell myself “Eh, it could be worse.” and not just because I imagine it could be worse. I KNOW it could be worse. I’m at the point know where anything short of being killed as I sleep isn’t really going to phase me. And if that happens, what will I care? I’ll be dead.

So, there you have it. There are at least 5 really good reasons to date crazy women. I think I’ll go find one. I wouldn’t mind dropping a couple of pounds.

Yet another late night post. I was kind of hoping that a night at the bar was going to give me some material, but when those plans fell through, well, I started thinking. Let’s see what’s on the net.

Before I get started, to those of you who don’t read the comments, you are really missing out. Some of the best lines come from readers.

So anyway, I am browsing the net at home on a Saturday night, which makes me pathetic. It did save me some money, but I’ll find some other way to waste it, like paying bills or something. What I found on the net was kind of depressing. I mean, what I found besides blogs written by law students (Is there like a section of the bar where they review your blog or something?) was a whole bunch of people writing about really bad relationships. And I don’t mean funny bad relationships. Just bad relationships.

Now I will admit, I didn’t read the blogs where people were talking about how in love they are. Good relationships make for boring reading. I sure don’t write about the relationships where things were fine but just didn’t work out. Of course I haven’t really had any of those, but I wouldn’t write about them even if I did.

But all these people are writing about their bad relationships, so I have to ask myself, why are we so stupid? Is being alone so bad that we’ll but up with a crappy relationship just to avoid it?

Of course it is! Being alone sucks! I’m not going to get all sentimental though. If you have friends you can have all the communication and closeness you can imagine, but what are you going to do about booty?

I know there is always going out and picking someone up, but that can be a lot of work. You have to compete with all the other hornballs out there to just get the attention of someone worth banging. Plus you run the risk they will be a bad lay. It’s just a huge pain in the ass.

Then there’s the expense. Going out is expensive, and you have to make an investment without knowing if it’s going to be worth it. It sucks being out there buying drinks or whatever for someone, and you have to spend money before you even find someone. Granted, you are buying the drinks for yourself, but still.

And the bars you have to go to to meet people. Jesus. I hate meat markets. I know they have fine women, but it’s like a group job interview from hell. Unlike most job interviews, you don’t even know what position you are applying for though. The beer and/or tequila are a nice touch, and they would certainly make your typical job interview more interesting.

Another thing is that guys in a bar are competing for ladies. But guys competing doesn’t mix well with trying to meet women. For some reason, when we get competitive we do dumb things. In bars this consists of heavy drinking and making each other look like idiots. I don’t know why, but women don’t really seem to find either of those things attractive. At least the women worth going out with don’t find them attractive.

With all that going on, it’s no surprise that we stay with someone bad instead of facing it all again. So for those of you in a bad relationship, I encourage you to stay where you are. It’s hard out here. And it’s lonely. And, frankly, we don’t need the extra competition.

It’s Friday night and, as you can see, I am at home. I have a couple of reasons, the biggest being my son is here, and I never use a sitter for him.

Before I really get in to today’s entry, let me make one thing clear. Sandra at Sandra Is Evil is not one of the crazy ex’s I’ve been writing about. That’s just the name of her blog, and I think her blog is funny. To my knowledge, none of my ex’s has a blog. Even if they did, I wouldn’t link them because I really do want to protect their anonymity.

I have been debating what to write about today, which is one reason I’m posting this so late. I have some more stories to tell, but I really don’t want to use them just yet. I mean, even I have only so many crazy ex stories to share, and if I use them all up you won’t have anything to read about. I also have a couple of good stories from readers, but I want to save those for during the week when more people read the blogs (I suspect while they’re supposed to be working.)

So today, I am just going to wing it, and make some observations about women that will probably be gross generalizations, but what the hell.

The first one is this: If a woman tells you before your first date that she is not going to have sex with you, you have to be a total doofus not to get laid. I have talked to many people about this and it’s funny because the women all say it’s not true, and the guys that have had it happen all agree with me. In fact, a local DJ talks about it all the time after having discussed it with me.

My theory on it, and it’s just a theory, is that the women say it because having sex with you is so heavy on their minds that they have to say something, and most women would rather say they won’t sleep with you on a first date than say they plan on riding you so hard you’ll have a callous on your dick.

I have personally had 3 different women make such a claim, and all 3 had sex with me on the first date. Like most guys I’d love to think I am just so cute and charming that even though they had strong moral reservations about sex on a first date, they simply could not resist once they were alone with me. Sadly, I simply cannot believe this is true. Hell, even female friends have told me I have no game.

I have also discovered that the vast majority of women believe they are among the best in the world at giving head. Obviously, not everyone can be the best, so something is wrong there. I think this is the fault of men. There is an old saying that says the best blowjob you ever have is the last one. Most guys are just not all that tough to please when it comes to giving head. We really have very few requirements. It shouldn’t hurt, and we should cum. Most guys would prefer if you swallow. Meet those 3 requirements, and most guys will praise your technique.

Women also seem to think men are a lot more complicated than we really are. First, yes, sex is just about all we ever think about. Yes, even if we are just your friend, we have thought about having sex with you. Yes, we have noticed which of your friends are hot, and we have wondered what it would take to get you to see if she’s up for a threesome. Yes, we have noticed that your sister is hot too. When in doubt about what we are thinking, it’s best to determine if there is any way it could involve sex. If there is, you probably have us figured out.

So there you have it. No, it’s not the funniest, most insightful or wildest post, but they can’t all be golden. Besides, if they were, you’d never appreciate the really good ones.

I have to say, I am kind of surprised how many people seem to like this site. I am especially surprised how many of you ladies like it. I was worried it would seem anti-woman. I love women. I am actually pretty much anti-guy usually. Could be because, as a guy, I know what guys want.

Now, I have some bad news. I haven’t heard a word from the crazy ex mentioned in the first post in over a week. Why, you ask, is that bad news? Well, first, because she really makes it easier for me to write this stuff. Hell, nobody gives me more material than she does. Second, I was really hoping to tap that ass again. I know how stupid that sounds, but this girl is just fine. As I am not dating anyone right now, I am starting to get backed up. I don’t even have a booty call or a fuck-buddy right now, believe it or not.

I have decided that, tonight, I am going to answer some of the questions I have been asked.

1) Where do you meet these women?

This is a good question, but the answer is not that interesting. The initial crazy ex that inspired the blog was a woman I met at the pool in my sub-division. I was there with my son, and she was there with her daughter. Some of the crazy women I met online. I am not saying that all online women are crazy by any means, just the ones that like me. I used to have an online personal ad, which I don’t have anymore. I met a couple in a local chat room.

2) Why do you attract crazy women?

I have issues. Duh! It’s not so much that I attract them is that I actually date them AFTER I attract them.

3) Why have you put up with so much?

Lots of reasons. The initial crazy ex was because I actually believed I was doing a good thing to make up for having been an asshole earlier in life. Then there is the fact that I really don’t like breaking up with people. Finally, because I am a guy and these are hot women.

4) Haven’t you dated any normal women?

Well, yeah, but do you really want to hear about that?

5) Are all of these stories true?

Yes, they are, and they all happened to me. I do have some stories submitted by other people that I’ll be sharing, but if I say it happened to me, it happened to me.

6) Can you prove it?

Who are you, the FBI?

7) How many women have you slept with?

Did you read this post? I won’t answer that one for someone I am sleeping with. I’m certainly not going to tell you.

8) Where do you live?

I live in my house somewhere in the United States. That’s all I’m saying. I am trying to protect the privacy of the women I have dated, and trying to keep some of them from coming after me and killing me.

OK, so there you have it. Hopefully that answers some of your questions. If not, email me and ask whatever you want.

A couple of other things, if you have a story you want to share, send it in. I may edit it a little, but if it’s good, what the hell. Also, if you like the site, tell your friends. I like having people read what I write, or I wouldn’t be writing it. Finally, if you want to go out with me, send me your picture and a letter from a psychologist giving your current diagnosis, list of medications and your prognosis.

It’s time for a less in depth entry. I can’t use up all my stories at once or the site will get really boring real fast. So let’s go over a few things you can look for in a girlfriend to determine if she might be nuts. These are early warning signs, so I hope we can save some lives here tonight.

First, have her read this site. If she reads about the women I have dated and can’t see anything wrong in what I talk about here, you know you have a problem. Now, this is not a foolproof test by any stretch because crazy women are sometimes good at pretending they are sane for short periods. Plus, if they get the feeling this is a test, they may lie to you and pretend to be outraged at how crazy these women are. Crazy women can be very crafty.

Second, and this one I cannot stress enough, find out how many baby daddies she has. I am not saying not to date women with kids because that would just be mean. But let’s take an example. Let’s say you are dating a woman we’ll call Heather. Now Heather has a daughter, so you know there is one baby daddy. Heather tells you about her other kids and you find out she has a total of 5, and all 5 of these kids have different daddies. This is a warning sign. For some reason women who get knocked up by 4 or 5 different guys seem to have issues. I know this is hard to believe, but it is true.

A related issue is women who have kids that not only don’t live with her; they don’t live with their father either. Usually her mother is raising these kids. I am not saying there aren’t women who have their children unfairly taken as the result of a conspiracy between her mother and the courts, but it’s my experience this is pretty rare. Usually if a woman’s mother doesn’t think she’s fit to have her kids, there is a reason.

Another warning sign is her desire to move in with you after the first date. These women seem to come in 2 types. The first type actually has no place of their own and they’d really like one. I am not talking about dating homeless women, but rather women who are staying with friends or family due to some sort of crisis. The weird thing is that the crisis is always that of the people they live with, and it always goes away as soon as they have a place to live (i.e., your house).

The second type of the new roommate women seems to think that a good date is a sign of fate. These women start talking about marriage about the time you get your salad if your first date is a dinner date. By the time dessert comes you know how many kids they want and what names she has picked out.

If, by the end of your first date, you have learned about how your prospective girlfriend was abused in a previous relationship, you may want to look for the exits. I am all for openness, but when I find out that your ex beat the crap out of you before I find out what you do for a living, then you probably aren’t ready for a relationship.

If you find out that your ex was involved in any of the following, you may have a problem:
- drug dealing
- gangs
- in-patient psychiatric treatment

If your girlfriend is on a first name basis with the local cops, but she doesn’t work for the police or have a family member who works for the police, there may be a reason.

Be on the look out for odd contradictions. If her car has a W bumper sticker, but when she sees the Kerry sticker on your car she tells you about her time campaigning for the Democrats, she may be lying to you. Another example is when she tells you about her Master’s degree in History, but she is puzzled by your reference to storming the Bastille, it’s possible she has lied to you. Finally, if she tells you about her mother’s terminal cancer, but her mother doesn’t have any recollection of the illness, something may be wrong.

Last, but certainly not least, if you discover that your girlfriend has, at any point, gone out with me, I suggest you run and hide.

(Continued)
If you are just tuning in, read the last post to get up to speed. Go ahead. We’ll wait.

Anyway…

While my marriage was over, my soon to be ex was telling me to get my ass out of the house. It seems this nice woman had called her and told her we had been having an affair, and how she’d fucked my brains out. She apparently went in to some detail and my ex was not in the mood for our divorce to remain amicable after hearing it.

I got my ex to calm down for a second and explained where I had met the woman, how long we’d known each other, and that it was impossible for me to have been cheating if I hadn’t even known her when we were really married. While that kept me in the house, it didn’t exactly get me out of the doghouse.

With my ex standing there I called the nice lady back and asked her why she’d lied. As my ex listened in she explained that she wanted me to hurt, and if she could get me fucked over in the divorce, she’d be happy. That at least proved I wasn’t as evil as I had been accused of, even though it did confirm I was a total idiot.

The good news is that it did speed up my ex’s departure from the house. The bad news was I didn’t wise up quite enough.

I still had a couple of weeks left in the group, and I decided to keep going. When the leader found out what had happened he made it a point to work personally with this woman, and the changes in here were amazing. She really calmed down and there was peace for a while.

But one day she showed up at my house. She wanted to talk everything over and to apologize. I was in a generous mood, so I said that would be fine. She sat down and we talked calmly, and everything seemed to be going fine. I wasn’t coming on to her because I had seen that side once already, and I didn’t want to go through it again.

She asked to use my restroom, and I didn’t see a problem. She did ask if she could use the master bath because I have a son and his bathroom is usually about what you would expect from a little boy. Besides, it’s close to the den and maybe she just wanted a little more privacy. I didn’t see a problem there either, until she asked me to come in and help her find something.

When I got in the master bedroom she was lying naked on my bed. Now, folks, she was incredibly fine. She told me to strip down and fuck her. I was sure tempted. I really wanted to take her up on this offer. BUT, I didn’t have a condom. I mean, hell, I had been married, so I hadn’t needed one in the house for years. When I told her that she said I should run down to the convenience store and grab some.

To be honest, I really wanted to go get one, but I really didn’t want to leave this crazy woman alone in my house. She sure wasn’t going to go get one, so nothing was going to happen. That little break gave me what I needed to have time to think it through, and I just told her I couldn’t. For once I didn’t think with my dick. I knew that any breakup with this girl would be a nightmare, so there was no way I wanted to go there.

I suppose I should explain that I had learned something: she had been locked up. She wasn’t in that group just because of her divorce, she had been locked up for a couple of weeks and this was the last step of her treatment. If you ask me, she was a long way from being ready for the last step, but I digress.

I told her I knew that if we fucked, she’d see it as a promise. I wasn’t even finally divorced yet, so there was no way I should be making that kind of promise. That was all true. It was also true that this was a woman who had already thrown things at me in a group of people, so I was a little afraid she might have a better weapon than a coke next time, and less restraint if there were no witnesses.

She was not happy, but she accepted my answer and left. But, once again, she had some mood swings.

I talked to the leader of the group since he had been working with her, and he advised me not to ever talk to her again. He said it was for her own good as well as mine. I tried to do as he suggested, but she was calling so much I was going nuts. I got the phone company to install privacy functions that let me block her number. When that happened, she went to a corner gas station and made the calls from a pay phone, and now she was pissed. The voicemails were pretty amusing as I blocked the series of payphones in the area around her apartment.

Eventually she either got tired of calling me or ran out of quarters because the calls finally stopped. To this day I have no idea what happened to her. I’m curious, but not that curious.

It’s time to go back to my roots, and talk about a crazy person I dated. This one makes me look like an idiot, but don’t they all?

A couple of years ago I was going through my divorce. My ex-wife was still living in the same house as she saved up some money to get her own place. That was fine with me because we have a kid, and it was important to me to try and make things as easy on him as possible. We didn’t in any way involve each other in our personal lives, and certainly didn’t have dates coming by the house or calling.

I had been invited to go to an intensive support group, and it was really a lot of fun. Maybe not really, but it seemed like a good idea. But this was not your typical once a week thing. This was a couple of hours every day for a few weeks. Everyone really got to know each other, or at least we thought we did.

I, of course, met someone. She had recently been divorced so we related to each other pretty well. She was also pretty hot. Before long we were meeting after the meeting for coffee. Soon the coffee turned in to kisses. Before long I was going back to her place and having all sorts of fun.

The strange thing was, she didn’t want to have sex because my divorce wasn’t final yet. She did like going down on me, so I wasn’t going to complain. She was good at it, which didn’t hurt either. She didn’t even want me to reciprocate, because she said she knew if I did we’d end up screwing, and she wasn’t ready for that.

One day she asked me some of those questions that never go well. She wanted to know where I saw us going. Hell, we had known each other about 3 weeks, and I wasn’t even divorced formally yet. What do you think I was going to say? I told the truth: I couldn’t commit yet. She understood, or so she claimed.

The next day we’re in the classroom, and she came in late, and with a huge scowl on her face. Someone had decided my answer wasn’t good enough. As we went around the room talking about how our day had gone, I was dreading when things got to her. She was just shooting me daggers. When we got to her I wasn’t disappointed.

She immediately started yelling at me. As she sat there, I knew what was coming. She got up to confront me, and the leader stopped her. She sat down for a brief second, then stood up, grabbed a huge coke from the table in front of her, and threw it at me.

Now I sat there in a support group, soaking wet from coke, having just been called everything under the sun, with the whole group just hating me. I admitted I shouldn’t have been involved with her, and got to spend another couple of hours getting lectured about how awful I was, but things weren’t through yet.

On the way home my cell phone rang, and it was her, inviting me to come to her house to spend the night. Think about that for a second, she had just finished throwing a coke at me, wishing me dead and calling me the epitome of evil. I had promised not to see her again, and I intended to stand by that. She said she understood, and wished me well.

When I walked in the door to my house, there was my soon to be ex. Guess who had called and had a drastically different version of the story to tell my future ex-wife?

To be continued…

For those of you too cheap to spend $10 for the final Star Wars, I bring you the finale of the R U Serious Tales of Drunken Foolishness.

The final story again takes us back to college. In this episode we find our hero in a new dorm, with a new roommate. The new roommate felt it was time for some bonding. He was a freshman pledging a frat, and some of the other pledges had decided to head south of the border with some sorority girls. While I was not a fratboy, I knew most of the people going, and my roommate felt it was time for us to party together.

But I had a cold. Normally, that would not be a problem because I believe in the healing power of tequila. Unfortunately this invitation came very late, and I had already taken nighttime cold medicine and was headed to bed. My friends were, however, quite persuasive. I decided it would be wrong to decline their kind invitation.

Now this was a Wednesday. And Wednesday was the night of Drink and Drown. For those unfamiliar with this marketing gimmick, for the cost of a $5 cover you get admittance to the club and all you can drink. It’s all mixed drinks, and they use cheap booze, but it is still a great way to get tanked.

When we hit the club, I went straight to my drink of choice for slow drinking nights: gin and tonic. The gin was cheap and the tonic was flat, but it was still a good plan. Except the cold medicine didn’t mix well with the alcohol. I’d like to think it’s just that it was cheap booze, but I get the feeling that even good booze wouldn’t mix well with cold medicine.

I began to get drunk quickly. Not so drunk I didn’t notice the clever trick the bartenders pulled though. You see, tequila is one of those great liquors that come in both a brown and a clear version. This allows the bartenders to slyly substitute tequila for your booze of choice. In other words, my gin and tonic became tequila and tonic. For those who wonder, there is a reason nobody serves tequila and tonic.

I kept drinking anyway.

What happened after that I really don’t know. The next thing I remember was waking up at the table, which was now completely covered with empty cups, and which had a pool of vomit underneath it, and it was time to go. My friends helped me to the border, where I had to stop at the restroom. I managed to pee with little problem, but I did lean against the wall. It seems that the graffiti on that bathroom wall was water soluble, because it transferred to my forehead, which now had a Spanish obscenity printed backwards from one side to the other.

To make things worse, my roommate asked me on the ride home how many numbers I had gotten. I asked “What numbers?” It seems that the very sweet sorority girls had spent the night taking care of me, and thought I was cute. Being unconscious, I was unable to act on any of it.

First, I was wrong about not getting as many visits on weekends. BUT, I am still glad I saved that other story. The reason? I have decided to do a theme weekend. And the theme is: Stupid Drinking Stories.

Today’s stupid drinking story involves yours truly and explains why I took a 10-year respite from drinking Tequila. Understand, that Tequila was and is my hard alcohol of choice for party nights. So it took a lot for me to give it up.

I take you back again to college. Again we have decided to spend a night drinking, which we did a lot. But this time we stayed in the United States. Some friends were throwing a bonfire party out in the middle of nowhere. These were pretty common at the school I went to. Actually, pretty much every kind of party was common at the school I went to.

At this party a $5 donation got you a cup and all the beer you can drink. And there was certainly a lot of beer. I have no idea how many kegs they had, but I do know that at no point were we without a tapped keg. I have always been able to drink pretty heavily, so I spent a lot of time near the keg. I wasn’t counting how many of the 16 oz. Tumblers I drained, but based on how long I was drinking, and how quickly I typically drank, I would conservatively put the number around a dozen.

I was feeling pretty good at that point. I was nice and buzzed, but not quite to drunk. My friends and I were just having a good time. There was the typical flirting, guys giving each other shit and even some displays of testosterone as guys tried to prove who was the bigger man.

Then, it happened. A friend stood before me with a BIG bottle of Jose Cuervo. Those who knew me knew I couldn’t resist Cuervo, and this night would not be an exception. I looked my friend in the eye and asked politely if I could have a swig. As my friend handed me the bottle, he leaned in and whispered in my ear the words that would change my life for 10 years: “It’s not mine, it’s this girl next to me’s. She’s a bitch. Drink as much as you can.” (Yes, I know that is poor grammar, but that is what he said.)

I had so many reasons to do as I was told. First, it was the polite thing to do. Second, I can only assume my friend had a reason to dislike this woman, so as a friend it was my duty to respect that. There were also women present and we men seem to assume that drinking prowess is sexy. Finally, it was free Tequila.

So I grabbed this huge bottle, and started drinking. I drank and drank as long as I could. I didn’t stop because it burned. I didn’t stop because I was gagging. I only stopped when I needed to catch my breath. As you can imagine, a lot of Tequila was missing from the bottle at this point. My friend was truly impressed with my stunt, which I am still somewhat proud of because this was a man who could drink.

I thanked my friend for the Tequila and took my cup back to the beer for a chaser. I have no idea how many more beers I had, as it seems I was quite drunk at this point. It seemed like only minutes later that the party was breaking up, but that may have been due to a blackout. We all agreed to go to Village Inn for coffee and something to eat. I decided to grab a ride with another friend in is small truck.

For the record, drunk people are bad judges of how drunk other people may be.

We cruised down the dirt road at a high rate of speed. My friend was enjoying fishtailing and I really didn’t care about much. At least I didn’t until I noticed we had rolled a couple of times. I was not buckled in and, as I sat on the ceiling of the truck I turned to my friend and expressed my greatest observation of all time: ”Dude. We’re upside down.”

I crawled out the open window and started to realize I was lucky to be alive. We were alone in the middle of nowhere, late at night, with an upside down truck. Fortunately other partygoers soon arrived to rescue us. Most were amazed at the wreck and that we were alive. One person had another concern besides our wellbeing. “Dude! Where’s the keg!”

I was restrained from hitting the very considerate keg owner, we righted the truck, and on to Village Inn we went.

At Village Inn my roommate was finally able to see my condition. It seems that the combination of the alcohol and the wreck had put me in shock. The greatest debate was about whether or not I needed to go to the hospital. My ability to form coherent sentences kept me out of the hospital and I was taken home.

Back at the dorm my roommate and I found an unfortunate girl who was left outside waiting for her boyfriend. Being gentlemen, we decided to stay with her till she arrived to be sure she was safe. My roommate talked to her while I lay down and noticed the sky was moving in a most unusual way. Soon we were able to go to our room, so instead of the sky moving in a most unusual way, it was my feet moving strangely. I did make it to the third floor balcony, and leaned over the edge while my roommate fumbled with the keys, imploring me to hold on until he got the door open. I couldn’t wait that long.

In the history of vomit, few have achieved what I did. I was able to keep out balcony clean. The two under us, however, got a full load. I actually managed to almost get the doorstep on the first floor, which I have been told is physically impossible.

In the room, I went right to bed. My roommate did the same, but he also felt the need to call his girlfriend who lived in Louisiana. I remember only 2 more things from that night. The first is my roommate asking if I needed a bucket. The second is him telling his girlfriend “He just puked on my pants!”

I spent the next 3 days sick as a dog. The thought of food made me ill, and I truly felt death would be welcome. For the next 10 years, the smell of Tequila made me ill. I have since gotten over that, but what I remember of that night will be with me always.

I am so torn today. You see, lots of people read blogs at work. I am thinking of telling the tale of a woman who not only earns the title of “crazy ex” she was, in fact, institutionalized at one point. And I don’t want the people who stop by to miss that one. On the other hand, I do want to tell it. I guess I will hold off on that just because I know almost nobody will read this over the weekend.

Let me instead tell you about a guy I went to college with who epitomized “little man syndrome”.

This guy had so many things that seem to be triggers for problem kids it’s amazing he made it through. The two biggest were his height and the fact his dad was a preacher. I think we’ve all known enough of both to have an idea what I mean. Basically, this guy compensated for both of them by drinking, and when he drank he seemed to forget he was only about 5’ 4”.

This guy had an amazing girlfriend. She was absolutely gorgeous. She was smart, sweet and extremely patient. When he drank they ALWAYS fought. I heard rumors he pushed her around a couple of times, but I never saw any of that. It wouldn’t surprise me though.

The thing is, we had a lot of friends in common. Because of that we ended up at a lot of the same parties, and bars. It wasn’t usually that big a deal because you can always go to the other end of the festivities. One night that wasn’t really an option.

We went to college not far from the Mexican border, and we’d go down to border towns to drink, especially before we turned 21. It was a blast because not only could you drink, you could do it dirt-cheap. Shots of nasty tequila were a dime apiece. We’d line up our dimes across the bar and be hammered in a matter of minutes.

But people with anger problems and drinking problems are a bad mix with cheap booze. Add in the fact we were in a foreign country, and it was a disaster waiting to happen.

We’d been bar hopping for at least 3 hours, and some of our group was pretty drunk. The worst of the bunch was the little guy. As the night went on, he got drunker and started having mood swings. We decided to take a breather at a quieter club with a smaller crowd. The couples paired off, and nobody wanted to be at the table with the little guy and his girlfriend.

A thing about these border bars is that even though most of them don’t serve food, they do have saltshakers on the tables for those who like some salt with their tequila. Well, suddenly, one of the salt shakers flew across the room, bounced off our table, broke in half, and sliced open the back of my hand.

I suddenly found myself in a foreign country, blood pouring from my hand, with nothing to stop the bleeding and no way I was going to get a clean towel from the bar to stop the blood. I knew right away what had happened. In the middle of ranting at his girlfriend, the little guy had picked up and slammed down the only thing on the table: the saltshaker. Before I could go over and address the situation, I had a new problem.

After the saltshaker sliced open my hand, it flew further across the room, hitting another guy in the leg. First, this guy was drunk off his ass. Second, he was not with our group. And third, he was trying to impress the girl he was with. So, when he got hit in the leg, he looked in the direction it came from and immediately assumed the closest person in that direction had thrown it at him. That person was me.

This guy actually assumed I had broken the saltshaker, sliced open my own hand, and thrown the saltshaker at him. So now I am about to be in a fight in a foreign country, with a hand bleeding profusely.

Just as I was about to get hit, the stranger’s date called him a fucking idiot and walked off. He had to decide whether to hit me or follow her. Luckily for me, he chose to follow her. I was also lucky in that I regained my sense enough to realize that if I hit the little guy I could find myself in a Mexican jail with a bloody hand. I decided to head for the border and go home.

The few people who didn’t leave with us were witness to the dishing out of some instant karma for the little guy. His girlfriend left with us, and he stayed and kept drinking. As soon as his self appointed watchers realized they had a problem on their hands, they tried to get him heading home. He was stumbling around and bumping in to people, and every bump made him madder. As they got to the turnstile to cross the bridge at the border, he bumped into yet another group of people, and unleashed a string of curses and racial slurs. This group, however, was not the most savory group, and they weren’t impressed. So they jumped him

The little guy was beat to the ground and literally crawled across the border with this group kicking him in the ribs every few feet. He ended up with a couple of broken ribs as his trophy for the night. Made me feel a little better about the ruined shirt and the scar I still have on the back of my hand.

Dammit. Just as I was about to write tonight a friend sent me something kind of deep and philosophical. Now I’m worried I’ll lapse in to seriousness. Can’t have that!

To try to keep that from happening, here are a few short tales of my past:

About 2 years ago, right before the crazy ex, I was dating a virgin. I shit you not, this girl was a 26-year-old virgin. Now, without going in to detail as to why, I have since decided I will never again date a virgin. For the record, she was still a virgin when we broke up. Anyway, one day I was over at her place and decided to check my e-mail. When I did that I also signed in to Yahoo Messenger, and noticed a friend of mine was online. The girl decided she wanted to chat with him, so I said what the heck. This friend is the kind to be blunt at times, so he told her she should give me a blowjob. Well, she did. And, as I sat at the keyboard, she wanted me to tell him about it. I did, and he said I should spank her. I figured, what the heck, and did it. She didn’t mind the spank, but when I told her my friend told me to, she got pissed and stopped the blowjob. Apparently it’s OK for my friend to tell her to give me a blowjob, but if I spank her on his request, that’s a bad thing.

Although I have never gotten head in a movie theatre, I have gone down on a woman in a movie (The Grudge to be precise).

On two separate occasions, I have gotten involved with women who turned out to be married. Both times when they told me, they explained they were married in name only. Both times it turned out that their husbands didn’t see it that way. And, both of those couples are still married.

For some reason, some women online fall for me after they see a picture of me and chat with me a couple of times. Strangely, these are always the women I never flirt with or express any interest in. I know I’m could not possibly be that good looking, so I am guessing it seems like I am playing hard to get or something.

The craziest story I have ever been told was by a girl I used to flirt with at a job I had. She told me that her last ex had cheated on her, and she found out. She didn’t confront him though. Instead, she did the traditional “Sleep with his best friend” move. But she took it a step further. First, she videotaped it. Then, as he sat in their living room, she popped in the tape, pushed play. And sat down next to him as he watched it. For the record, I never dated this one; although her fiancé at the time tried to get me fired by saying our flirting was sexual harassment. Not me harassing her, however, but harassing the guy who worked next to her who claimed he was offended.

OK, I made it through this one OK, and was reminded of a couple of ex’s whose stories are sure to thrill and confound. I will save them for the next entry though.

OK, here’s the deal.

I had a pretty strange job a couple of years ago. I was working for a company doing financial analysis and proposals, but they didn’t really have a lot of business. Basically I spent a lot of time sitting in my office reading or messing around on the Internet. There were only four of us working in the office, and everyone pretty much kept to themselves.

Back then I had just gotten divorced and hadn’t really lived here very long, so I didn’t really know a lot of people. But, as you can tell, I generally prefer some companionship, so I had did the most obvious thing and put up a personal ad. I’m not going to go off on the whole personals thing, but trust me when I say I met some truly unique women that way.

One of the women was a rather cute young lady that was fun to talk to, but I never really thought much of it. We chatted online a few times and that was it, until one day when she got off work early.

I was sitting in my office chatting, and she suddenly asks if I want to see her webcam. I figured, “What the heck” and said yeah. The window opens up, and there she is, buck-naked. I was just kind of stunned, which is saying something. She just kept chatting and every now and then would move closer to the camera for some reason. (I am assuming at the request of some other guy she was chatting with).

My work computer was a piece of crap, and it wasn’t long before the webcam crashed the system. I rebooted and apologized for leaving. She seemed genuinely hurt that I had left without saying goodbye, but accepted my apology and again invited me to her webcam. When it opened this time she was still naked, only this time she was jacking off, stopping occasionally to type.

Expecting it would crash my system again, I closed the window and signed off.

A couple of days later she signed on again and asked if I’d like to go out. At the time I was stuck in a hotel while the roof on my house was replaced. I had been bored to death, and readily agreed. I will say it was the first time I had ever seen a woman naked before our first date.

She called me and explained she didn’t have time for dinner but wanted to know if maybe we could watch a movie at the hotel. Since I had a suite with a fireplace, this sounded like a fine idea. The date happened and went pretty much as you would expect. We watched the movie (My Big Fat Greek Wedding), had a few drinks and ended up in the bedroom.

But that’s not the point of the story. See, although we had chatted several times, at no point had I ever asked her name. So, this woman I had seen naked both on webcam and in person, a woman I had slept with, was also someone whose name I didn’t know. I can assure you, there is no good way to ask a woman her name after you have had sex.

I am declaring this page a Michael Jackson Free Zone effective immediately.

Quick updates, because I am freaking tired:

Crazy ex called and seemed to be trying to get me to send her some money because she's sick. That ain't gonna happen. I think I've donated more than enough to the cause. Besides, I have better things to do with my money, like starting small fires.

The damn kitten continues to be confused about what a litter box is, which is why she is going away tomorrow. Shit does not belong on the living room floor. I may not be the world's best housekeeper, but DAMN! No word at all from the ex that owned the kitten, so I guess I've waited a reasonable period.

I am deciding which story to tell next. So many tales...

Maybe one where I REALLY look stupid.

A good friend and I sometimes go out to strip clubs. Usually when we go out it's to watch a fight or a football game, and we hit an upscale place that has really good food. Despite my history of dating strippers, I actually never have dated a stripper I met in a club, nor one I saw dancing. Heck, I never even dated a stripper that danced at one of the clubs we go to.

But one day my friend said he had a different club he wanted to check out. Since I will try just about anything once, I said "What the heck", and off we went.

Well, when we got to the club it was a small one. The parking lot was so small. It only had 3 rows of parking. I parked in the first row, since it was pretty empty. When we walked to the door a guy at the Valet Stand (yes, they have a valet) told me I was in VIP parking, and that was $5. Given the place it was in town, I decided having my car near the valet wasn't a bad idea, even at $5.

We pay our cover and get inside and find a seat. The club is a small one, but with 3 stages. There were only about 5 customers in the place, and only 3 dancers. One of the stages wasn't running, I am guessing so they could rest and try to give some private dances.

The dancers were, um, less than stellar. At this point it just seemed like such a weird place we figured we'd hang out just to see what would happen. We were not let down.

Shortly 3 people came in. There were 2 large men looking like pimps, and a large woman looking like, well, a trashy looking large woman. The woman came over and asked me if I wanted a dance. Keep in mind, she didn't work in the club, and wasn't dressed like a dancer, or even dressed up. I said no thanks, but she wanted to sit on my lap. Not only didn't this interest me, I was concerned it might hurt. I had my legs crossed with my ankle on my knee, so she knocked my leg off to try to sit down. I was fortunate I still had my reflexes and got my other leg crossed very quickly. My friend almost spit out his beer when he saw that, and the girl, clearly offended, left me to ask him for a dance.

She managed to get in his lap and, at one point started dancing for him for no apparent reason. I was trying real hard not to laugh. Not so much because I didn't want to be mean to this large, clearly intoxicated, strange woman dancing for my friend, but because I really didn't want to get killed by the two guys she came in with.

Normal strip club etiquette is to kind of ignore dances other guys are doing, but I was torn as to what to do. It's not like this was an experience my friend was enjoying, or had even invited, so I didn't think that the rules applied. On the other hand, I had no desire to actually watch this dance anyway. So I noticed the only decent looking dancer was on the main stage, so I got up to tip her. This was primarily because I wanted to get away from this awful spectacle at our table, and because I knew my friend really was in to the dancer, so it was kind of obnoxious.

When the large dancing woman left I went back to our table, where I got blasted for both leaving my friend and for tipping the dancer. At this point I lost it and couldn't hold in my laughter any more. Luckily the two pimps didn't seem to notice, or didn't care. I am guessing they were watching their girl as she worked the room.

After a few beers I had to visit the restroom. Surprisingly, the bathroom wasn't that bad. But on the way out I noticed the following sign:

After going back to the table I told my friend he needed to go to the bathroom, and he'd see why when he got there. When he came back laughing I told him I was taking the sign before we left, which we did in short order.

Now that club is where we take certain friends who absolutely hate it. If we can get a couple drinks in them and get them in our car, they will end up there, just because we can.

1) Lending someone your car is dumb.
2) Giving them your keys with one of those mini-debit cards on the keyring is dumber
3) There is no such thing as an ex-dancer
4) If they hit you once, they will do it again
5) When, without provocation, a woman say she won’t have sex with you on a first date, you are going to get laid
6) No matter what they say, ex-husbands don’t like the guy that’s with their wife
7) Never ask or answer the question “How many people have you been with?”
8) No matter how well you clean, you will always miss something the last woman you dated left in your house
9) If they meet your parents, and your parents don’t like them, run away
10) If they meet your parents, and your parents do like them, remember, your parents do make mistakes

I also encourage you to read the following blog, especially the comments. I swear, I dated this girl.

A Thousand Wasted Hours and Days

Unless you want to get work calls on your cell all weekend, don't forget to unforward your work phone.

Today was damn near drama free. A couple of small work things, but definitely nothing worth writing about. It was really a nice change. Work and life tend to be pretty stressful lately. In fact, today was so boring I considered not writing anything, but I promised myself I would write every day regardless.

I don't want to keep harping on that one ex. I haven't mentioned everything, not by a long shot, but I think everyone has an idea what she is/was like. No reason to pile on unless it's entertaining, and none of it really is. At least right now it doesn't seem like something that would be fun to write about. Now when she contacts me again, and she will, I am sure I will be inspired to bring that stuff up again, and maybe throw in a few more fun facts.

I do have a minor dilemma. It's not funny, but what the hell. My most recent ex left her kitten here, and it is not looking like she's going to ever take the little monster. I already had a dog, and my son had his mom's former cat, so I don't want another animal. Especially one that seems to be confused about what the litter box is for and also likes to scratch anything or anyone she comes in to contact with.

What sucks is that none of the no-kill shelters will take her. I can only assume that her bad reputation precedes her. That is leaving me little option. I really don't want this thing in my house anymore. I hate to take it to the pound but, jeez, it's evil, I swear.

Man, this entry really sucks.

I can say this, the ads Google puts on this page are just twisted. How many ads for Crazy Frog ringtones does one page need?

Which Evil Criminal are You?
A Rum and Monkey crime.

Thanks Larry. That was fun.

People, I was stunned…STUNNED…to be told that my blog isn’t serious enough. I was told I need to take a stand and that what I write is stupid. So, as a result, rather than write something about a crazy ex, I have decided to discuss how the current interest rate environment, specifically the possibility of an Inverted Yield Curve, could impact various aspects of the economy, including housing markets and inventory levels. Further I will explain how the Fed’s actions appear to be politically motivated rather than based on economic theory.

Yeah, and then I’m going to shoot fireballs from a roman candle jammed up my ass.

For those who haven’t figured it out, this is not a place I plan on being serious. My life and job are serious enough. I spend most of the day dealing with money and finance. I am in a position where I deal with people spending large sums of money on real estate. I spend so much time working on financial reports I sometimes dream about nothing but numbers. Like many people I have a boss that makes me want to explore various medieval torture methods. If I want to discuss politics or take a moral stand on something, it isn’t going to be here. There’s enough of that kind of shit out there without me adding to it. So if you want or need something like that, there are plenty of places to find it.

Here you can here things like how an ex-girlfriend had such a huge problem with the truth she actually pretended to have an entire company that didn’t exist. Heck, she even lied about whom her phone carrier was because she didn’t want people to know she was on pay as you go.

You can also be privy to parts of the current internal debate as to whether I take a certain woman up on her offer of no-strings sex, even though I am pretty certain she has a boyfriend, and I would rather have a rubbing alcohol enema than ever actually date her again. But damn she is hot.

Sometimes you will get entire posts that have absolutely no real purpose other than the fact I am in a weird mood and want to share that. Sometimes those will be bizarre rants (I do that a lot). You may get something really stupid because I am bored.

Hell, sometimes I am going to write something just because I think it’s funny. And, no offense, whether you think it is funny doesn’t really matter.

And if nothing else, the good people at Google will provide you with random pictures and ads for witchcraft aids designed to help you get your boyfriend back

So, really, stop taking everything so damn seriously. If you can’t do that, that’s fine, but you won’t like what I write, so I suggest you just ignore it. I’m not going to stop just because somebody doesn’t like it, and I’m not going to change what I write because I’m not writing this for you.

This is one of the pics that comes up a lot and I just had to post it so we don't lose it.

I am not sure what this girl is doing to that large block of ice, but I think sororities are really out of control these days.

Now, what do I write about today?

I’m kind of torn because I have been sitting on a great story. But, I don’t really want to share it yet. If anyone who read this figured out whom I was, and they will, they’d also know whom the story was about and, while this person really screwed up and I have every right to be angry, I don’t really want to hurt any relationships she has with any mutual friends or acquaintances.

But it’s such an interesting story, dammit!

I also don’t want to make this any more boring that it already is, so the tales of my exciting day are out. One thing I have learned is that your job is usually only interesting to you. Don’t get me wrong, I could bitch about my boss with the best of them, and heaven knows he gave me a really good reason to be pissed off today.

There’s family, but really I only have stories about my son right now and there are 2 things you need to know:
1) I don’t do cute
2) The rule about your job usually goes double for your kids
Besides, my son is a great little kid.

I’m not dating anyone right now so the women in my life are limited to my most recent ex, the previously discussed crazy ex, my ex-wife and my mother (who I honestly don’t talk to much). There is a female friend, but really no material there and, again, mutual friends would take anything I did say as a slam, and I don’t want to hurt her or create any drama.

I guess I’ll talk about me. I don’t care if I hurt my own feelings.

I was thinking about all the crazy stories I could tell, and they all have one thing in common: I dated these women. I know I’m not sane. Never pretended I was. I tend to fall hard and fast and then, when things settle down, I realize I made a huge mistake. Surprising in a way since I was married over 9-years.

I’m a judgmental, blunt hypocritical asshole. I know it, and I usually try not to be. Most of the things I don’t like about other people I see in myself. Well, except for the whole stealing from people and lying your ass off thing. Yeah, I hold people to a high standard that I don’t measure up to. I do hate that about myself.

Damn, this is a real downer. I think we need an uplifting moment. Maybe one that will get us some good pics.

Maria Sharapova has been known to drink excessive amounts of tequila when she eats Kentucky Fried Chicken in states to the west of the Colorado River. Some experts attribute this to her tendency to beat small children with bags of uncooked pasta if they come to her home selling cookies. Another possibility is that she suffers from dementia as a result of her ill-fated romance with Sean Connery last fall.

I had assumed that the crazy ex was not interested in talking to me anymore, which wasn't really a major loss except that some of you really seem to find her amusing. I hadn't heard anything for a while, and I had even sent her a message, which she ignored.

But today my Yahoo Messenger popped up a new message from her. She apologized for not talking to me for a while and said she'd been sick. But she also said she hadn't gotten any messages from me. When I told her I had messaged her, she asked one of those questions that are very telling. She wanted to know if anyone had replied to the message.

I considered lying and saying we had talked for a long time, but instead I decided to be honest and say nobody had replied. Her response...complete silence again.

Seems to me she has a reason to believe that someone was either using her Yahoo messenger, or had been using her phone (which has Messenger installed).

Why would anyone go to the trouble to use her Messenger? I can only think of one reason: she's not single, and whomever the guy is, he doesn't trust her. I can't imagine why anyone wouldn't trust her. It's not like she has a history of theft and lying. Oh, wait. Yes she does.

When we were together I know I'd sign on to my computer and when I tried to use people search sites the auto-complete would pop-up names of her ex-boyfriends. Seems some things never change.

Part of me feels sorry for any guy she's putting the screws to. But if he is using her Messenger, he has to know what he's dealing with.

Regardless, I'm just curious what she'll say next.

Should I take the crazy woman up on her offer for wild and crazy sex?
Hell yes! Tap that ass!
What, are you crazy? No way!
You shouldn't even be talking to her you idiot.
Maybe, if she has truly changed
Current results

The image script reloads so you get different pictures. I forgot how long that takes, but it changes, so, if you are reading, be sure to check the pic every now and then and see if it changed.

I swear, I could write just about the pics that show up. When I looked at it today, it had a poster saying "My boyfriend gave me AIDS". I laughed at first, but then I remembered a lot of people are stupid, will see that pic and then think I gave someone AIDS. Then again, given the rumors people have started about me in the past, that wouldn't be a big surprise. Now, because I have typed AIDS a few times, I bet AIDS stuff shows up even more often. In that case: AIDS, AIDS, AIDS, AIDS, AIDS, AIDS, AIDS, AIDS, AIDS, AIDS, AIDS, AIDS, AIDS!

I haven't heard from the ex in a while. Last time I did get a message from her she wanted to screw when she came in to town in a couple weeks. I guess she figures she's so good in bed that if I sleep with her again at very least she'll be able to count on me to testify on her behalf. She is pretty damn hot, or was last time I saw her in early 2004. But still, I'm not going to perju