Scared Bunny

Sometimes I feel sorry for the people that hit next blog and end up here. It’s not that I think this blog sucks, because if I did I wouldn’t keep writing it. But when I see what blog they came from, it has to be a real shock. Lots of these blogs are more than just a little religious. I think it has to be a little shocking going from a discussion of the differences between the Gospels of Mark and Luke to an in-depth discussion of my dick in the depths of some chick’s ass.

By the way, I was advised by a loyal reader not to mention anal sex so much because I don’t want to be known as the anal sex guy on the Internet. I can understand that. There is a lot more to this site than just anal sex. Hell, I don’t think I’ve actually mentioned banging on a backdoor more than once or twice in the stories. But I have noticed something. The more I use the phrase anal sex, the more people forward the link and post comments. Plus, I show up on more interesting Google searches that way.

But I was also reminded that if I hope to attract women that I need to not mention it so much. In fact, one person was surprised there weren’t women flying out to see me already. I am not really surprised by that though. There seems to be an understandable fear of ending up in a story on the blog. I always remind people, the only way to end up in a story is to do something worth writing about. A typical date wouldn’t be in here because if everything goes well it’s not interesting to anybody else. Besides, I’m not really dating right now. I am coming off 2 years of roller coaster insanity and I don’t have the energy.

Dating crazy women is very tiring. You can’t let your guard down for a second. Just when you think you have them pinned down, they find some new way to freak out. Take Heather. Just when I was used to her freaking out and getting jealous, she moved on to drugs and cheating. And the one-off crazies just blindside you. You may spend less time with them than the crazy women you date seriously or even live with, but the fact it comes out of nowhere makes it like a hard right cross to the chin.

One person suggested maybe I needed a friend with benefits. On the surface this sounds like just what I need. I’d get laid but have none of the demands of a relationship. But I’ve tried that twice before. Neither time did it work.

The first time the sex was amazing, and neither of us was interested in the other as anything more. The scheduling was a pain, but I could deal with that. What sucked was that the girl was fucking bipolar when it came to us. In the course of a single day she would go back and forth from “let’s get together tonight” to “I can’t do this” four or five times. I never knew if I was cumming or going. Plus, she didn’t quite understand why I had a problem with her banging several other guys. I guess not all of us have an aversion to herpes.

The second time was a bigger mess. This time it was an ex, and I should have known better. Basically she was using the sex to be close to me because she didn’t want us to break up. I don’t know if she had me fooled or I fooled myself, but I was convinced it was working.

That is, until she called me one day after work and told me that a coworker had attacked her. She said the guy had followed her in to a back room and threw her against the wall. See, she knew that rape and assholes that attack women really fuck with me. It hadn’t occurred to me that someone would lie about something like that though. For the record, there are people that will lie about shit like that.

She probably would have gotten away with it too, but some people just really aren’t good liars. She was doing fine until she claimed she had bought a fake engagement ring to deter the guy from asking her out again. Unfortunately for her she had forgotten that she had been claiming all along that she hadn’t even noticed the guy until the night he grabbed her. To ask someone out “again”, you have to have first asked them out.

Turns out they had actually gone out at least once, and for all I know several times. He hadn’t actually attacked her, he just wasn’t happy with that she had decided not to go out with him any more. From what I understand the “assault” consisted of him calling her a bitch as they crossed paths in the hall. But she wanted me to go in to rescue mode for her, with this tragedy bringing us together.

(One thing I am very happy about is that while I have dated some serious liars, none of them were very good at it. Some made up for lack of skill with sheer audacity. Others tried the more is better approach, and lied about everything.)

So my history when it comes to friends with benefits really blows. Then again, my history with relationships in general blows, so why would this be any different.

One lame thing about dating crazy women is that they move on very quickly. I know the movies always show them as hanging around forever stalking you, but that isn’t usually the case. They seem to have this need to be in a relationship. I think that’s why so many of them seem to stay with abusive guys for so long. The abusers don’t break up with them. The guys that don’t abuse them do break up with them eventually. And as soon as they accept that this guy isn’t going to take them back they move fast to find the next one.

The fucked up thing is that, even though you don’t want them back, it’s like a kick to the balls when you find out that they found another guy. It’s not that you’re jealous. It’s that it sucks to find out how easily you can be replaced. But in these situations you CAN be easily replaced because their emotions aren’t real. They may think they are, but they aren’t. They feel, but they don’t love.

There is also this amazing urge to find the new guy and warn them to run away. My two most recent exes both have new guys and part of me wants to just grab their shoulders and scream “RUN!” but then I remember that we usually get about what we deserve, so if some guy somewhere is making a mess of his live right now, then I am just going to let him. Besides, I actually tend to be the exception for these ladies. They end up dating abusers out of habit, so chances are pretty good the guy deserves whatever he’s going to get, and then some.

I can’t live my life trying to save the world. I figure I can save my son and myself and that’s about it, and sometimes I’m not sure about saving myself.

It has also been suggested to me that the real problem isn’t that I date crazy women, it’s that I date American women, I can’t really comment on that. I only dated one foreign girl. She was British and shaved her head, so I knew she was nuts going in. Plus I think they are more thinking Latin American and Asian. Maybe even Eastern Europe, but I’m not so sure about that.

Of course, this advice didn’t come directly. It came from the good folks at AmericanWomenSuck.com. Some of the guys on their message boards are loyal readers. I don’t think they think too much of me though.

That’s all I have for tonight. I know it’s not the most entertaining thing I’ve ever written, nor the most soul searching. But it does reflect my mood tonight. So, if you’re bored, maybe tomorrow will be better.

I think I am going to start my own cult.

Just so you know, I intend to call it a cult and not a religion. I was thinking about it and, first of all, that would help weed out people who would be either too smart or too sane to let me have total control over their lives. Plus, were I ever brought up on fraud charges for bilking my followers out of millions of dollars, I could just tell the judge “Hey, I said it was a fucking cult. What did they expect?”

I haven’t quite figured out the whole canon of the cult yet, but I have decided to borrow heavily from various existing religions and cults.

First, I have decided I am in favor of the rule Elijah Mohammed set for picking brides. I think that a woman one half my age plus 7 years would be a good thing. I mean a 50-year old guy gets a 32-year old woman. That seems about right. Just about as young as he can handle without dying. Of course, that does raise the question about multiple wives because I think the rule about having a wife one half your age plus seven years needs to be in perpetuity.

Luckily, I was graced with a revelation today. You see they had some really old movie on called Brigham Young. Now, my father is a Mormon Bishop, so I know a thing or two about Brigham Young. Mostly what I know is shit dear old Dad wishes I didn’t know; like that his taking control of the church went against the prophecy of Joseph Smith. But, in the movie he had a really cool wife. He actually had twelve in the story they told, but they only showed one. Anyway, she was totally cool with him having all these wives. She didn’t have any problem with it at all.

I figured out why that is. It’s because he had 12 wives and not just one or two. If you have just a wife or two they are going to pick on you pretty harsh. I think we all know that women push their husbands around, and if you have 2 or 3 that just means they can take turns doing it. But if you get a shitload of wives like old Brigham had, they don’t have time to fuck with you because they’ll be too busy fighting with each other. I should have known this. The summers I spent working as the only guy on a staff I could have done anything and it would have been OK. The women always had so much infighting they didn’t have time to get mad at me. Hell, they were always trying to be nice to me because I was the only guy around. Even the ones that were totally not interested in me were nice to me.

So all my fears about having several wives went away totally. Plus all the women in the movie were hot, so I think hot women seem attracted to polygamy for some reason.

But the movie also made me realize something else. All the guys having shitloads of wives would be a problem, because you run out of women pretty quick. In the movie they just assumed they could keep recruiting women, but the math just doesn’t work. If you are in some place taking all the women eventually the guys are going to come after you with guns and shit. We don’t want another Waco thing here, so the rule will be that only I am allowed the multiple wives. If the other guys want a wife half their age plus seven years, with a new one every two years, they are going to have to work out a trading rotation amongst themselves.

Another good reason not to allow these guys multiple wives is that we can’t have morons like this reproducing at the alarming rate possible if they have multiple wives.

I had considered banning men altogether, but that would seriously limit the potential income from the whole cult. First off, men make more than women, so right there my mandatory 25% tithe would put a lot less cash in my pocket. (Did I mention the 25% tithe? Well, there will be 25% deducted automatically from every member’s paycheck.) Second, men mean more potential members. So, based on the math, we need male members.

We’re not going to be doing that thing where the cult leader gets to bang whomever he wants. I really can’t afford to be pissing off all the guys by banging their wives. I need them happy and comfortable so they can bring in that 35% tithe. (It just went up. I had another revelation when I stopped to take a shit.) If they are always scared that I’m screwing the misses while they are at work, they aren’t going to put in the mandatory 30 hours of overtime. So there won’t be any of that.

Besides, with these women being passed from guy to guy every 2 years, I don’t want to touch them.

The cult will allow birth control, but we are opposed to divorce. Instead, there can only be annulments. That will make the 2-year trade-in easier. Plus, with me getting a new wife every 2 years the amount I could get stuck with in alimony would be a killer. I already have a son, so I don’t personally need any more kids, so I’ll be having the holy sacrament of the vasectomy. I know I can get around alimony, but there is no getting around child support, nor would I want to. So I’ll just take care of that.

I have also determined that we will consume the sacrament of marijuana. To be honest, I am not really a smoker. I have tried it a couple of times but, like most things, it just makes me drowsy. But I realize it is very popular and anything that will attract people to the cult is a good thing. Plus, lots of stoners are upscale these days, and they can use the legal right to smoke. The rich stoner members will generate more money with their 40% tithe than just regular blue collar members.

We will have a holy communion every service. This will consist of Jaegerbombs and chicken wings, except on the high holy days when we will use Patron. There won’t be any of that pussy salt and lime shit with the tequila though. Patron is a gift from God, and is to be consumed and enjoyed on its own merits.

Which brings me to which God we will worship. I haven’t really decided that one yet. I know it needs to be someone besides the regular gods because there’s a lot of competition for followers of Allah, Jesus, Buddha and the guy with the elephant nose in India. We need someone unique. I think the Rastafarians were on to something with Haile Selassie. He had a cool enough name to make worshiping him fun (especially for the stoners), and most people didn’t really know much about him so you could pretty much make up whatever you want. I am thinking of having us worship Harpo Marx. Since he never said anything I wouldn’t have to worry about ever contradicting him. He’s been dead long enough most of my followers won’t have any idea who he was, which is good.

The last of my major revelations of the day also came from the Mormon Church. For those of you who don’t know much about the Mormons, the head of the church isn’t a regular preacher. His gig is even better than being Pope. See, the Pope delivers messages on behalf of God, but the head Mormon dude is considered a prophet. So whatever he says goes. The Pope kind of has that, but he has all the priests that just ignore him, two thousand years of tradition and the general acceptance by most people that there are no prophets anymore. So I am going to be a prophet in the Mormon sense. I don’t have a lot of baggage from all the false religions before me to worry about.

But the best part about being a Mormon prophet is that you are still allowed to have opinions that are not inspired by God. Plus, and this is the real kicker, declaring what was or wasn’t a revelation can be retroactive. So if I say that it’s going to rain Hershey Kisses on Tuesday and it doesn’t happen, that wasn’t God speaking, it was just me. Basically, you can’t hold all my mistakes against me because I’m only human. But I am also the only living voice of God, so you have to listen to me just in case God is feeling chatty that day.

There are still some more details to iron out, like what to call the cult, how to get members and what to do with the 50% tithe. I’ll be working on that. In the mean time, if you want to join your job is to spread the word to everyone you know. You can just email them the link to this post. And then, to show your devotion, you must buy and wear Scared Bunny clothing.

I have spoken.

They always say serial killers tend to be smart. After a couple of things I saw this week, I am really questioning that.

First, look at Ted Bundy. The guy was crushed by his college sweetheart. To get revenge he remakes his image, becoming some smooth playa with a future. She meets the new Ted, he gets her to fall in love, and then he dumps her. OK, it’s a shitty thing to do, but he wasn’t done yet. After that he goes on his killing spree and he decides to pick women that remind him of the chick he just dumped.

Then you have the Green River killer. When he got caught he told the cops “I wouldn’t have killed all those prostitutes if I had just killed my second wife.”

That’s why these dipshits are so stupid. I am not condoning murder, but for Christ’s sake, if you have all this rage inside triggered by someone, go kill that person. Don’t go out and kill 40+ other people that have nothing to do with it. I understand the guy that says “She broke my heart so I killed her.” And when a married guy says “I hated my wife, so I killed her.” It’s something we can all relate to.

Again, killing is wrong, but these asswipes aren’t smart enough to actually kill the person they want to hurt.

Yes, I know they’re all crazy and we can’t understand their minds, yada yada yada. But it’s just not that smart to go out there and kill random people. Chances are, you are going to get caught.

I think the cops say that serial killers tend to have above average intelligence so they look better when they catch them, and it gives them an excuse when they don’t. But look at this shit. Bundy escaped from them more than once, including one time they left him alone in a library. The cops had questioned the Green River killer several times. Sounds to me like the cops just weren’t that bright. That doesn’t make the serial killers smart; it just makes them smarter than the morons that were chasing them.

Oh, and if you look at the date and time on this post you’ll notice I am home again on a Friday night. I keep falling asleep so I thought maybe it would be a good idea to stay home and, I dunno, sleep.

I also had to abandon my dream of becoming a professional “PowerBall” player. It seems my state only offers “MegaMillions” and professional “MegaMillions” player just doesn’t sound as cool.

Oh, and I am #6 on Google when you search for "cables to her nipples". I’d like to thank all the people that made this possible. My agent. My family. God. Butt Bongo Bonanza girl…

I was asked by a reader “Can you get laid by writing a blog?”

My initial answer was no. I mean, I have never gotten laid for writing a blog so I assume that, no, I can’t get laid by writing a blog. If I could I surely would have done it by now.

But then it was pointed out to me that when he said “you” he probably didn’t mean me personally, but more a general question about guys. (I am assuming he only meant guys because we all know women can get laid simply by breathing, and with some guys even that is optional.)

So I thought I would look in to this. It has come to my attention that there are guys who have used their blogs for the purpose of getting laid. OK, I lied. I didn’t do any research. I already knew the answer to that question. In fact, I have even mentioned someone who did just that, which means this loyal reader is not a very loyal reader or he has some sort of peculiar mental condition that forces him to forget every blog entry as soon as he is finished reading it.

Normally this would be where I advise women to stay away from these tools. But, instead, I am going to address the guys.

Guys, using your blog to get laid is really stupid.

First off, we all know that after you got one girl to bang you because of your blog you are going to want more. Why do you think the chip with the slogan “No one can eat just one” is called Lays?

And these chicks probably have their own blogs, so your fling is going to be posted about. That means you can’t expect to actually get away with it when you try to nail a second chick. Then you have all this drama going on and your blog gets so buried in shitty comments you have to quit your job just to delete them all.

OK, so let’s say that you actually have enough self-control that you actually do just have the one girl. Guess what is going to happen: when you break up, and you will, there will be blog entries about how small your dick is. And all the lies you told about yourself are going to come out. And that flattering picture of yourself that you posted…well, if she has any less than flattering pictures of you they are going to be posted all over the Internet. Plus, the guys that read her blog that were all jealous because they wanted to be the guy that got her are going to pile on.

So the answer is that getting sex through your blog is kind of like eating case of Snickers bars in one sitting. You might be able to do it, and it might even be fun for a while, but it’s not a very good idea.

Now if you get a book deal, book groupies are fair game.

I really don’t have much else to say tonight, so I am going back to sleep. Just keep asking yourself: “What would Serious do?” and then do the opposite, and you’ll be fine.

Can you believe I forgot what I was going to write about? This morning, I knew. Then the whole day was insanely hectic, and I totally forgot. I do know this; I am not going to get any inspiration watching my son play Rayman 3 on his PS2.

I have decided I am going to pick some celebrity at random and once a week I'll send them all of the junk mail I get. I don’t really know why I want to do this, but I do. I think it will confuse the hell out of some poor assistant that can’t figure out why she’s getting envelopes of Albertson’s ads and ValPak coupons. I enjoy confusing people I don’t know.

I also have been thinking about what the Nation of Islam teaches about finding a wife. They say you need a woman half your age plus 7 years. Therefore, I need a 24 year old. But, in 2 years, I’ll need a 25 year old, but my bride will be 26. So I think that means you need a new wife every 2 years. That must be were the polygamy thing comes in. You have to be able to have more than one wife because you need a new one every 2 years and divorce is frowned upon. On the surface this seems like a good deal, because you keep getting wives much younger than you are. But the downside is that you end up with a lot of wives to deal with. I had enough trouble with just one wife. I guess I’ll just have to find another fringe religion.

I have also decided I am going to buy some Scared Bunny t-shirts to have to fling on stage when I go to concerts. Between the musicians with no fashion sense and the roadies that seem to wear only free t-shirts, I am sure someone will get use out of them. And then people will see the shirt, check out the site, and wonder why the fuck anyone would be wearing a shirt advertising this blog. It gets back to that confusing strangers thing.

I also want to tell everyone that doesn’t already to go check out Team Wilco. Those guys are funny as hell. They have an unnatural obsession with the Dallas Mavericks, but that’s all sequestered in their Sports section, so if you don’t want to read about them, it’s easy to avoid. But even their sports coverage has a different twist. To be blunt, these guys are about as twisted and un-PC as you can get while still remaining someone to laugh with instead of someone to laugh at. They’re covering the massive fire in Ft. Worth, which is about the only interesting thing that happened here today.

That reminds me of a story. When I was in high school chemistry, we didn’t really pay much attention in class. Our school had a really well stocked chemistry lab. And, being a guy that meant all sorts of ways to blow shit up. This was before the Internet made it possible to build a nuke from the items in your pantry, so we had to find other ways to get fun recipes. It just so happens that the book “The Anarchist Cookbook” was circulating on floppy disk at the time, so we all had copies.

That book had all sorts of fun things in it, but for us it was all about the bombs and smoke bombs. We started with smoke bombs of course, and had the school not sprung for a huge ventilation hood we would have forced evacuation many times. But before long we needed something more. That’s where explosives came to play.

First, I must give credit where credit is due. Our school sure took our chemistry education seriously. We tried out almost every recipe in the book and we never didn’t have a chemical on hand that the recipe called for.

Anyway, there was one specific explosive that got my attention. I don’t remember what it was called, but the cookbook said it was extremely unstable. Since I am also extremely unstable, this was the bomb for me. It also had one great characteristic. The ingredients could be easily divided in to two categories: crystals and liquids. So I had a great idea. I could mix all the crystals in one beaker, and all the liquids in another, and then set it off when I found a way to safely mix them. So I did. I even taped a sign to the beakers that said, “Do not mix. They will explode.”

Well, the problem with that kind of sign is that it tends to get the attention of other males. In this case, it got the attention of the chemistry teacher. (Note to female readers: We do not outgrow our inability to follow instructions, nor our enjoyment of burning things and blowing shit up.)

Anyway, the teacher was in there one weekend and saw the beakers and the sign. Naturally, being male, he wanted to see what would happen if he mixed them. The good news is that he wasn’t seriously injured, and all of the evidence that could have tied me to the explosion was destroyed. The bad news…well…those big ventilation hoods are really expensive. Luckily for me, the teacher couldn’t exactly let everyone know what happened because then he’d have to explain why we were mixing chemicals in the lab with no supervision. So the official story was, and probably still is, that various chemical experiments were accidentally knocked over and the resulting explosion was completely unforeseeable.

I also have to say that I am still having fucked up dreams. This time a friend and I were given tickets to a Mets game. This is odd since neither of us lives anywhere near New York, nor do either of us like the Mets. But we got the tickets and went to the game. The tickets, though, let us sit on the Mets bench. You would think this would be a great baseball dream, but you’d be wrong. Instead, in the dream, Howard Stern and a couple of the guys from his show joined us on the bench. We spent the rest of the dream talking to Stern, and even went to a birthday party he threw for one of his daughters. I have no idea what inspired this dream or what it meant, but it was peculiar.

For the record, Dream Howard Stern is a very nice guy.

And, I have to say something else. I watch the TV and see these commercials for text chat with hot women. Who are these fucking idiot guys that are buying this service? In the commercial they show these hot women sitting in a bar texting on their phones. Now I have known some fucked up women, as you all know, but I have never been on a date with a chick where she was having text sex with another guy on her cell.

I get the feeling these women aren’t texting on their cell phones. I get the feeling they aren’t hot. I even get the feeling they aren’t women. I just have this image of some computer somewhere generating random sex talk to any dumbass that will spend the money. I mean at least with phone sex you have a human voice so you can reasonably convince yourself there is some hot chick on the other end that just needs the money. But how do you actually convince yourself that there are hot women who actually are sitting somewhere texting you? I don’t care what anyone does with their money, and I don’t fault anyone who can get some jackass to give them money. But this shit is so stupid I just want to slap these guys.

Guys…there are porn tapes and DVD’s. Any number of web sites will show you women doing anything you can possibly imagine. There’s webcam sex, porn books, porn magazines, Penthouse Letters and, for the really twisted, Love Lines with Dr, Drew. There are sex video games and you can get a download so you can even see The Sims naked. If you want to jerk off, there’s any number of ways to get stimulated. Please don’t make me consider the possibility that there are people whose greatest turn on is having a computer send you the message “fuK me hrd bb. u mak me throb”.

It just makes me feel sad for America.

After I woke up from a much-needed nap, and ate some Sonic chicken strips, I was wasting time until I went to bed. See, I live a very exciting life. On my TV was the old movie “The Great Escape”. That’s one of those where I can’t change the channel for some reason, kind of like “Cruel Intentions”, but for very different reasons. I am very happy to know that Steve McQueen didn’t bet his bike against anal sex with one of the other prisoners, for example.

Anyway, this lady is on my screen all of the sudden, and she’s supposed to be at a Rolling Stone concert. She’s yelling that Ameriquest Mortgage is there for you whether your dream is a new home, a refinance or “even seeing the Rolling Stones”. I have to ask myself, what the fuck is wrong with the world when a concert by some really old guys is so expensive that you have to mortgage your fucking house to get tickets?

Apparently the concert ticket mortgage is a pretty big market though, because Ameriquest is an actual sponsor of the tour.

I do like the way that the Stones are so unashamed of their greed that they’ll sign up Ameriquest as a sponsor. I mean, I understand sponsors like Budweiser or something, because rock concerts are all about the booze. But when you have someone as lame as Ameriquest as your sponsor you are just telling the world “Yes, we will sell out to the top bidder, no matter who the fuck they are.”

On another note, it was pointed out to me on Ask a Pothead that I am a hypocrite. It seems that while I have a rule about not dating people going through a divorce, I have actually both dated women going through a divorce, and even dated women while I was going through a divorce. Well, no shit. Why do you think I have these rules?

Some rules we can set pretty easily. For example, I wouldn’t date a woman with a track record of killing guys after fucking them. At least I wouldn’t if I knew it before we fucked. But most rules come from experience. I don’t think there are many things here I have ever said not to do I haven’t tried, and most of them I did more than once because I am a slow learner.

Man, I started writing this in a good mood. But I swear some people just love stress. All I am going to say is that I have enough of my own stress without people inventing reasons to be stressed. It’s easy to be funny in a good mood. It’s even easy to be funny pissed off. But it is not easy to be funny when you are annoyed.

So I think I am going to rant. I am going to first confess something. I used to be in a chat room where people did shit that pissed me off. I mean certain things just really set me off. It’s not something I like about myself, but it’s true. So, after banging my head against a wall wanting it to change for me I realized that shit wasn’t going to happen. So, I quit going there. I would have preferred to be able just to not have it bug me, but that wasn’t happening.

Believe it or not, I’m not writing this about my blog. Sure there are a couple of people that like to come here and bitch that their offended, and some of them even come back every day just to see if I am still offending them (hint, that post that pissed you off is still there, so, yes, I am still offending you.). One person even made a point of going to the moderators of another board to let them know how offended she was, and that she blamed them for letting me have a link on their board.

But that really doesn’t happen much. Most people here have enough common sense that they just stop reading the first time I mention “anal sex” if they are easily offended. Hell, that’s one reason I use the phrase “anal sex” in damn near every entry. That way someone doesn’t get 3 or 4 posts in and suddenly figure out that sometimes I talk about nasty shit. I have friends that tell me they can’t read this shit some or all of the time because they just don’t want to know. That’s OK with me, really.

But some people are just looking for reasons to be offended. Here’s what I learned in just 5 minutes today:

1) Jessica Simpson is a traitor because she wants people to see the “missing footage” of her trip to Iraq, so they know how shitty things are there.
2) 5 minutes in to the new F/X show “Over There” people were offended because they didn’t like the way it portrayed our troops

That was just today. We have people trying to organize boycotts against movies they not only haven’t seen, they movies aren’t even made yet. People haven’t even seen scripts, but people are pissed because they were told by someone else that hasn’t seen the script that the movie is offensive. And I don’t mean films that are saying it’s OK to rape nuns or feed children to pigs. Just things where someone doesn’t like the political opinions of the person making the film.

Listen, I think people that do shit just to be offensive are fucking idiots, but I have a great way of handling them. If they are selling me shit, I don’t buy it. If they are people I meet in real life, I just don’t have anything to do with them. I used to try to get them to change, but I don’t bother anymore. What’s the point? They just want you pissed off.

You don’t have the right not to be offended. You have the right to keep me from shitting on your carpet. You don’t have the right to keep me from shitting on someone else’s carpet if that is what I want to do and they don’t mind. I have yet to meet anyone that was being forced at gunpoint to read a web site. I have never heard of someone being kidnapped and taken to a movie against their will. And your TV comes with a remote for a reason. How about people worry about what they do, and what their own kids do, instead of spending their whole lives finding reasons to be pissed off?

One of these people that were pissed about my blog was just a miserable person. I decided to see exactly what kind of person she was. This is absolutely not a lie. I found this person posting messages on a board actually vehemently arguing both sides of an issue. I don’t mean playing devil’s advocate. I mean hard core arguing both sides. And what was this person doing? Well, there were 2 people debating the topic that she didn’t seem to like (based on the off topic personal attacks she started with). SO because she didn’t like the people, she disagreed with them. If that meant she actually fought both sides, so be it.

See, she just wanted to be pissed off. That I don’t get. When I am pissed off I feel like shit. It keeps me awake at nights and messes with my dreams. I hate that feeling. So I avoid things like that that really piss me off. And, even worse, she wants to be pissed off and fight people in public. But she doesn’t have the balls to actually confront people. She has to fight people on the Internet because offline people don’t take her seriously. Online she can be Margaret Thatcher, Annie Oakley and Beatrix Potter all rolled in to one.

So what did I do when I saw this shit and was the brunt of one of her rampages? I ignored her. I still won’t respond to a word she says to or about me because there is not point. I’m not going to convince her to change, and I’m not going to change for her. Hell, I don’t even know her, so I sure as fuck am not going to change who I am to please her.

I don’t do flame wars. I don’t rise to the bait and argue people online. I don’t threaten people, and I don’t keep talking to people who threaten me. I don’t have to answer to anyone for what I write. As soon as someone is paying me for this shit, they can question me all they want. But, last time I checked, the price of admission for this blog was nada, so it’s not like you wasted good money to read it. And the same goes for almost every site on the net, and certainly all the sites I frequent. Nobody owes you shit, no matter how many times you ask. Accept that and you’ll be happier.

Besides, the real reason to hate Jessica Simpson is because her existence has forced us to deal with Ashlee and their father, neither of whom is hot enough to counteract their general annoyingness. And the problem with Over There wasn’t the politics, it’s that the dialog seemed to be written by an 8th grader who has been believing mommy and daddy too much when they said that he or she was really a good writer. (Sorry, but that dialog wouldn’t have cut it on a daytime soap.)

Well, this entry has bored the hell out of me. I am so bored I am about to fall asleep. If I think of anything funny I’ll do an extra entry tomorrow

It was pointed out to me I am very opinionated. No truer words have ever been said. I think what I think and I believe what I believe. So, for those of you who want to try to convince me I am wrong about something, keep in mind it may just be something I really feel strongly about, so don’t get mad when I disagree with you.

Also, I discovered that you could find my blog Googling for “30 second bunny sex” and “transvestite catalogue”. Both of those made me laugh. The transvestite one is funny because it takes you to a post about a certain person that emailed me threatening me and claiming to be more powerful than God. That person would really shit a brick if they knew that the post inspired by their email is linked to "transvestite catalogues”. The 30 second bunny sex is less exciting because it kind of seems like an insult.

I have also been getting a shitload of email and instant messages. Most of them are really great, and I appreciate them. Every now and then I get one that makes me wonder. I haven’t been scared yet though. That kind of surprises me. As I look at what people are searching for and ending up here, I kind of wonder about some of you people. I know I’m fucked up, but there are people here that seem to go beyond my level of fucked up. That’s ok though, because it has got to make things more interesting.

I have a sick confession though. I like the old Iron Chef shows where they had to deal with live animals. For some reason I just like the idea that they have to fight with the food for a while before they plate it. I liked the one where they had some kind of eel and one of the chefs soaked the eel in Sake hoping to get the fuckers drunk before they had to deal with them. I liked it when they were dealing with live fish that really fucked up the chefs with nasty spines. I even liked it when they fought with giant live octopus just because they look mean. I always wanted them to have a Kobe Beef battle and walk in to Kitchen Stadium with a couple of live cows just because I wanted to see the looks of horror on the chef’s faces (although I couldn’t have handled actually watching an episode like that.)

As I told Blog Jesus, I think they should bring back the old Japanese show and make it full contact. The American version blows. I wanna see Iron Chef Japanese sneak up on his opponent and kick the fucker in the back of the head while he’s working on a soufflé. I want a challenger to bitch slap Iron Chef Italian because that guy looks like some kind of pansy. I want to see Iron Chef Chinese fling a giant wok full of bean curd at someone. I want to see them break out the knives and go at it. But I want it in Japanese. It’s not as much fun without the sideline reporter interrupting by yelling Fuki-san every 3 minutes.

And while I’m talking about nothing in particular, I don’t care how the locals pronounce it, naming your airline Phuket Air and painting that in giant letters on the side of the plane is just stupid. I am not getting on an airline named Phuket unless I am really drunk.

Which reminds me. Who at Southwest Airlines thought that show Airline was a good idea? Here is what I have gotten out of it. The typical passenger is too drunk to fly and was forced to stay an extra night because of that. The typical employee is just looking for a reason to call the police and have your ass arrested. We all already thought of Southwest air as kind of a trailer park in the sky. Now we have the airline putting on a show that confirms out belief.

By the way, they have live crab tonight on Iron Chef. I hope those claws snap someone hard.

I talked to animal control and I finally got the shitheads there to admit what they wanted. They’ll take the kitten…for $25. So, I have a choice. I either pay $25 or let the kitten shit all over the place. I think Ima gonna spend the cash. I’ve spent more than that on carpet cleaner already.

But why, exactly, do I have to pay for them to take this cat? It’s not my cat! Legally they will treat it as mine because it’s lived here, which is why they can take it. It seems pretty fucked up though that it will only go away now if I pay to make it go away, because I fed the fucker. If I had starved it they’d have arrested me for cruelty to animals. But if I feed it suddenly it’s my responsibility. From now on I guess I’ll just be a selfish bastard. (Right now there are readers that know me saying “from now on? You’ve ALWAYS been a selfish bastard, asshole”)

If you read “Ask a Pothead” you know Chronic got a letter from a chick whose 15 year old son and his friends came home to the sight of nekkid mommy. If you want to know that story, go read it, because I’m not going to go in to detail. BUT…just when I was thinking how fucked up that whole thing was, I was reading another Internet forum where this lady was saying that when she was 8 her mom kicked her out of the den because she was in there watching Deep Throat with her 18-year old son and his friends from college. I’d include a link but the mods at the site for some reason didn’t want that kind of story on their site. (Perhaps afraid of showing up in a Google search for “watching porn with mommy”).

Because of that, I am going to put on my “Who’s to say” hat and accept the responsibility that goes with such a title. I’m to say that nobody should be watching porn with their kids. I don’t give a fuck if the kid is 18. That is some fucked up shit. If the kid is of the opposite sex, it is even more fucked up. On top of that, if your mom ever watched porn with the kids, you are no longer allowed to say you had a “traditional upbringing”. For some reason I am having trouble picturing Charles Ingalls sitting down with Half-pint and looking at some woodcarvings of anal sex. And I will add that you can’t take just any action and attribute it to “mom’s weird sense of humor”. This lacks a basic ingredient for being due to “sense of humor”: it’s not fucking funny. If something is ONLY funny to the person who did it, and ONLY funny to them because they haven’t been taking their medicine, then you need a better excuse.

I admit I am a judgmental bastard, but some things I have no problem making this kind of pronouncement on. Usually being “Who’s to say” is a more challenging role that this one.

I’ve been watching and so far nobody got attacked by the crabs. I’m kind of pissed. THIS is why they need to have it full contact. Even when they do use live ingredients sometimes nobody gets injured. In a world where the most universal source of comedy is some dumbass getting smacked in the nuts, it is clear that humor requires an injury of some sort. And the world needs more fucking laughter dammit!

And why the fuck doesn’t Microsoft recognize “dumbass” as a word?

Now, looking back on this entry, I realized I have yet to really say anything about dating, and we can’t have that. So, here you go.

In Dallas there are what we call the “two questions”.

1) What do you do?
2) What do you drive?

When you go out you get asked that all the time. I always find it funny because why would anyone so superficial assume I am going to answer those questions honestly? If you’re going to be selfish, I’m going to see it. How do you know I am telling the truth if I say I’m a heart surgeon? You gonna have me cut someone open there at the bar? And my car? Just because I claim to drive a Lexus doesn’t mean I really do. (OK, I really do, but I could be lying.) If you’re willing to fuck me because I make money, it’s safe to assume I’m willing to lie about it to get to fuck you. And you know what? In this case I am not going to have any sympathy for you if you do get played?

I dated a woman who had a good friend that inherited a shitload of money. Not “live on it for the rest of your life” money, but “buy yourself a Ferrari and pay cash” money. And that is exactly what he did. The guy was dirt poor. All the cash went in the car. He had no money for a decent home. He didn’t have a job because he was willing to live on the small income he got from the Inheritance. But the guy got laid all the time. Women heard Ferrari and inheritance, and they saw dollar signs. What he would do is either talk the lady in to going to her place, or he’d get a hotel room and make up some story about why they couldn’t go to his place.

I think the guy was a piece of shit, but I’m not feeling any sympathy with a woman that fucks a guy because she thinks he’s rich. I also don’t have much use for people who have friends that do either of those things, hence it’s someone I “once dated” and not someone I “am dating”.

So, there you have it for tonight. No real theme. Didn’t say much. Nobody was injured. But at least I didn’t kill any crustaceans for your entertainment.

First, something totally irrelevant, but funny as hell. I was going through referring sites, and someone found the site by Googling “cathouse women paid $2500”. I am the #6 site for that specific search. I can’t even come close to expressing how proud I am to know that those wanting to learn about the income of the ladies in cathouses can come here to be educated.

Anyway, I decided to go ahead and write something I had been holding on to. Some of you may have seen this posted in the comments a while back:

Sassinak said...
rus: recently i went for coffee with a gay man who turned out to be straight. it was the weirdest thing ever.

now i'm trying to figure out if that was supposed to be a date?

This has so many interesting angles for me.

First, we have the assuming that a guy is gay. Ladies, don’t assume a guy is gay. Don’t even take a guy’s word for it that he’s gay. Until you actually see him actively being gay, keep in mind that he might not be gay. Everyone thinks they have great gaydar. Unless you are gay, I’m not going to buy it. I can’t tell you the number of women I know that have had sex with their “gay” guy friends.

These stories always include one of two phrases:

1) We were really drunk…

I have been REALLY drunk many times. I have been so drunk I almost fell asleep in a strip club. I have been drunk enough the hangover lasted for days. I have never been so drunk that I forgot I was straight.

2) I was upset and he came over to comfort me…

I don’t know if gay guys do this with each other, but I know straight guys do it all the time. Lots of guys hear those sniffles over the phone and their dicks get hard. I know that is awful to say, but it’s true. I think a woman who is upset is probably easier for the guys than a woman that is drunk.

So, there is a lesson here. Don’t just make these assumptions that a guy is gay! You could be wrong and find out he really is interested in you. He could have tried to make you think he was gay to get your defenses down. He could be bi. I am not saying that these are what happens all, or even most, of the time, but it’s a possibility.

Plus, if the guy hasn’t either told you he’s gay, or actually proven he’s gay, in your presence, he may not be real happy if you tell him you think he is gay. Fair or unfair, right or wrong, that is the reality.

This is especially true if he is interested in you

Now, the question…was it supposed to be a date/

Yes. If you go out alone with a guy that is interested in you, it’s a date.

OK, that was the glib answer. So I will instead say “probably”.

If the following things happened, you were on a date.

1) He paid
2) It was planned in advance
3) He touched your hand at any point
4) You saw his dick

I will be honest that I very rarely go out with a female friend where it’s just the two of us. It has happened, but not very often. And all the cases I can think of except one, I wanted it to be a date even though it wasn’t.

That’s the other thing. We tend to like to be alone with women we are interested in. Imagine that.

So, Sassinak (If that is your real name), you were on a date.



There was also another great question on another thread:

Red Hot Sexy Papa said...
i have a lady friend who has been telling me that she is going to get married soon... it has been 5 years now. The bf is a fool and i have been telling her to leave him! Am I a bad friend?

Nah, you’re not a bad friend. He’s playing her. They talk about paying for the cow when you get the milk for free. Well, 5 year engagements are like leasing the cow. You know what they say on those radio commercials: “Why pay for the whole car when you can pay only for the part you use?”

Oops, I said “use”.

My question is this, though. Is he a fool because he’s a fool, or because if you were him you’d be married already?

In this case, I’m not passing judgment on you. The fact is, no matter what your motives may or may not be, if the guy is dicking around for 5 years he is an asswipe. He is waiting for something better to come along. I bet if he has a horrible disfiguring accident, perhaps caused by someone cutting his break lines, he’ll change his tune and want to get married real quick. He’ll guess correctly that your odds of landing a Hottie drop dramatically if your face looks like Veal Marsala.

So, there you have my answers to your questions.

In other news, I have been asked for updates on things I’ve mentioned before.

First, I have not heard a thing from Heather since she told me she had a new girlfriend. I never did get a subpoena to testify in any custody hearing. Never even heard from a lawyer. I kind of think the hearing story was a crock. I think she needed money and needed an excuse to call. For those of you completely lost right now, over on the left there is a link saying, “The story begins”. Just read that. On top of explaining who Heather is, it will make you want to read the archives because that’s where the whole story is.

Second, none of you are jerking off enough. I appreciate what is being done, especially those who have gone a step further and fantasized about me while they jerk off, but the kitten is still alive. In fact as I type this, she is tearing up a stack of work papers. She isn’t shitting on the floor now though, but only because I put a little litter box out in that room. Instead, she is shitting in the box and then, in the act of kicking litter to cover it, is kicking the litter out of the box and on to the floor. The good news is that litter encrusted shit is easier to clean up. The bad news is that it is still shit, and it is still on my carpet.

The animal control guys wanted to give my ex a chance to, in their words, “Do the right thing.” They were supposed to call her but they can’t seem to find the officer that was going to call her to find out what she said. Keep in mind they have a total of 3 officers.

But, the stuff is out of my garage, which I appreciate.

Well, I am going to go and buy myself a Scared Bunny bumper sticker.

I was sent another prospective logo and I think it looks great. Not sure if it will be the primary logo, but I think I want it on a hat.

I think I am ready to move on to things more relevant to this space.

First, I ask the ladies for their opinion on a situation. This is something that happened about 18 months ago, and for some reason popped in to my mind today. (That happens. My mind makes connections that make no sense to anybody, sometimes including myself.)

I was casually involved with a girl I hat, of course, met online. She was interested, but always had excuses why we couldn’t meet. Eventually I gave up on her, but I kept talking to her because she was nice enough and I wasn’t seeing anyone. During this time she introduced me to one of her friends.

Roll forward to New Years Eve. I had my son that year, so there was no way I was going out. I was home watching movies when the girl signs on to her instant messenger and I wish her a Happy New Year. But it turns out it wasn’t the girl I had wanted to date, it was her friend. They had one of those relationships where they had keys to each other’s houses and would just stop by and hang out even when nobody was home.

They had been at a party together and the friend had one of those “I can’t believe I’m alone” nights. She was upset and ended up wanting to talk. So we spent the next hour or so just talking. It wasn’t any big deal. We didn’t talk about anything serious. As we were saying goodnight we said maybe we should go out some time.

Now, fast-forward a couple of days. I get this nasty IM from the first girl. She had gone through the archives of her messenger and seen we’d talked. She let me know that there was no way I was ever going to go out with her now, and that she had let her friend know “what I was like”.

I reminded her she’d blown me off for a couple of months, had never gone out with me, and I had totally stopped even asking her out because she’d made it clear we were never going to be going out. As far as I was concerned we were friends, and not particularly close ones.

So here is the question, should the fact she and I had talked about going out a few months earlier, but had never actually dated, made her friends off limits? Keep in mind that the failure to actually ever go out was totally because of her hesitance.

(For the record, the answer is for curiosity only. I am not in touch with either of them.)

On another note, I have come to a serious revelation. I am in that really weird middle ground where I’m not good looking enough to have women throw themselves at me, but not ugly enough to get a mercy lay. Normally I wouldn’t have a problem with that, but I am really getting tired of trying to get God to kill this fucking kitten. Going 3 months without sex when I was married was one thing, but now I’m single dammit.

You know what, I am really not in the mood for this tonight.

I am going off topic for a special midday rant.

I took my son out to eat. In my desire to find somewhere he would eat something besides hamburgers and chicken, I took him to a cafeteria. Now, this wouldn’t be my first choice normally, but when you have a 6-year old you have to make sacrifices sometimes.

If you have ever eaten at a cafeteria on a Sunday afternoon, you know you get a lot of people straight from church. You also have people just looking for all-you-can-eat.

2 things struck me.

First, if you are so obese that you cannot stand in the all-you-can-eat line for 10 minutes without needing to sit on the benches on the side, you need to stop eating there. Seriously. Go some place where they will make you pay extra for seconds and thirds. Some place where you can’t load your tray with 2 entrees and 3 desserts. Perhaps you should have a salad, vinigrette on the side.

Second, I think the time has come for fashion police in this country.

When did it become OK to go to church looking like you just won best costume at the “Pimp and Ho Ball”. Add a foot long feather to those hats and you have the cast of “Superfly”. Some colors really do not belong on suits for men. Among these are lavender, cotton candy pink and canary yellow. I know fashion is subjective, but you shouldn’t look like you’re trying to find “dates” for the wife and daughters you brought with you.

If what I read in the news is true, it looks Like London has implemented a strong fashion law. I know they recently shot a guy for wearing a parka in July. I’m not saying I’d go that far, but the 60 year old with the acid washed black shorts, sandals and thigh high argyle socks was just begging to be shot.

After seeing all this shit I am going to have to spend thousands on therapy for my child. I fear he is scarred for life, and I expect he’ll have nightmares for weeks.

People have asked me: “Why do you say your blog is offensive?” So I thought I would explain it.

You see, when I first added the blog addy as a signature on things I posted I got some really shitty email from people who thought it was obscene, pornographic, filthy, etc. And I started to think about that. I mean, if someone is easily offended, they shouldn’t read this blog. But they wouldn’t know it’s offensive until they got here, so I added a tagline about it being offensive.

It being offensive though is kind of a running joke with me. I use words like fuck, shit, asswipe, etc., but it’s not like I am writing a letter to Penthouse. I mention sex, and even describe it where necessary to the story, but the sex isn’t graphic. I admit mentioning hard anal sex with no lube is a bit much for some people, but it’s an honest description of an actual event, so it’s not gratuitous. And, honestly, would the story have been as good had I left out that detail? If I had just said, she wanted anal sex, you’d be thinking “That’s kind of kinky for a first date.” If I added she didn’t use lube, you’d think she was a freak. But would you have really understood the insanity of the woman had I not mentioned that she not only wanted anal sex, without lube, but she wanted to be pounded like I was driving stakes to lay track for the Trans-Continental Railway?

So, I say this shit is offensive if people ask. That way, when someone says they read it and were offended, I point out only a dumbfuck would click a link marked as offensive, read the material and then write to complain it was offensive. Of course, I know that doesn’t really stop them from clicking. People love to be offended. They have got to have something to be pissed off about. So I feel I am providing a very valuable service.

Now lately I have changed what I say, because I know which places I post tend to have easily offended people reading there. I mean, if the word fuck appears on the page, I feel pretty safe in saying that their readers are Ok with the type of thing I write. And if it’s on a blog of someone that posts here, I know it’s all good. Other places I will include a warning. Of course, it really doesn’t matter much. The dipshits that like to be offended still come here, and they still complain.

On with the show.

For the first time, we have a request that I am going to honor. It comes from the guy that is my closest friend in the world. As he knows, I’d do anything for him, so when he sent me a message asking me to write about something, I couldn’t say no. Here is his topic of choice:

I have a friend, it never fails: EVERY girl he EVER gets involved with falls into HEAD/HEELS love for the rat bastard

For the record, he is talking about himself. And this statement is so true it’s not even funny.

Here is his current situation. He is single again after 11 years of marriage. His wife passed away last fall. He’s raising their kids alone now. And he has recently returned to the dating world. His new lady friend is a 6-foot tall Venezuelan beauty. She is a model. I don’t mean she looks like a model. She IS a model. Even though his Spanish is mediocre at best (sorry dude) and her English is even worse, she has fallen absolutely head over heels for him.

This isn’t the first time. He and I met in high school. We were in one of those gifted classes where they stick the smart kids that they don’t know what to do with. We weren’t the type that was good at sitting in class pretending we cared about what the teachers were teaching. We knew we weren’t going in to fields where Calculus was going to be a daily necessity. We wanted to learn, but only if we were interested. So a few hours a day they warehoused us in a class where we pretty much chose what we wanted to study. Usually that wasn’t much.

One thing we did work on though was girls. Mostly for my friend. I was pretty shy and I also spent most of high school involved in one way or another with the girl from last night’s post. My friend, well, he had better luck. I suppose it didn’t hurt that he had James Dean looks. Girls loved this guy. He was enough of a rebel to be interesting, smart as a whip and always seemed to be having a good time.

Twice he identified girls he was interested in. These would be girls who really didn’t know him from Adam. But we’d use our free periods to find a way to get the introduction. And the girls were always interested. On top of that, they always fell hard for him.

These girls were lucky that he is also generally a good guy, because a couple of them were very innocent. They always fell so hard they would do anything for him if he asked, but he never pushed anyone to do anything that wasn’t what they wanted. I’m not saying they didn’t have a good time, but he was more respectful than most guys would have been. Especially since these were always gorgeous women.

In college it kept up. When he broke-up with his last high school girlfriend, there was a never-ending line of girls after him. I’ve already mentioned one (The lost keys girl, not the back seat 3-way girl), but there were others. And, while these girls weren’t always so innocent, they still always fell for him.

The strange thing is, no matter what happened, the girls always kept on liking him. I can only think of one girl that didn’t try to keep in touch with him after they broke up, and she had a pretty serious meltdown due to a personal tragedy. That last high school girlfriend? She was still chasing him when he was married. Not hard, but every now and then she’d drop him a line. And last year I think she’d have moved to be with him if he’d expressed any interest.

The woman he ended up married to fell hard and fast too. When they met it was funny as hell though. It was kind of a friend of a friend type thing, where he’d been set-up to meet at a party. He kind of denied it, but they both were smitten. She was from out of town and visiting a cousin. When she and her cousin split up at the party, her cousin ended up home alone. That didn’t sit well with her uncle, who came to pick her up. We were convinced the guy was going to kick my friend’s ass, but he didn’t. I even walked outside with them in case he needed the old guy pulled off. (This was after a night of heavy drinking, and I wasn't in a great mood, but I really didn't want him killed by some fraked out uncle.

And through 3 more years of dating and 11 years of marriage, she stayed totally in love with him.

Some guys are just like that. Women just can’t help themselves. With my friend, women want to nurture him when he’s sick. They want to comfort him when he’s upset. And when he’s horny, they want to fuck his brains out. Luckily for the women of the world he is a relationship guy, because the swath of destruction he could cut through the female population could be devastating. I have no idea how a guy gets this kind of reaction, but he does.

I wonder if it’s because he likes going down on women for hours at a time?

I was once told by a woman that the reason I am attracted to legs, eyes and asses is because those are my best features. Was she serious or was that a come on?

I do have something to say of a semi-political nature. It was brought to my attention that my site is obscene and inappropriate. I can handle that because I know I can be pretty vulgar. But when some of those complaints come from people who think it is OK to advocate nuking millions of Muslims because a handful of Muslims are murderers, then I take offense. I totally support fighting terrorism, but mass murder is more obscene than anything I have ever said or done, regardless of the justification.

I was wondering, has anyone else noticed that the rabbit in the logo looks like he’s been snorting coke?

I was once on a plane with Louie Anderson. I have a tip for everyone. Get him in your dead pools. He looked like shit. He can’t have too many years left in him. He also loves to be the last one on the plane, so he hates it when you wait to get on, forcing to get him to get on before you do.

What the fuck is an “occasional table”, and if it’s only occasionally a table, what is it the rest of the time?

Does anyone else find it odd that in Bull Durham, Kevin Costner said he believed Oswald acted alone, but then he made JFK where he had everyone, including, but not limited to Col. Sanders, involved in the Kennedy Assassination?

And I was thinking. My history of dating crazy women goes back to my first 2 girlfriends in high school.

The first I think I mentioned. It’s not that she was crazy when we were together. She was very sweet and normal actually. But any woman that stays with a guy (not me) that driver her 5 miles in to the desert and tells her she can either fuck him or walk home has got some issues. And when they guy actually has a friend hiding on a hill so he has a witness to the deflowering, we’re talking about a real tool.

But the real craziness began a few weeks after my first girlfriend moved away. I met a girl named Sherry. I will admit I fell for her hard. And we hit it off. But I was scared to death of losing her, so I never really tried anything. I had simple logic. When she agreed to “go with me” (I was young, alright!) I could try something. She wouldn’t agree, so I didn’t try. What I didn’t know, though, was that she was waiting for me to try something to say yes.

See, this girl was looking for a “bad boy”. Her family was among the most conservative I have ever met. Her dad was an FBI agent. Her mom stayed home with the kids. They didn’t own a TV. They even lived literally in the shadow of their church. She knew I had some bad boy traits, but she wanted the whole deal. Making things worse, her dad loved me. I was always good at putting on an act for the parents.

So, for a couple of months we went out. She would say on the phone she wanted to fuck, but when we were together she intimidated me. She had decided the time had come to lose her virginity, and I wasn’t smart enough to see that. Add in the fact her dad loved me, and she needed someone else.

So she found a guy that she knew her dad would hate. First, he wasn’t that smart. I did OK in school, so he had it over me there. Second, he was going to pressure her for sex. Oddly, what I later discovered she was willing to give me, she wasn’t so willing to give this other guy. His pressuring her added to the bad boy aspect. He drank and used drugs, where as I only drank. Finally, he was Native American. In a conservative white family in that area, this was a huge deal.

So one night she told me she wanted to date other people. I wasn’t as jaded then so, while I knew it was a bad sign, I didn’t realize it meant there already was someone else…until he came up to me 10 minutes later and asked if I minded the two of them going out. That was kick to the balls.

The end result was a pattern that developed over the next year. She kept calling me, and we’d get together whenever they split up. He’d kind of stalk her, and because she and I were together, he’d get pissed. He spent the rest of his time in high school threatening to kill me, but never actually doing it.

The whole thing was comical. I still am not sure exactly what she was up to. She wouldn’t sleep with him, so they fought. One night on a church camping trip he got drunk and pressured her till she cried, with me lying next to her the whole time, and our friend Jamie physically restraining me.

Eventually, she did gave in, and then our little game ended. Of course he kept threatening to kill me, but since he never did anything that was just annoying. And her father kept inviting me to come over because he wanted me to take his daughter from this tool.

After a couple of years, including one at college, I came back to this girl asking me to get back together. Now, she had another bad boy at this point, the original having joined the Navy. The new guy was a convicted auto thief, so some things hadn’t changed. One big change was that this guy knew about me and approved. In fact they broke up so she could date me, and he thought it was wonderful.

But I had kind of wised up (A condition that later changed obviously.) She had jerked me around. She always knew I would be waiting for her when she needed me, and that was going to change. I made it pretty clear that, if we were going to go out, I wasn’t going to be pushed around anymore.

So she got mad. When I went back to school she sent me a 3-page letter telling me that she was not going to be with someone who didn’t trust her, so I needed to leave her alone. And a fourth page asking me to help her work on her first college research paper.

And so I realize now that, in fact, my attraction to messed up women and relationships goes back to essentially my childhood.

I blame Bugs Bunny and his tendency towards cross-dressing. Fucking perv.

Holy shit! Sitting here, chatting with someone, and the inspiration for tonight’s post hit me. What? You thought the rant was tonight’s post? Awww…I’m sorry.

No, I was reminded of something I have wanted to write about, which is this:

R. U. Serious’ Guide to Online Dating

OK, now, you are asking yourself, “Why should I take this guy’s advice? Isn’t he the one that had some chick he met online ask to be pounded in the ass without lube on the first date?”

Well, yes, that was me. And if you didn’t read about it, you missed it. But, let’s be honest. That story alone qualifies me to advise people on online dating. I mean, on one hand, we had the whole spectrum of issues. The lady was not all that was expected. She was a little unbalanced. There was difficulty in handling many awkward situations.

AND, the date included copious amounts of vigorous anal copulation!

When you read my blog's stories, realize most of these relationships were online in one way or another. What can I say? I have no life. So I really do have experience. It’s all ended badly, but it is experience anyway. So here are things you can do to make the online personals work for you. Well, they may not work for you, but at least you can avoid some shitty experiences.

1) Make sure you get good pics

There is a really basic rule here, and maybe the most important. Even the worst looking person has at least one angle that, in the right light, makes them look really good. So you have to get a shitload of pictures, from various angles, in different outfits, with bad lighting, and, if possible, date stamps.

This is really huge, because you don’t want to open your door and find out the person you’re going out with is really huge. I have been there. I once was fooled by a woman that I was sure had to be adorable. I mean, the lighting on the pic she had was shitty. It was a webcam, so you know those usually look bad. And the angle was weird. I was sure that this girl had to be fine. Well, she just happened to look good only from directly above, in low light, with a shitty camera.

So you need to get more than one. And if they are all from some weird angle, assume something is wrong. This also includes pictures that look like Paula Abdul did in the "Promise of a New Day" video. You know what I mean, where she looks like they ran her through Willy Wonka’s Taffy Stretching machine with Mike Tevee?

And make sure to get plenty because while it’s easy to get one or two fake pics of someone that looks better than you, it’s harder to find several of the same person. And if you can get a few of the person with the same friends, even better. I really have had women use other people’s pics, but they could never manage to find more than one or two.

Last, ignore any pics taken by professionals. If anything those are usually a good sign something is wrong. Most adults just don’t have many professional pics except maybe with their family. So lots of professional solo shots better mean the person is a model, because otherwise they either really need the help to look good or they have some sort of twisted issues where they feel the need to have lots of pictures of themselves.

2) If you are a woman, assume we didn’t read what you wrote

Typically we’re going to look to see your age, make sure you’re not a tranny and might see if you have kids. What we did was look at the pic and, if possible, if you were online at that moment, because we like instant gratification.

Ladies, we are looking for sex, and if we find a relationship, that’s a bonus. And nothing you write is going to get our motors going as good as a pic. (Well, nothing most web sites will actually let you say in your ad.) If we are reading your ad we're not looking at pics of other women, so, basically, we are wasting time.

3) If you are a guy, read what she wrote

It’s amazing how many times a woman will specifically list things that are deal breakers, like kids, tattoos, wives…

4) Don’t dick around

If you aren’t chatting in 3 days, on the phone in 5 and on a date in 10, give up. I know you want to play it safe, but until you see my eyes spinning counterclockwise, you are not going to know if I am crazy. It’s real easy to fake it on the phone and in chat. Plus, it’s harder when you have to actually conceal the meat cleaver in your clothing.

And if they aren’t saying yes, they aren’t going to. For some reason some people like online only relationships. So just bail if you aren’t making progress quickly. Just assume you were getting played and move on.

5) Until you have actually met the person, always keep your options open

Again, until you met you can safely assume there is nothing there, and you will almost always be right. You do not commit to a person that refuses to actually meet you. While you are chatting with just one person, there are other prospects being taken off the market. Plus, if someone wants you to be exclusive but isn’t ready to meet you, they are either playing you or nuts.

6) If they mention sex, even in a negative way, it’s because they want to fuck you

Remember when I said a woman who says “I am not sleeping with you on a first date” is going to sleep with you on a first date? Well, it goes beyond that. If someone is bringing up the subject of sex, they want sex. It’s not who talks about it, it’s who brings it up.

(This is a good all around rule. That married guy who tells you about his sex life with his wife who happens to want to be your best friend does it because he wants to fuck you.)

7) Movies are a shitty first date

You can’t talk and you spend the whole time trying to figure out if it’s time to make a move yet. Nuff’ said. Plus, you never know what will turn up in the bucket of popcorn when it’s in the guy’s lap.

8) Assume, until proven otherwise, that the other person is completely insane or a total player.

It just saves time.

Note: This rant is absolutely not directed at anyone that has ever read this blog or IM’d me.

Today is one of those days I really don’t want to deal with people. My stress level is off the charts and, guess what…just because I haven’t talked to YOU about the situation yet today doesn’t mean I want to go over it all again. Nothing has fucking changed. When I tell you I haven't gotten an answer yet, that should make that clear. There is no "yes". There is no "no". And, you know damn well that waiting for that answer has made my life a fucking hell.

Christ, what is it about people that they want to call you to talk about situations they know are really fucking with your head? They act like you owe them the story. News flash people. Every fucking time you relay the details of a bad story, you relive the fucking emotions. Ever notice how people tell a story about someone they love and smile? That’s because they are reliving their happiness. When they tell you about a sad story, they cry. And when they tell you about a very frightening situation, they get even more scared.

I have tried very hard to get the point across without being a dick about it, but you seem unwilling to take a fucking hint. The last 4 times you have called I have said I was busy doing something. I hate that I have to tell you I don’t want to talk to you about this anymore, but nothing short of being a dick about it seems to phase you.

So unless you are calling with a solution, follow a simple rule. If I want to talk about it, I will come to you. I have been reliving the bullshit while telling you this fucking story, with the daily updates, every night for 2 weeks, and I am fucking sick of it. Have you noticed I am not calling to talk to you about it? That’s because you are a fucking emotional vampire. You feed on other people’s misery. I know you get off the phone with me and call your friends so they will feel sorry for you for having this person in your life going through such hard times.

Not everything is about you for fuck’s sake.

But, hey, now you can say I was an asshole to you when you call all your friends.

The blog world was rocked today by the revelation that there are guys posting shit that actually use this great medium to get laid. And, based on what I have seen, women will sleep with you if you write a bad book. I mean if they’ll sleep with you over a blog, there is no doubt in my mind that they will sleep with you for a signed first edition of anything put to paper.

The even more shocking thing was the discovery that not only do Blog Hos exist, they are proud of the title. I think I may have to amend my list of “You might be dating a crazy if…” to include any woman that willingly refers to herself as a “blog ho”. I can respect sports groupies trying to get knocked up by an NBA superstar. Who wouldn’t want 21 years of 6-figure child support in exchange for one night of sex and 9 months of pregnancy? If I could I’d be trying to have some Lottery Pick’s baby right now.

But, seriously, what do you get for banging a blog superstar? Do you really want half of what we make from this piece of shit? If so, let me know. If I can get myself some amazing babe who just wants to share the bounty of my blog, I’m all over that. I hope she doesn’t quit her job to live of the Scared Bunny Fortune, because, right now, that consists of a Hershey Bar and a pair of flip-flops.

OK, so it’s not the money, although it seems a lot of male bloggers like people to think they are Mark Cuban’s secret lovechild with Leona Helmsley. So it must be the witty writing. Well hun, guess what, that is something you can never own. I will gladly write stuff for you, but the writing is mine. And, news flash, I’m going to be sharing it with several hundred other people every day too.

So the phenomenon confuses me. I mean, I like the attention, but I don’t think I have any blog hos. And if I do, please disregard the previous 4 paragraphs.

Anyway, that is not what I was going to write about. That was just what kept me amused while I dealt with all the regular bullshit that makes up my average day. You know, the work stuff I don’t write about.

What I was thinking about was the serious confusion caused by the use of the words “player”, “played” and “game”. There is this belief that, in order to be played, you have to be dealing with a player. Since we seem to associate player with male slut, people that get played assume they aren’t getting played because the guy hasn’t been laid by anyone else since the Clinton Administration. But, just because a guy is not a player doesn’t mean you’re not getting played.

See, some players have no game. As a result, they don’t get laid, and people assume they aren’t really players. Those guys have it made in one regard. They can pull their shit forever once they find someone they can successfully play. As long as there aren’t other women in the picture, some women will put up with a lot of shit. I guess they can convince themselves only cheaters are players.

So, when I’m talking to a friend I don’t say the guy is a player unless he’s a manwhore. A guy flying in chicks from around the country to fuck…that I’d call a player. (BTW, dude, if you are spending money like that just to get laid, just call a hooker. There have to be some in your town and it takes less time than the pathetic game you’ve been playing. And when you’re done they go away, which seems to be part of what you want.) But when I say the guy is playing them, they get all confused.

So, here’s the deal. I’ll let the word “player” mean manwhore since that is what everyone wants. But a guy who isn’t a player can play you. If a guy is lying to you, stringing you along, acting like he has feelings he doesn’t really have, makes promises he won’t deliver on, whatever…he is playing you. And the fact that you are the only woman that falls for his shit doesn’t make him innocent; it just means he has no game.

And, just so you know, the whole “I don’t have much experience in relationships” bullshit is a game. It basically gives us an excuse to fuck you over repeatedly. I wish like hell I had no experience in relationships if it gave me carte blanche to do and say anything. That would make my life a lot easier. “I’m sorry hun. I had no idea that women didn’t like it when we dump them to fuck someone else”. It is not your job to educate the guy. And if you choose to educate him, all the pain when he moves on is on you. Because if he really does need educated, he will eventually decide he wants a woman who won’t let him walk all over them. Or at least more of a challenge.

There is another part to this whole thing. If the same guy habitually plays you, it is your fault. I am not excusing asshole behavior, but if someone kicks me in the nuts once, they’re an ass. Twice, they’re an ass that I need to watch out for. After that, if they kick me in the nuts again I’m a fucking moron for letting them get close enough to do it. I mean it reaches a point where, when a person gets in range, you need to either run away or strike first.

I have mostly female friends (probably because of selling out the guys like I did above) and I hear the same thing a lot. They do the same thing over and over, expecting a different result eventually. Shit don’t work like that.

I knew a woman who complained she only met men who she wouldn’t date. Now, part of the problem was she had stupid rules when it came to guys. But she mostly met men who were too old for her (which meant they usually had an ex-wife and one or more kids, which were also against her rules.) So I asked her where she met these guys. She said she was part of a club and they were too. So, here is the question. If you join a club to meet guys, and the club is all guys that you won’t date, why do you keep going back there looking for guys?

So I told the girl, find some other place to meet guys. But that meant finding another place, another group, different people…and she wasn’t about to do that. So I said she had to change her rules. That was too scary. So I told her to enjoy her single life and try not to take it too hard when people called her a spinster and made fun of her living alone with her cats.

And now I have a mission for you all. As you know, I have a kitten that I want to go away. I tried to get her owner to take her. No dice. I tried no-kill shelters. Won’t even call me back. Called the pound, and they won’t take it without at least trying to get the owner to take it. Since that won’t happen, I need another plan. Then I saw this:




This works for me. See, I can’t kill the kitten. Not only is it wrong to kill, I have this karma deficit that, if it gets any worse, Satan will repossess my soul. But if God kills the kitten, my karma is intact.

So I need all of you to jerk off as much as possible. Eventually God will get the right kitten.

Thanks a ton.

This is not my entry for the night, but I wanted to post this.

I got a new logo from Gato, and I wanted to just get it posted. I've already added it to some of the merchandise if you like it.

OK, first things first. When I was going through the blogs that link to me, I came across this one, from a very sweet girl. Well, she seems sweet. Not like I really know her or anything. But she not only links to me, she even quoted me. Now, granted, she quoted me about how guys just want to get laid, but it was nice to be quoted nonetheless. I also really liked her stories. I can’t really relate to them for obvious reasons, but I did enjoy them. I even considered posting a comment, but I started to think about it and decided better of it. She’s a relatively innocent girl, so it would just be wrong if the only comments came from me.

I considered even writing this whole entry to give her advice, but I decided she deserves better than lame jokes from a guy that feels that trial and error is the only way to learn anything.

Also, the Scared Bunny actually has its own store with hats, shirts, mugs and all that shit. Now you can walk around with the little freaked out bunny on your tit. Hell, you can even get the rabbit in the pot on your panties if you want. And what better gift for that special someone? Nothing says, “You’d better not be a crazy fucker” better than scared bunny boxers. I am considering adding some gifts that are actually tailored to the people we date that we really shouldn’t, but I need good slogans first. Maybe “I lied, cheated and stole and all I got was this lousy t-shirt and a new Audi.”

And I think we’ll be spinning off a second blog before too long, but maybe not one with daily entries just because I can only write so much that makes me laugh. (Sorry, your laughing doesn’t really matter much anymore) The second blog will help deal with all of those times you and your friends are in a debate and someone trots out the old standby: “Who’s to say…” When we were in school we did what wannabe intellectuals do. We debated all sorts of shit we couldn’t possibly understand. And, eventually, it always gets down to someone saying, “Who’s to say…” (Usually that comes from the dipshit losing the argument.) We finally decided there had to be a person to make those important pronouncements, and I was fortunate enough to be elected the “who” of “who’s to say”. So, email in those dilemmas and I will settle your disputes definitively. I’ll start the thing when I have enough requests to make it worth starting.

But back to the business at hand, I also am facing a rather interesting dilemma. You see, I lay it all on the line here. I have told stories that really portray me in a bad light at times. I also reveal more about my past than most people would ever know.

So when I meet someone, if I show them the blog, they could get a really negative opinion of me, and I wouldn’t blame them. And some people read what I say about my exes and then assume I mean all women. Personally I think that anyone that really reads it will see that I don’t ever generalize about women. If I say the women I have dated have done some pretty fucked up shit, that’s because they have. That doesn’t mean women are fucked up, it means that the women I have dated are pretty fucked up. And, by and large, they are. And, as I ALWAYS say, that really reflects on me as much as them. If I attract fucked up women, that is my fault.

I don’t mind people reading this and thinking I am jaded, because I am. Anyone who wasn’t jade