Scared Bunny

I admit it. I’m psyched! There was a midget on Inked tonight. Watching a midget get a tattoo is funny dammit! A midget getting a tattoo of a pit bull seems particularly funny. It’s not the same as geriatric lesbian midget porn, but it was still good. I know it seems like a little thing, but it was a small part of what made this a good day.

Because some people still don’t understand what “Scared Bunny” means, I will explain it. In the movie Fatal Attraction, Michael Douglas and his family come home to find that their pet rabbit has been killed and is boiling in a pot on the family stove. You will sometimes hear a guy saying he is afraid she’ll “boil my bunny” when dealing with a crazy woman. So, for those who are confused, we have a bunny that is afraid of being boiled. That is why he is sitting in a pot. That and all the coke he appears to have been snorting has him acting freaky.

And if you are a crazy woman, or are afraid you may be, I have a serious tip you should pay attention to. Don’t ever react to a guy that is blowing you off by saying “I won’t be ignored” or anything along those lines. I have actually had a woman say that to me, and I was laughing my ass off. She actually said it in a chat room, as I believe I have mentioned, so others truly got to enjoy the insanity.

I am really conflicted as to whether it is better to have witnesses to the insanity. If you were to ever end up in court the witnesses could be useful, but then there are fewer people to tell the story to, because they saw it. The stories have a definite value. Usually they are the only good things that come out of the relationships to be honest. But damn they are fun to tell. Get a couple of beers in everyone and start talking about the chick that drove a nail in her own arm and you will have the next several rounds paid for.

I strongly encourage all single people to date a crazy person or two. Be careful not to get a dangerous one though, because you don’t want to end up in a hospital. It is hard to appreciate the good ones without a few bad ones though. You date crazies and you will actually learn to appreciate boring people. They are much better for settling down. Funny thing is that I have figured that out just as I have decided I have no desire to settle down for a while.

Once I get the next big deal closed I want to enjoy myself for a while, and I don’t want to have to worry about leaving someone at home or spending time working on a relationship. What I want is to have fun. If it involves women, cool. But it’s not going to be anything serious for a while. It’s time to sex my oats for a while. It’s not that I haven’t had my share of fun in the past, because I have, but I need more, and this time without being on the hunt for Ms. Right.

Anyway, on to today’s lesson, which is: Don’t get knocked up by juveniles. In this case, I am not actually referring to men who act like children, but actual children. Courtesy of BlogShares I came across this blog when the individual that writes it insisted it be removed from the game. We will set aside for a moment that it’s not like being listed hurts you. I mean, you write the shit for people to read, or you wouldn’t have it out there. So what the hell difference does it make how they find you?

Anyway, reading the blog, you will notice she writes a lot about her baby, and her husband, who happens to be 17. She, by the way, is 21. Now, based of what I saw, that whole age of consent thing may have been an issue when she got pregnant by the baby, it wasn’t I am sure that it was an issue when she had the first kid, now 2. For those keeping score at home, that means a 19-year-old woman got pregnant by a 14 or 15-year-old guy.

For those who may not be sure, this should answer the question about whether or not a 14 year old could get you pregnant. The answer is most decidedly yes. So, if you feel the need to violate the laws and screw a child, please be careful. I am just having trouble seeing the typical 15-year-old American male being a fit father. It sounds like the guy tries, but Jesus, this is just wrong.

The main reason I am actually posting this is because she really seems to hate being mentioned anywhere, which is yet another good reason NOT to blog. The most accurate thing I read was a comment “I need more meds”. This is a person that sincerely believes she is mentioned on other people’s blogs because they want people to find their blog in Google searches. I personally go on the assumption that I am about the only one that ever Googles my name, but I could be wrong. I guess I know a couple of people who did, but not enough to drive any traffic worth worrying about.

Perhaps people mention her because, I don’t know, she got pregnant TWICE by a kid that should still be in high school and not working to support a family.

Don’t think I let the boy off the hook totally though. Granted, at 14 I would expect few guys to pass up pussy, especially an older woman. At 14 it doesn’t occur to you that the woman is only sleeping with children because she needs help. But it should occur to you that they have been mentioning since about 3rd grade to wear a rubber. I know it’s embarrassing to go buy them, but that is why god put those vending machines in gas station bathrooms for Christ’s sake!

You know, a loyal reader mentioned to me that the age of consent in France is 15 ½. Of course my first response was, what the fuck is the deal with ½? Do we really expect people to figure out when that is? The average teenager can’t handle fractions in school. Fuck handling them with his or her pants around her ankles. And a reader to Chronic’s site mentioned that the age was 16 in the UK. At no point when I heard either of these things was my reaction to go buy a fucking plane ticket and find a high school though. Even legal I have no desire to bang someone that can’t buy their own smokes. And it’s not like I am accused of insanely tight morals.

So, I am urging all of you horny women to set aside what you have heard about the virility of the young boys and let them grow up before you have their babies. A good rule of thumb is that a smooth ball sack should be because they shave it, not because they haven’t grown any pubic hair yet.

And here I though it was the dirty old men we need to worry about.

Why does my broke period have to coincide with the summer TV season? I don’t mind not going out during the summer in some ways because it is too fucking hot around here anyway. That usually means any place worth going is rather hot as well. But I would at least like something entertaining when I have to watch TV. There are a couple of good things to watch, like Entourage and Starved, but Jesus the good shit is scattered. It’s sad when the best things on TV are the nights that Iron Chef has one of the violent creatures that can fight back as a theme ingredient.

Actually, that’s not fair, because I like those nights anyway.

I actually have been reduced to watching Ultimate Fighter 2, which is a good way to get you to lose all respect for the sport in general. Fuck, they have guys quitting left and right. In a sport where the whole idea is to beat the shit out of each other, these guys are quitting before they even fight. What were they thinking?

It does make it easier to write because it’s not like Big Brother or Will’s favorite show, its Never Funny In Philadelphia, are going to distract me. They make excellent background noise, and I like background noise in the house. That excludes any noise created by a telephone because the only person worth talking to is my son. Little kids are funny on the phone.

Anyway, since most of you are too smart to actually ask my advice in relationships, I have been trolling the web for something to write about. It’s always fun to give advice to a total stranger that doesn’t ask for it. It is even better when they have no idea that you are providing it to them. I have to do something because there ain’t shit going on in my life. And I am still debating a couple of stories from people I know have read the blog.

The sad thing is, nobody seems to have interesting problems. There are some people who make really good targets for potential ridicule and mockery, but that would be senselessly mean. Plus I really don’t want to start a blog war. I don’t do flame wars on the web, no matter what you may have heard. I understand that they are good for hits, but if I wanted hits I’d be doing more blog pimping.

The people in the blog world seem to be in a constant state of looking for the right guy or girl, and then they tell you about their current love. Sometimes that makes for great content, because some relationships are just such clear train wrecks that you have to wonder how the people in them don’t see it.

See, I have always seen the train wrecks coming. My problem is that I usually wait until I have incontrovertible proof because, just like you guys, I don’t trust my judgment. It is insane because I know I see the situations right, but I just don’t trust my judgment because my track record has been so bad. At some point I have to teach myself that it’s the first part of the relationship where my judgment sucks, not at the end.

But I haven’t seen any case where someone was obviously getting played in a while. In a twisted way I really wish I had because those are fun pieces to write. I must be reading the wrong blogs. Surely there are some truly fucked up relationships coming out of blogs somewhere. None of my friends are having any drama.

Now, please don’t get me wrong, there is a lot of fucked up shit out there. When you have people washing their keyboard in their shower, which is always at least a little amusing. And, of course on the same blog there was a party where they had a giant dildo fastened to the door. In short, I think this was a very disturbed young man. It was on MSN Spaces though, so I guess that is to be expected.

That site, and the dildo picture, did really give me something I need to advise you on. See, at this party, I noticed that the people had nametags on. Here is a general rule of etiquette. There should not be dildos at a party where you have to wear nametags. In general, you should keep your sex toy parties limited to people who all know each other’s names. I guess if it was an orgy or something that would be different, but if you were going to be naked anyway, why would you bother with a nametag. I doubt they stick well to bare skin, and the guys with the hairy chests are really not going to appreciate removing them if they do stick well.

This may come as a surprise, but I actually am not interested in an orgy. I am not going to say that those of you that do the group things are freaks. Well, yeah, you are. I have noticed that the people looking to swap and gang up are all more than a little off. I understand the people that are really not in to each other, but just can’t face that, but wanting to watch some other guy dick your chick is just fucked. I swear it’s just a way for the guys to se other guys’ dicks in action without having to own up to their homosexual tendencies. I think they really just need to accept that it’s their ass they wish that dick was plowing in to. Hell, maybe their girl would like to watch that. I have heard women that thought that gay porn was hot. Not as many as the guys that want to watch 2 girls go at it, but enough.

I say they just need to all let go. If they want to go be gay or bi or whatever, then they should do it. It can’t be any more embarrassing than admitting you like watching some other dude nail your wife/girlfriend. Plus, nobody ever seems to be trading up in these situations. Strangely, they all seem to be trading down. I have never really figured out how that works, but when I have seen pics of swingers it just seems every one is worse than the pic before. Even if they keep showing you the same pics over and over they seem to get worse. I once asked a friend who had been to a swinger party if it was that the ugly one’s were the only ones that allowed pics or if they were all ugly.

His answer was: “both”. I will say he never went back.

What does it mean when you have a dream that you are going to be involved in a tag team cage match at Wrestlemania involving Hulk Hogan, and if minutes before the match they still haven’t worked out the script? Does it mean anything different if you don’t actually watch wrestling?

In the comments recently there was someone who said my obsession with Heather was a sign I was the crazy one. The thing is, that operates on a very false assumption; that only one of us is crazy. I am assuming this person hasn’t read much here because I have said many times I am convinced I am insane. You don’t end up with the string of nuts I have ended up with if you are sane. Most people would never put up with as much shit as I did. I am embarrassed that she hit me on more than one occasion. The night she got arrested the cops actually urged me not only to get a restraining order, one of them encouraged me to get a gun. They knew what kind of ugly mess I was dealing with.

But what I am obsessed with isn’t her. It’s what happened and what I became. Imagine this. I was so stressed that I went from 215 pounds to just over 180. I had no appetite. Most of the time when I did eat I would puke afterwards because I was always nervous. Even though I have always had sleep problems, with her I could never sleep. I was too scared to really relax. It’s hard to just let go when you don’t understand how you let yourself get so in to a woman that treated you so bad. She had me scared of losing her, but what the hell did I have to be worried about losing?

One thing I realize is that this is one of those relationships that shape the rest of your life, whether I like it or not. In many ways being with her shaped me more than being married for 10 years. It was certainly more intense.

Yet, at the same time, she also shaped me in some good ways. She was the one that really opened me up sexually. My marriage was a real dud when it came to sex, and I thought I was bad. Heather, being crazy, really got me to loosen up and I did get better because of her. That is a hard fact to accept too. It’s easier to villanize her and focus on the negative than to credit her with helping me know myself better.

The real hard part about that kind of life-changing relationship is that everyone after is compared to that person. You really don’t want to, but you also are really wary of ending up with someone like that again. In my case it hasn’t really helped that, while nobody has come close to being Heather, I have made some real bad choices regardless.

Plus, and this is something that I think was totally missed. I think about her because I expect her to try to get back in my life. When she did contact me again it wasn’t really unexpected. I have said many times to many people that I fully expect to come home some day and find her waiting on my porch. When she called she said she assumed I had left Fort Worth because she had been by the house but it didn’t look like I lived there. I am guessing my new car, which she doesn’t know about, threw her off. Now, stop and think about that for a second. Just months ago she was actually at my house. I am assuming I was dating my last ex at the time based on what she said.

That’s the other thing…if I am dating anyone and she does reappear, this crazy ass bitch is going to make her presence felt in a very bad way. It is just her nature. And, unfortunately, just moving isn’t an option at the moment. And odds are good that I will always have the kind of job where you can Google my name and immediately have a way to get in touch with me. Honestly, if I didn’t have a son I’d change my name. Well, maybe not. Explaining that to employers and clients would be a little awkward to say the least.

But I better get all this shit sorted out soon. See, the tight money situation is about to be rectified. Then I have no excuse for not going out except when I have my son. I do think I am going to keep my pattern of pretty much hanging out in Dallas instead of Ft. Worth. Dallas women have a pretty bad reputation, and if you are in certain bars heaven knows that the reputation is well deserved. But, it’s not like the women on this side of the metroplex have been good for me.

More importantly, when it comes to Dallas women, I am geographically undesirable. That makes me off the market from a relationship standpoint. That is exactly what I want. I don’t want to really date anyone in anyway that might possibly be considered serious. I will admit that there is a distinct possibility that I will be engaging in casual sex given the opportunity.

I actually favor casual sex though, because I don’t think I look good wearing a cummerbund.

There is one really big problem when dealing with crazy women (and I guess crazy men) in the digital age. The common sense thing to do, so you don’t have to deal with their bullshit, is to block their email address. It’s simple enough, of course. All you have to do is set up a filter in your email program and the messages get deleted from the server without you ever seeing them. That is great because then you don’t have to deal with their mind games and their attempts to fuck with your head. That is, by far the best way to handle it because, no matter what anyone says, these people usually have a way to get to you. If they didn’t they wouldn’t have ever gotten in in the first place.

But, unfortunately, doing this leaves you without one vital piece of information. You don’t know if they are still at it. Right now, for example, there is a certain person I have a feeling is trying to torture me by email, but I have her blocked. I did this after one truly pathetic and desperate effort to try to hurt me. So now I don’t know if she still has me in her crosshairs, or if she has moved on to another target. Of course getting no reaction from me has got to assist in getting her to move on, I hope.

But some people don’t stop just because they don’t get a reaction. For some it enrages them. They keep upping the ante until they have finally gone to an extreme that you and I cannot even imagine considering. I have known women who would strike out at anything they saw that was symbolic of you to them. These are the type that will key your car or slash your tires. In this case I am not concerned about that kind of direct action just because geography prevents it, but that doesn’t mean she won’t find a way to lash out.

Others are a problem because, while they may stop what they are doing, they never really give up. The classic case of this from my life is, as is often the case, Heather. After we broke up (i.e. The night she tried to have me arrested and tried to steal my car.) she didn’t contact me for a while. That lasted about 4 months when, suddenly, my phone rang. See, she wanted something. I never found out what that was, but she started to call me. My reaction was to change my number. Then, of course, she tracked me down again. This time I haven’t been able to change my number because it is a work number easily available on the Internet. But she has once again stopped calling. I have no doubt, however, that the time will come when she will try again.

So that is the dilemma. When you don’t know what kind of nut you are dealing with, do you leave the lines of communication open so you know what you are dealing with, but run the risk of being hurt or upset, or do you cut them off and hope you have the type that just moves on when they find someone else?

What really sucks is that this situation actually has a great story that goes along with it. This woman was truly nuts and I actually violated a rule I have to get involved with her at all. But I came to my senses very quickly when something showed me that I was wrong to break the rule (something directly related to why I have the rule to begin with). So I have yet another story, but she also reads this thing. So if I was to tell her story, and I am still in her head, that would totally trigger her.

I hate having these few stories that I can’t tell you though. They are fun. But I have my sanity to deal with too. I know that there are a couple of them reading this just to see if I mention them. And unlike the one that commented that she was flattered that I mentioned her, they will absolutely go off, even though I wouldn’t say anything that identified them. I am cutting drama off at the knees right now, and telling these stories would prolong the drama.

It’s kind of like a rehab program for me. I can’t say there are 12 steps, because I have no idea how many steps there are. All I know is that one of the steps is to wean myself off the drama. It’s weird because I hate it, but I am also used to it now. I think I am naturally drawn to it. So until I don’t find myself just naturally ending up with these crazy women, I have to just end it at the first sign of insanity.

That causes a problem though. According to my male readers there is no such thing as a sane woman.

I am not sure that’s true though. I have known some that seemed sane, but I haven’t ever dated any of them. My theory is that I have the stink of crazy on me, so I have to get rid of it. That is one reason I have been taking a break. I have also been showering twice a day, just in case. I don’t think it has helped though because I still have the occasional crazy woman after me. Now they just find me in a new way, and they email me. Most of the email I get is pretty nice, but every now and then I get something scary. Makes me real glad I don’t put my real name on this fucker.

I will say that I have rethought telling women about the blog when I start even considering dating them, though. That way, if it ends quickly and I find out they are nuts right off the bat, I will be able to share the story with you.

OK, I finally broke down and started a second blog. This Is A Cult is up and running. Now I haven’t added much yet, but it does have all the old cult related posts. The site doesn’t look great, and I really don’t feel like putting effort in to it right now. But I do know that what people wanted from this blog was basically dating and relationship stuff, so I’ll try to remember to put the other stuff in the other blog. No guarantees though. I have started my planned Alzheimer’s, so I am very forgetful.

The hard part is coming up with relationship and dating stuff for this space every day. I only have so many stories, and I don’t think of other stuff to write about like that every day. To be honest I am not really thinking much about dating or relationships right now. I am, however, thinking an awful lot about sex. It has been said that a preoccupation with sex is caused by a lack of occupation with sex. That is totally what I am going through.

I swear that everything reminds me of sex. Tonight the movie The Grudge is on HBO. Those that pay attention know the history of that movie for me. I have actually seen it in a theater. Of course, I missed part of it because we went to the back row, I pulled her jeans off and I went down on her during the movie. So now it comes on and I start thinking about how that is the most she and I ever did. Now we did do it more than once (only once in a theater), but I kind of think that movie owes me some sex. I plan on calling Sarah Michelle Gellar and letting her know that later tonight. She seems like a nice girl, I am sure she will do the right thing.

I also have (and I have hesitated admitting this) that dumb ass cat here still, so that would be the only pussy from that relationship. I am not saying I want to get back together with her, but I do think that putting up with this little piece of shit should be worth a little something. I could have taken the little shit to the pound, but I didn’t. Granted I didn’t not out of generosity or any sort of concern for animal welfare. I did it because it pisses me off that getting rid of a cat that isn’t even mine would cost me $25. I keep hoping maybe she will call and ask for it, but I know she won’t. I wouldn’t even expect a courtesy fuck for it, but I wouldn’t turn it down.

Then it rained. Rain always makes me horny. Part of that could be because I have Dish Network and the fucker seems to go out every time it rains, so I get bored, and when I get bored I get horny. There’s also the amazing sex I had with Cindy in my old 4-Runner during a massive rainstorm. Of course, she will always remind me of amazing sex.

After my ex-wife picked up my son this morning I was kind of shamed in to doing some cleaning. With a dog and a cat shedding, there is always pet hair to clean up. And of course there are dishes. And working here means I have lots of work related stuff to clean up. I started thinking about how nice it would be to have a cleaning lady. You know, every other place I ever worked had a cleaning lady. Of course, none of them were in my house. That got me thinking about my first real job out of college. We had a cleaning lady, and she wasn’t much to look at. But Darlene… That is the one time I really wanted to bang a woman I worked with on the boss’ desk. Damn this girl was fine. She had a fiancé, but that didn’t keep me from imagining. I think he would have shot me though.

And when I sit down to watch TV, what the fuck do I see? The TV turns on and there is Molly Ringwald in The Pick Up Artist. Personally, I think that movie sucks, so I didn’t watch it, but Molly bears a very striking resemblance to my first real girlfriend, Sherry. Talk about a reminder of sexual frustration. She is one woman I really regret not sleeping with. Granted, we were both kids, but that is one of those things where you really wish you knew then what you know now.



So instead I watched Cops…and they were here in Ft. Worth. I could take this moment to comment about how Ft. Worth and Albuquerque, two of my places of residence, seem to have the most interesting shows if you like the funny stuff. I will pass on that though and instead focus on what that reminded me of: Heather.

First, I was watching the cops wondering if any of them were among the small army of police they sent to the bar when Heather hit me and then tried to have me arrested. I didn’t recognize any of them, but I was pretty drunk that night. Besides, there were only 2 I paid any attention to. Those would be the young cop that believed that, despite the red welt destined to become a black eye on me, with no marks at all on Heather, she must be the one telling the truth. The other was the Sergeant that pointed out to the young cop that the evidence supported my story and not Heather’s.

Then I noticed how the cops always seemed to know the people they were dealing with. That was funny until I realized that, courtesy of Heather, there are some cops here that know me by name now. It used to be that the only cops I knew were friends of the family or friends of friends. Now I have the cops that came the night Heather hit me and I wised up and made her leave. I have the cops from the night I saw her after that and her mother called them because she was worried that in my pain I would do something stupid. There are the cops from the time her psycho ex got my number and threatened to kill her, me, her kids, my kids and I think the Pope. Being that this is a small town that pretty much means I know the whole fucking police force.

That kind of ended the whole focus on sex. There was no pussy worth all that shit. That is saying a lot, because she was that good and that cute.

I have wondered for a long time why it seems like there is less female nudity in movies than there used to be. I am of course only counting major movies, not the soft-core crap they show on Skinemax at night. That stuff doesn’t count because if the only thing you aren’t showing is penetration, you basically are just making bad porn. When I was a kid there were the Porkies movies. They had whole shower rooms full of naked women. It seemed like every movie was rated R, and there were scenes designed just to show full frontal female nudity. There is a lot more dick being shown now, but it seems like a lot less bush.

I realized tonight the reason is because there is less bush to show. I was watching Trainspotting last night and they had a naked chick with more hair between her legs than I have on my head. There have been some other old movies on lately, and they too had women that looked like they had a young Michael Jackson in a leg lock around his neck. These women not only weren’t shaved, I don’t think it had even occurred to them to trim. I bet they had to buy their panties a size larger just to hold all that hair.

But the reason they are showing less full frontal nudity now is because the shaved women just look more naked. I can’t think of a better way to explain it than that. You would think that pubic hair would draw your eyes to the region, and maybe it does, but the women without it just look like they are showing more, even if they really aren’t. That of course leaves me torn on the whole subject. On one hand, I am in favor of shaving because I really am not a fan of flossing during oral sex. Before is fine. After is fine. But during, no. But I am also in favor of full frontal nudity in mainstream movies. I don’t like the fact that it seems the only naked people in movies are guys. If I want to see a dick I will just take off my own pants.

Now I could be wrong about whey there is less nudity. I could even be imagining less nudity. It is possible in fact that I have hallucinated the last 20 years. I remember that we used to rent movies that were rated R and pause the naked parts when I was a kid. Hell, we would make sure to rent movies that we could watch before mom and dad went to bed, and movies for after they went to bed. Back then things didn’t pause as well as they do now either, because this wasn’t DVD. Sometimes we’d have to keep repausing just to get a decent shot. It didn’t help that I grew up in the kind of family where the nastiest thing my parents let in the house was the lingerie section of the Sears catalog.

That repressed upbringing is probably why I grew up the way I did. That is to say, my life has been the exact opposite of how I was raised. I did manage to stay away from drugs, but my parents never really mentioned them. I am guessing that if they had I would have probably given them a whirl. But my parents didn’t start drinking in the house until after I had been drinking behind their back for a couple of years. Even then all they drank was lame ass wine coolers. They were really opposed to nasty shit, and while they never talked about sex, they always disapproved of anything sexual. So, of course, I am some kind of male slut who likes freaky anal sex.

There is a lesson there for parents. I don’t really know what it is, but I do know that if you raise a kid like I was raised you will end up with someone that has no lube anal sex on first dates with some crazy chick that scares him to death, and who drinks enough tequila in one night to make margaritas for the entire graduating class of his high school.

I think I am going to send an email to Heather. (Again, for those just tuning in, click here to get an idea who Heather is.) Knowing she is in another state for some reason makes me feel safe that she can’t really mess with me. But it was kind of fun talking to her. It’s not that she is particularly bright, but she is, without question, interesting. She is always up to something, and it’s fun to try to figure out what that is. I also like hearing her mention other people that I know she is royally scamming even as she lies about the nature of their relationship.

I also want to find out what the deal is with the custody case, if there really is one. I don’t want the eventual summons to be a surprise. Plus, and I can’t remember if I mentioned this, I have a compelling reason to not just tell her to fuck off. It is in my best interests that the father of her little girl think I would testify. That gives me a chance at getting the $3k the bastard owes me. His father would have to pay him, but since his father housed the escaped felon the son brought down here to fuck with me, I really don’t care if he’s where the money comes from. I could always use the cash.

One thing I could do with the money is hit Vegas. My friend Justin and I are thinking of meeting up there. We have never been there together as single guys, could be an interesting trip. I also haven’t been his wingman since college, and nobody even thought of the term wingman back then. I wouldn’t mind hanging with him just to figure out how the fuck the guy does it. I know he’s good looking, but damn, his skills go beyond even his looks. As I have said before, it could be that he is known for going down for hours at a time, but how the hell do the women know this?

That reminds me. Next week on 20/20 they are going to expose those guys that teach other men how to score, and supposedly teach women how not to fall for them. That has got to be the dumbest thing I have ever heard. If you don’t want to get seduced, don’t sleep with guys right after meeting them. There is no way most guys can keep up an act for very long. Now, if you do sleep with them that is fine. I sure have no problem with people falling in to bed quickly. But if that happens, don’t bitch about whatever lines or games the guy used, because if you fuck someone that fast, you were taking a chance and you knew it. If you didn’t know it I certainly hope you don’t have kids because you are too stupid to reproduce.

I am not saying I condone lying to get a woman in bed, but I also kind of assume that just about anything said to pick someone up has a better than even chance of being bullshit. So if I fall for the bullshit, and I have, that is my own fucking fault. It’s not like people lying to someone they just met is some new fad. I swear that Adam told Eve that they had to walk around the Garden of Eden because his Porsche was in the shop. That’s OK though, because Eve may have told Adam that God had just made her yesterday, but I bet she’d been around the Garden a few times.

Now, if you all will excuse me, I have to go have my liver removed to fight this cancer because I leave for Iraq next week. I am being personally assigned to track down and kill Osama bin Laden.

Before I get started I should mention something I have neglected to actually mention. I kind of assumed people would just notice, but not everyone has, so here’s the news. I have enabled non-Blogger member comments. It could change if we have stupid assholes, or I might switch to Haloscan comments.

Now, just so you know, none of this has had anything to do with spam. I actually find spam comments on a blog pretty funny. I know most of it is just people pimping their blog, but you have to wonder about someone pimping a blog they claim is excellent for small business, internet marketing or something like that. Mainly I wonder when they pimp it by making a comment that makes it pretty clear they didn’t read the blog they posted on.

See, I actually am in business, and I have to do more than just a little marketing myself, and the first thing you know is that you have to know who you are marketing to, and what they want. The reason most of us write this shit is because we want someone to read it. So, if you make a comment that tells me you didn’t read what I wrote, why the fuck would I be interested in your web site? You broke rule number one. You didn’t give me what I want. So, I am not giving you what you want.

But, I am going to leave the comments. I am going to do this because I want people that read the comments on the blog to go to your site and leave shitty ass comments for you. I know that is not what you want. In fact, I know you would rather get no comments than get a comment telling you how you and your spamming suck goat balls on a hot Sunday afternoon. Nobody likes being told something they worked on is worse than day old shit from a great dane that has been force-fed a 12-pack of Taco Bell gorditas.

I also was thinking about this girl I dated shortly after the divorce. First, a little background.

In the divorce, I got the house. My ex didn’t want it and I didn’t want to lose my home at the same time I was losing my marriage. Plus, my son had friends here and I wanted a little stability for him. Of course this caused problems in the neighborhood among the wives who assumed I wouldn’t let my ex have the house, but that is a different story.

Now this house has 2 living areas, and half of the furniture had left. I wasn’t in a position to buy a bunch of furniture for a room I never use, so the living room (now the game room) was totally unfurnished. For those who are unaware of it, when the front room in your house is empty, that does not make a good first impression. So when this young lady came over she was a little unimpressed. OK, she was incredibly unimpressed. And the next time we talked she said I was just too unsettled to be involved with her.

I wasn’t happy, but I understood. She was making assumptions, but there was a lot going on too. The divorce was filed, but it was moving slowly. We had been split a while, so we were divorced as far as we were concerned, but the state hadn’t caught up.

I really liked this girl though. She was just insanely cute. Plus, she was smart as a whip. She’d gone back to get a Bachelors in Accounting, and had already been accepted to a well-respected MBA program. This was the kind of woman I wanted to be with. And we did get along, so we kept talking and would sometimes play online pool when one or both of us was bored. I figured I still had a shot, and she started to warm up. Unfortunately, other forces intervened.

I was sitting at my desk at the job I had at the time, and my phone rang. It was my mother. For the record, when my mother calls it usually annoys me. But this time it was important. I had forgotten to give the alarm company my new work number, so they called a back-up number (my parents) to tell them there was a burglar alarm going off at the house. Since I live alone, this was a problem. They told me the police had been called, and I raced home.

When I got there the back door was open, but nothing was missing. There was one problem though. My laptop was open and I was pretty sure I had closed it when I left for work. I called the police and they said they had been by the house and confirmed it was secure. That was a shock to me since they hadn’t noticed the open back door, but I was in no mood to bitch at them. Plus, I knew nothing good would come from making a cop mad. So I made sure the door was locked and went back to work.

Two days later my parents had come to town to visit, and we were heading out to eat. I was on Yahoo with a female friend from Ohio and let her know what the plans were. Since we wouldn’t be gone long I didn’t set the alarm. Big mistake.

As we sat at the table waiting for our food about 30 minutes later, my cell rang. It was my friend from Ohio, and she wanted to know where I was. I reminded her I was at dinner with my family, and she said “Yes, I know that, but where.” I said we were at a Mexican place, and she said, “Well, you’re chatting with me on Yahoo and asking a lot of strange questions.” Immediately I knew what was going on and raced home. When I got there Yahoo was in fact turned on and signed in, but someone had deleted all of my archives. Again the back door was open, and nothing was taken. I of course called the cops, but they found nothing of interest.

To this day I am not certain who broke in to my house to go through my computer, but I have suspicions. The divorce was in process, and there were a couple of people on my ex’s side that expected it to get ugly. It never really did, but they expected it. They also assumed I was having an affair and I am sure would have loved to have some evidence. I would say that either someone in that little group, or someone hired by someone in that little group, was trying to do my ex a favor. They didn’t find anything, of course, because there wasn’t anything to find.

As an aside, I was pretty fucking offended they would think I would have been dumb enough to leave such an obvious trail if there were something I was hiding. I may be socially inept and certifiably insane, but I’m not an idiot.

Unfortunately, while I was talking to the cops I also got a call from the young lady I was interested in. She heard the voices and I explained the story. That was a mistake. If my being “unsettled” made her uncomfortable, the idea someone had broken in to my house really fucked with her mind. She was not about to let me have a shot at that point. In her mind dating me would guarantee that she’d have some maniac break in to her house looking for evidence of something, and she’d have to kill them. And although she was about 5’ 2” and 100 pounds, I have no doubt she could have, and would have, done it.

The moral of the story? I am not really sure. I would say that you need to buy a cheap couch for one thing. And you can be too open for another. Beyond that…well, it’s another reason I am sick of fucking drama.

I would like to apologize for calling for the assassinations of various world leaders. I didn’t really mean it. I was misinterpreted. I meant to say they should be kidnapped, stripped naked, covered in baby oil and forced to play TV tag in the Kemper Arena. I understand this has caused a great deal of trouble globally, except, of course, in Belgium where I understand that they actually did seize their leader and strip him naked. I will not be taking any responsibility for that because I think that was a completely unrelated event and a total coincidence.

I think Blogger put me on the “do not send anyone to this blog because it is fucking offensive” list. I have to say, I miss getting hits from people who don’t even read English. I really liked the few times they commented. Unfortunately all it was was foreign language spam, which is still more interesting than regular spam. I do like the way that all the spammers seem to like my blog. I mean, they all comment about how much they like it. Surely they aren’t posting that on every blog they hit. They must be reading every word I write.

It is important that they hear what I have to say though because I am the one sent to save their souls. Well, maybe not to save their souls. I am the one sent to take 80% of their income though, so I need them to read and join the cult. That is the real key. If there is anyone that needs to have 80% of their income taken to satisfy my greed…I mean to fund the good works of the cult, it’s the spammers.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind comment whores hunting for hits. But if you want to do it, I would appreciate it if you actually read the entry you are commenting to first. I used to delete the spam, but now I am leaving it. I have an idea. What I want is for everyone to actually go ahead and click those links, but instead of reading what they write just comment and link to something. You can link to anything. My blog, your blog…just link. Make a random ass comment that has nothing to do with anything and throw a link out there. I consider this a revelation from a higher power, or a spirit or something. It is a message from whatever I decide is the guiding force of the cult.

For the time being we are going to assume that the thing living under the bathroom sink is not the higher power and that is just another coincidence, like the Belgium kidnapping and stripping thing. It isn’t that uncommon I am sure to have a being living under your guest bathroom sink. Hell, I have a 6-year old that uses that bathroom. Who knows what the fuck lives in there. At times I am scared of going in there. If it weren’t for the fact that is where I get the revelations when I shit I wouldn’t go in there at all. That and the fact it’s the closest bathroom to the den.

That reminds me. As governor of this state, or country, or whatever it was I declared my house, I am declaring an illegal immigrant emergency and demanding federal emergency assistance in the amount of $50 billion. There was one point this weekend that, and I shit you not, 66% of the occupants of my house were non-residents. And you know what? Not one of them had any identification or anything, so I have no way of confirming their legitimacy. I do know that I have not received a single completed visa application, which would have to include the $200 processing fee. That means that those people were not here within the laws of this state or country or whatever. It is the responsibility of the government to secure the borders.

The way I see it, if this house is a state, the federal government should be providing me the funding I need to keep secure. We can’t just have people coming in here, playing Playstation and drinking all the fucking Kool-Aid. Why is it our responsibility to pay for their food and drink? Who’s going to cover the extra electric bills? And medical care? One of the little fuckers got hurt and I had to fund the bandage. All of those expenses wouldn’t be a problem if the feds were doing their job.

Now, just in case I declared this an independent nation, which I may have because I was pretty fucking drunk at the time, we need to look at what country these illegals are coming from. Well, the U.S surrounds this whole fucking house. That means the U/S. is exporting their problems to my shores, or carpets or whatever. To me, that is unacceptable. How would the U. S. feel if I started deporting these assholes? I bet there would be a big stink. Especially since I have no idea where they came from, so I will just have to stick them on the next bus or train. So the U. S. needs to be taking care of its people so I don’t have to.

But I do think there is a workable solution regardless of whether this is a state or a country. First, we need to create a buffer zone where we can monitor the comings and goings of the vermin. I propose that everything in a 5-mile radius around the house be razed. We can plant landmines in the first 2-mile stretch of the circle, except of course at the 3 crossing points. At these points we will need to station guards around the clock. I think 10 armed guards per crossing point should be sufficient. Oh, and around the no man’s land I want a 12-foot tall, 3-foot thick concrete wall. And every 100 feet along the wall we need to post armed guards.

The remaining funds will be used to remediate the gross imposition and related expenses of the trespassers. I understand the desire of these people to move to the worker’s paradise that is my house. But it is incumbent on a country to make it good enough for its own people to stick around. It’s not my job to provide for them just because the standard of living, as evidenced by the availability of Smarties and popcorn, is so much higher.

Now, I here you asking yourself, “Why should the government do this?” First and foremost, they should do it because I said so. Frankly, there is no other reason required. But I will provide one anyway. They have too much money.

I haven’t quite figured out how a bunch of people that have way too much fucking money to spend manage to find a way to spend even more than they have, but they do. I have come to realize that spending that much money is very hard. I was watching Brewster’s Millions in Spanish the other day, and he had a hell of a rough time spending all that money. I actually think he has a harder time spending it in Spanish than he does in English, because he sounded even more stressed. Now, if Richard Pryor, a man that was at one point spending more on coke every day than I spent on my last car, is having trouble spending $30 million in 30 days, imagine spending all the money they have to spend in Congress! I know there are a lot more of them, but it’s also a lot more money. I imagine they have a hard time coming up with new ways to spend it. You can only build so many bridges to nowhere, and fund only so many studies on the effects of cow farts on the environment. I figure that giving them a gimmie for $50 billion would be a very generous offer on my part. That only leaves them about $40 gazillion more to spend in the next budget.

Plus, think of all the jobs it will create. You got a lot of construction building those walls and checkpoints and towers. Then you have all those armed guards, and all the stuff to equip them. You have to build replacement houses for the people we relocate (hope they don’t wear orange or it could get ugly). Plus there are a couple of interstates that would need to be rerouted. I figure we could guarantee the economic stability of Ft. Worth for another 20-tears with this plan.

See, that is why I am the leader. I have all the good ideas.

I don’t think I have put off writing this long since I started this piece of shit. I have been drinking water and popping Advil all night hoping like hell this fucking headache would go away, but that ain’t gonna happen. Here I thought I was just kind of dehydrated from mowing the grass in 102-degree heat. Guess not.

I do expect that tonight will be a short one unless I get some serious inspiration. Right now all I can think about is the small man with the hammer inside my head. I hate that little fucker. He gets in a shitty mood and takes it out on me. It’s not like it’s my fault he has a shitty life living in my head. I didn’t invite him to live there. Fucker just moved in. See what happens when you’re sleeping.

The people at the movie channel really must like the movie Monster. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a good movie, but I think adding TMCMonster was a bit extreme. I am glad that I at least know what the fuck that channel is, because most of the times the names don’t make any sense.

I also think that the people that greenlighted the movie got scammed. Based on most of what gets made I think we can safely assume those guys don’t read the scripts. This time I think they got told there was a chance to make a movie with a sex scene featuring Charlize Theron and Christina Ricci. Who can blame them? I would have volunteered to cater the fucker if they told me that was what the film was about. I bet they didn’t expect them to make Charlize look like that though. Oh well, it’s their money. She got her Oscar and now the rest of us can safely assume we won’t be forced to see Charlize uglied up again.

Luckily they made it while Christina was still eating. She doesn’t look quite the same since she started going to whoever the doctor in Hollywood is prescribing meth as a nutritional supplement to all those actresses. On one hand, I really don’t like looking at once smoking hot women that now weigh less than my 6-year old. On the other hand, I bet it saves a lot of money dating an actress if she doesn’t actually eat. They seem to like expensive places, but now you only have to pay for one meal! I am sure it really saves on other things too. The catering costs on sets must have dropped a ton. And costumes… well, kids clothes are a lot cheaper than adult clothes, and now those girls can shop at Oshkosh B’gosh or something.

I also do want to thank the producers of Monster for not insisting on realism when it came to Christina Ricci’s character. I have seen the woman she played, and it is not a pretty site. This woman was extremely solid and butch. She’s one of those that you’d look at and think; “I’m pretty sure she’s a woman, but then again…” It’s kind of weird really, because they were insistent when it came to Charlize looking like Aileen Wuornos, but they let Christina slide. I appreciate that. I couldn’t have handled watching the sex scene with those two if they really looked like the pair they were playing. I might have actually been forced to kill myself.

But I think we can expect Hollywood to continue to hire women based on looks. I don’t blame them, because it’s what people seem to want to see, but have any of you ever watched The L Word? It’s a good show, but do you think it’s accurate with who they chose to play the Lesbians? Even on the show they make fun of the stereotypical Lesbian that you can spot from 100 feet away. But there is a reason that stereotype exists. There are a lot that have a certain look. But do they have any of them on the show? Hell no! They know they wouldn’t get people watching if that’s what they had, so they have it packed full of what are supposed to be lipstick lesbians. They did get a little butch with a couple of the girl’s hair, but do you see any short spiked hair on that show? They even have a drag king and, when you see her as a woman, and you do, she is a smoking hot blonde.

I am not going to complain about this shit though. It may not be realistic, but at least they show us hot women. I kind of like hot women.

You know what else I like? I like pizza. But I hate cheese. So I order my pizza without cheese. Living alone that really isn’t a problem for me. It does confuse the fuck out of the people taking the order sometimes though. They seem to think I am kidding. So, for anyone out there who works at a pizza place, I am not kidding. Really. I won’t send the shit back if it shows up without cheese, I swear. If it shows up with cheese I will call on former gang members I know and tell them you raped their little sister though.

I think I need to develop a drug habit, but I can’t decide which drug. I am going to say right now that meth is out, because it makes your teeth fall out and I like having teeth. I like the idea of heroin because it seems to be good for weight loss, and I would like to drop a couple of pounds. Pot would be bad because I don’t need to eat more, plus it’s not really addictive enough. I wouldn’t mind some really obscure drug though. That might be fun. That way, when I am in rehab I will stand out.

I considered becoming a sex addict actually. I like sex, and it is good to be addicted to something you like. But I really don’t have the energy for a sex addiction. Just too drowsy to have to be trolling all the time.

That reminds me. No, I am not being treated for that shit yet. They approved two kids of treatment, and either one will cost me an arm and a leg. One would have the giant tube hooked up to my face every night, the other I get to have a mouthpiece. I think I am going with the mouthpiece. It would be much easier to take with me, and is a little less obvious. Plus, the odds of it strangling me in my sleep would be less, and with my luck that is exactly what would happen. The fucked up thing is that, either way, they will probably end up operating anyway. They just want to see if this works but think surgery would work better. That’s fucked up in my opinion. The idea of doing something in stages when you know what the final step will be is asinine. And, of course, it costs everyone more money, and makes more money for the doctors. I knew I shoulda gone to medical school.

What I would rather have been actually is a pharmacist. I have worked in that industry, and I have been to a lot of pharmacies. I love a job where you get a shitload of money to basically count to 30. Now, I know it takes a lot of hard work to become a pharmacist, but that really is most of what they do. And now they have machines that do most of it for them. They pretty much just have to look and make sure the right pill is in the bottle. And they have computers with pictures to show them what the pill is supposed to look like. I actually have the hots for a local pharmacist, but I’d never ask her out. She has access to my drug records. No way she’d go out with me.

Well, shit, the headache is almost gone and this fucker was the same length as normal. Funny thing is, I don’t think I said anything. Then again, I’m not sure I ever say anything.

I don’t know if you have noticed it, but in addition to this blog I have actually been writing for the various news services. I can’t let you know which ones because they don’t know about the blog. What they do know, however, is that I am making the shit up. At first I thought this was going to be a problem, but it turns out they really don’t give a fuck as long as people keep buying the papers and watching the news.

Now, this has brought with it some really surprising revelations. They had to tell me some things that are made up so I would write things that fit in with the bullshit we have been reading for years. It turns out that much of what we think is true is really being made up by stupid fucks like me. They gave me this confidentiality agreement to sign, but then they gave me these facts before I signed it. I called my lawyer and he says they really fucked up because I don’t have to keep any secrets until I sign it. I ain’t signing the fucker until tomorrow, so now I am going to let fly with some amazing shit.

First off, George Bush ain’t President. In fact, there is no such person as George Bush. The 2000 election was won by some guy named Rob Montgomery from Indiana. It turns out they haven’t actually been telling us who the real President was since 1948. They had to get rid of Nixon and Kennedy because they almost got discovered when that dipshit Kennedy went around nailing famous bitches and Marilyn Monroe found out he not only wasn’t President, he was actually a bus mechanic for Greyhound. And Nixon got all pissy because he was mad that they made his character lose the war in Viet Nam, and he wanted to be a winner, so they wroth the fucker out of the script. They actually stopped using real people to act like they were President after Reagan. I would say using an actor people had heard of was pretty much testing the limits.

Surprisingly, the Kennedy assassination was real, and Oswald really did pull the trigger. They set the fucker up though. I guess he assumed that when President Buford told him that the government needed Kennedy gone that they’d cover up for him. But they didn’t, which really sucked for Oswald. But the whole thing sold a shitload of books and newspapers, and the TV ratings were through the roof, so it’s all good.

So anyway, as I am sure you have figured out, there is no war in Iraq. There isn’t even actually an Iraq anymore. It turns out Iran and Iraq are actually both the same place, and when you get there the locals just lie to you about where you are to fuck with you. The place is really called Iowa.

The Red Sox didn’t win the World Series. Well, they did, but all sports are actually fixed except wrestling. Wrestling is real. The media just makes everyone think it’s fake because Vince McMahon won’t play along with the whole scam.

There’s more, but I have to tell you about the story I wrote. I decided that I would write about shit that I wish would happen, so I made up a story about scientists wanting to introduce lions, elephants and shit like that in to the United States. With all the things like “wolf reintroduction” (fake story, by the way) I just figured I would take it up a notch. But there really is no scientist wanting to put all these wild animals in the U.S.

That’s too bad though, because I think it is a good idea. See, here in Texas, when they go hunting, what they actually do is set up a machine that feeds the deer on a set schedule. They have this thing running most of the year, and the deer get used to it. Then, during hunting season, these guys sit in these special chairs waiting for the deer. It’s kind of like shooting a cow in a pasture, except you don’t get arrested for doing it. Not that I ever did that.

So my thought is that we need some animals that are a little more challenging. My original thought was that we’d have a few Navy Seals out there in the forest and let the hunters go out and try to kill them, but I was told that didn’t really mesh well with the whole war story they got going on right now. They needed something different. That is when this idea hit me. It let us play to people that are worried about endangered animals and all that shit.

What I want is there to be animals that, if you miss them, they will kill you. Unfortunately we don’t have too many dangerous animals like that here naturally anymore, so in my story we import things like lions and tigers. I threw in elephants to make it believable because then I could trot out the thing about there being mammoths here thousands of years ago.

I am not at all opposed to hunting. I just think it has to be somewhat challenging if you are going to do it. To me, sitting in an elevated chair waiting for a domesticated deer to wander in to the clearing where you conditioned it to expect food is not that much of a challenge. We need to ratchet up the drama, and what adds more drama than having large cats rip the hunters limb from limb after they miss the shot because it’s hard to hit a moving target after a 12-pack of Coors.

That was just one of the stories I made up though. In this other story I said Madonna was injured when she was thrown from a horse on her birthday. Now, the truth is a horse hurt her, and it was on her birthday, but she wasn’t “riding” the horse. In fact, the horse was riding her! She has this deal with Guy Ritchie that, for her birthday, she gets to do anything she wants. With her sexual history I am sure you can imagine it takes a lot to “satisfy” her. I mean, when your cunt has had more visitors than the Washington Monument, it TAKES the Washington Monument to satisfy you after a while So, once a year Guy lets her fuck one of their horses. Unfortunately this time she picked a horse that was in to rough sex. I hear he had been slapping around the mares, so they should have expected a problem. He just got too rough, though.

So Madonna shot the fucker.

Also, I normally don’t use the word cunt. But I think that it’s hard to come up with a word to describe a vagina belonging to Madonna besides cunt. I had considered massive gash, but it just didn’t have the same flow as cunt.

That story actually got me paid pretty well because Madonna’s people paid me for coming up with a good way to explain her injuries. They had originally offered to let me name their next child, but they said I couldn’t name the kid Slingblade Okinawa. Some gratitude.

I have to run now, because I have to write something about Donald Rumsfeld for tomorrow’s newspapers. I wonder if he has a horse?

I think I have weathered the storm. I made it through the day without calling the ex for a piece of ass. I admit totally that that was all I was looking for. I would have let her know that too. But I made it through the day without picking up the phone and asking if I could get my dick wet.

It wasn’t really that much of an accomplishment though, because my son was here and there was no way I would have had her come over while he was here. Can’t pull the old “Why don’t you go out and play while daddy breaks off a piece of ass.”

Not sure that the next time I get weak I will have my son around. School starts this week, so I will be alone more. The good news is that that means I am more likely to do something stupid, meaning more lively real life entries. The bad news is that I probably don’t need any excitement. My old heart just can’t take it.

And then I read that the Scientologists were trying to recruit Oprah. At first I didn’t give a fuck because, even though I would get 80% of her shit, I don’t want that bitch in my cult. She’d just try to take it over, and I think that Stedman is some kind of psycho killer guy. I don’t think they’re really a couple at all. I think she uses him to kill her opposition. I can see no other way she got where she is. Plus, I always wondered what happened to Phil Donahue. I think Stedman killed him and then Oprah ate his heart to consume his power.

So Oprah is out because I don’t like her. I don’t trust her. I don’t want to have to deal with Stedman trying to kill me so Oprah can eat my heart. But I wasn’t upset because Oprah was going to get snapped up by the Scientologists. I wasn’t concerned that they would start to use her show to expand their cult, making it harder for me to recruit. I wasn’t even worried that her joining Scientology would result in more videos of couch jumping by Tom Cruise, and interviews with an extremely creepy John Travolta.

No, what had me worried was the extent that the Scientologists are willing to go to to get these celebrity members. First, Travolta gave the pompous windbag a $700,000 Bentley. Then Tom Cruise bought a mansion in Oprah’s neighborhood to make it easier to recruit her. I can see it now. Tom is always stopping by to borrow sugar and does some of that Scientology voodoo magic on her until she finally gives in and the next thing you know she is in the center with a couple of V-8 cans while they ask her questions about her childhood and the massive quantities of Whoppers and Big Macs she ate in her early career.

How can anyone be expected to compete with that? I know I need to get some celebrities in the fold, but I can’t go head to head with that kind of firepower. In retrospect maybe going after actors wasn’t the best idea. The Scientologists seem to have Hollywood pretty well wrapped up. There have been some high profile misses, like every actress under 25 except Katie Holmes turning down Tom, but it seems like they have gotten most of the talent that is open to considering a dumbass religion based on the rants of some fucked up jackass. That’s pretty much what I offer too, so that pond may be fished out.

Instead, I want to target the music industry. There are some deeply disturbed individuals in the music industry. They always seem to be drunk and/or stoned, so they are easily manipulated. Plus, they are used to having no idea how much money they make and finishing their career with nothing to show for it except a crack habit and a nasty testicle infection. They won’t miss the money they contribute to the cult at all. Plus, while there aren’t a lot of women in the music industry outside Country and R&B, the guys seem to have huge numbers of women following them and willing to do anything they say. That more than compensates for the limited female prospects. Plus, it should keep us well supplied with women for those that do choose to have more than one wife. We may not have to do the swapping thing much at all.

For those looking to line up recruits, we have some guidelines though. First off, anyone in the following genres has to be approved by me before recruitment:
- Country
- Hip Hop
- Folk
- Anything not sung in English
- Hair Metal
Actually, maybe you need to just have anyone approved first. I really don’t want anyone in the cult with shitty music, a cowboy hat or allegiance to a gang. Beyond that I just don’t want anyone whose concert I wouldn’t want backstage passes to, unless they are some hot chick, have an obscene amount of money or have so many followers that we can use their fans to gain a voting majority in a state the size of Virginia. I am kind of going on the assumption that anyone like that that joins I will have to listen to, and if their music sucks they will have to be worth it.

Of course, if their music sucks I will be doing everything I can to either change their music or ruin their career as soon as I have milked them for all they are worth.

As an aside, I swear that some cult leader somewhere already did that to Garth Brooks. There is no other explanation for his Chris Gaines experiment that I can think of. I suppose it is possible he had gone on a mescaline binge and that was the end product, but I think the Enquirer would have noticed something like that, and they didn’t say a word.

I also think I need to let everyone know that I am strongly in favor of the use of steroids. I know that the whole world is telling us how bad they are, but I can’t agree with that. Personally, I don’t give a fuck what someone does to try to be better at sports or to look better. It’s their body, so if they want to mess with steroids, that’s fine with me.

Yeah, I know it does some nasty shit. I know it shortens lifespans. But it seems to me that they decided they’d rather have a shorter life with a better body. Can’t say I blame them. I know it shrinks the balls, but they aren’t my balls so I don’t give a fuck. I know it makes guys go bald, but I figure that makes my full head of hair look even better, so that’s a good thing. I know it causes acne, but, again, I look better compared to them.

To me, I want to see freakishly strong people when I watch sports. I want them to be able to do things that only science makes possible. I want to start seeing 110 mph fastballs being hit for 600-foot homeruns. I want to see 2 football players collide with such force that Drudge reports seismic activity with a big red siren thing. I want to see runners that can race against horses and win.

These people already fuck up their bodies. You think it’s a coincidence that NFL players live on average to the age of 56? I say let them do whatever the fuck they want as long as it results in more entertaining television for me.

And I don’t give a fuck that kids follow their lead. That’s just evolution in process. If parents are raising kids that will do anything they hear some athlete did, then that’s not my problem. In fact, it’s good that they start as kids because their nads will shrink before they have a chance to have more stupid kids. We can actually improve the gene pool.

In short, I am in favor of a free needle exchange not only for heroin addicts, but also for freakishly muscular people.

I swear I am going to have to quit my job.

First, I have to keep this blog going. I haven’t been pimping it near as much as I used to, so the days of up to 1,500 hits are gone, but I haven’t put any less effort in to writing it. And, even with these little entries, it’s not always easy. Some nights the words just don’t flow. Now that I am not writing about as many dating nightmares, it’s harder. It’s a lot easier to tell a story than it is to make up some of this wild shit.

Then there is my plan for another blog: Who’s To Say. For those who have forgotten, or those who just never read about it, back in school I was decreed the person “Who’s to say”. Basically, what that means is, I am the guy to settle arguments when it gets down to the parties being stuck on “Who’s to say…” An example would be, two friends are arguing about whether it’s cheating if you accidentally bang your girlfriend’s twin sister. Since they can’t decide, one of them says, “Who’s to say he should be able to tell the difference between the sisters’ naked bodies?” I would be the one to say.

And now we have this whole cult, which probably does need it’s own website, as a loyal reader pointed out. Obviously we would need to explain what we believe, first and foremost. To do that, of course, we have to know what we believe, which is still somewhat up in the air. I haven’t really decided if I am sticking with the deity living under the guest bathroom sink, or if we need a different God. I do know we need to believe something though. We would also need to have some of the rules listed there, but not too many. And the rules are always in a state of flux; so keeping that updated would be a real pain in the ass. The site would also need a way to make donations, as well as to buy religious artifacts, like thongs.

And let’s not forget the book plans. I’ve got several books I want to write. There’s the compilation of my dating adventures. There’s a dating advice book. There’s some other stuff I never mentioned here that is far too dark for this site.

Plus I have my career as an artist. If I am going to become the foremost Jell-O artist, then I have a lot of planning to do. There’s the kids, the sponsors, the grants…

And now I have a production company to run.

Yeah, I’m gonna have to quit my job. Of course that means that you guys are going to have to start buying a shitload more merchandise. If you consider the fact I make like 25 cents per item, I think that everyone needs to consider the possibility that all of their clothes need to have the appropriate logo, if you catch my drift. Those of you with kids also may wish to consider dressing your child in some new clothes. Finally, it’s never too soon to start Christmas shopping.

I am willing to make this sacrifice though. I recognize that it’s not easy being a renaissance man. It’s not easy to be a religious icon. It’s not easy to con thousands of people it to giving you almost all their money so you can live a life of luxury. But I am up to it.

I do have a confession to make though. I have been really tempted to call an ex and see if she wants to hook up. I know I shouldn’t, but damn I miss the sex. I really miss sex.

I was browsing the net and saw a pic of a girl that looked almost exactly like this girl. That got me thinking about things, and once my mind starts going, it really gets going. As I have said, I am dangerous when I get bored. I think even more so when I get bored and horny. Given that work has been kind of slow I have been spending a lot of time doing things like sending out letters. That is not conducive to keeping my mind occupied. Unfortunately that means it is going where it wants, and what it wants is some ass.

The lame thing is that I really can’t call this ex and expect to get in and out with no complications. That’s just not how it works. So I have to weigh my desire to get some with my desire to not deal with any insanity. I think I am going to have to side with sanity at this point, but that could change as I get hornier. And sure as shit I will be getting hornier.

Which reminds me. Remember the Wanga bag post? Believe it or not, someone was actually Googling for whatever the fuck that Ogoun was called, and ended up on this blog. First, I am impressed it already showed up in the search engines. Second, now I am scared that some voodoo fuck is going to try to kill me. I have made fun of lots of wacky religions, but that’s the one that scares me. I saw Angel Heart, and I have no desire to have what happened to Toots Sweet happen to me.

So, I want to let anyone that reads this know that I have nothing but the deepest respect for Voodoo and the crazy people with razors that show their devotion by killing live chickens.

And I was also stunned to learn that my friend Sassy Snack had her blog flagged for objectionable content. I am assuming that if she is objectionable I must be downright obscene. She may say fuck every now and then, but I don’t think she ever wrote a post dedicated to how wonderful the word fuck is, and how flexible it is. I also doubt she ever had a post that a reader referred to as “Butt Bongo Fiesta”.

So, in response to the flagging of Sassy, I removed the navbar from the top. Actually I have wanted to remove it for some time but I never knew how. Luckily someone commented on her blog about how to do it, and I just copied from there. But I will say that it’s fucking ridiculous to flag a journal like hers as objectionable when there are so many porn spam blogs on this piece of shit.

Which reminds me…to that certain site that made me stop posting my blog in my signature, despite the fact they allow it in most cases: There are about 30 people a day who actually search the archives of your site to find this blog by finding my old posts. I know one pathetic old crone found it objectionable that there was a link to the blog, but it kind of looks like more people liked having the link.

I better get some rest. I have a lot of tasks in my many roles, plus I have to mow the grass tomorrow. Is it just me or does it seem like that sounds sexual?

Contrary to what you may think, I haven’t decided to take on a life of crime. While it is very tempting, it really just doesn’t have the upward mobility I look for in a job. Plus, if the plan is to stop dating crazy women, I probably should look to attract the kinds of women that fall in love with notorious killer. Besides, having watched a lot of A & E and The History Channel, the women that go after these guys generally seem unattractive. Maybe only the ugly ones agree to be interviewed.

In the movies they are all a lot hotter. The exception is that one wife of Chris Keller with the glandular problem. But the rest of them are all really fine. I am not sure why that is. Of course it is possible that they just use attractive people because we like seeing them more. But another possibility is that the people that make movies and TV shows are just surrounded by attractive people so that is all they have to choose from when they do the casting.

Because of this, I think the cult will need to invest in a production company.

I don’t know exactly what kind of movies we will make, but they will be better than the crap that the Scientologists are making. Not that it will be hard to make a better movie than Battleship Earth.

We won’t be making movies to try to spread the word of the cult. Part of the appeal is being on the outside of society. It’s not near as much fun to run a mainstream cult. If you look at the churches that have popped up in the last couple of hundred years, the leaders of the one’s that took off really don’t seem to be having any fun. The Mormons got rid of all the parts of the religion that were fun. The Christian Scientists seem painfully dull.

But the guys on the outside…they have a lot of fun. Just look at Sun Myung Moon. That guy has a fun life. First off, he eats off of gold plates, and they only use them once! I want to be the guy that does his dishes. He owns his own newspaper, and I swear he just runs it so he can contradict the people at the Washington Post. And when he gets bored he gets a few thousand followers together, pairs them up and marries them all at once.

It’s really too bad he hasn’t come down in favor of gay marriage. If you are going to really start fucking with your members you could have a lot of fun by suddenly deciding they are going to spend the rest of their lives in a gay marriage. As you know, I have already decreed I am in favor of gay marriage for the purposes of the cult. But rest assured I have no plans on pairing up people at random for marriage. I really don’t want to get that close to the masses.

Now, Reverend Moon has had his share of problems. That whole prison term for tax evasion thing had to suck. I imagine he was in a nicer prison than the one they sent Martha Stewart too, which is only fair because she is much more evil than Reverend Moon. At least he kept his brainwashing behind closed doors instead of taking it to network television and the shelves of your local K-Mart.

My problem with Reverend Moon is that he used brainwashing at all though. I have no plans to use brainwashing. I want followers to knowingly assign control of their lives to me. I’m not going to use chanting, sleep deprivation and protein to weaken you first. In fact, I am going to encourage the eating of dead animals. I am not going to encourage sleeping because any time spent sleeping is time not spent earning money for the tithe. I do see that sleep makes workers more productive though, so I am in favor of it in general.

But, back to the whole movie thing. Yes, we are going to be producing movies and TV shows. I think that will really help us make a lot more money. I look at all the cash Hubbard’s boys rake in. I was reading that getting the whole alien spirits possessing your body secret costs like $200 grand. And they want years to get you to that point. I will reveal our most serious religious revelations for $100,000, and I’ll tell you as soon as the check clears.

By having a production company we can attract some celebrity followers. I am not doing this because I like celebrities, because I actually have a lot of disdain for most of them. But they have a lot of money in general, and they will also help us lure in other members who are stupid enough to think celebrities are somehow more intelligent because they can memorize scripts and read cue cards. Those are exactly the kinds of people we are looking to attract.

Plus, there are a lot of hot celebrities, so we will have better prospects for the marriages.

But, I just had a revelation: Celebrities should not marry one another. On one hand, it’s a good thing for them to marry because the rotating spouse thing would work pretty well with the average length of a celebrity marriage. But I want them to be marrying normal people because they need a dose of reality. On top of that, I will bless marriages of those who benefit the cult the most. I can use these stars as rewards.

The best thing about our new production company is that it will help us launder money. Having studied the movie industry I have learned that, no matter how much a movie makes at the box office, there are no profits. Nobody is ever sure where the money goes, but it doesn’t ever result in profits. Somehow there is always more money to make more movies, but never enough to generate taxable income.

And the best part is that, since the stars will have to contribute 80% of their salary to the cult, and we’ll be the one’s writing their checks, we can get all the money we put in to a movie right back out, and our accountants will make sure that happens. We can’t expect the stars to be burdened with actually writing those checks themselves, now can we? I figure we’ll be able to make a shitload of money, but none of it will be taxable. We just take the “contributions”, reinvest them in more movies, and the whole thing is like a Ferris Wheel of cash.

That reminds me, I need to start work on the plans for our cult’s amusement park. I can’t wait to ride the Serious version of “It’s a Small World”, where all the little kids are replaced by lesbian midgets.

It’s a sad day when psycho killers get more marriage proposals than I do. Erik and Lyle Menendez have both had proposals and even got married. Ted Bundy had women meeting him to bang in the visiting lounge. Richard Ramirez got married in prison. I bet the BTK guy will have plenty of fun reading love letters during his 10 life sentences. Hell, even Chris Keller had women after him.

I am not sure Keller really counts. The women I saw him with on the show were all ex-wives. If you had the women before you came in it’s not the same as the women chasing famous killers. I don’t know for sure if they knew he was a serial killer before he got convicted of it, but we’ll assume they didn’t. But Ryan O’Reiley hooked up with that doctor and she not only knew he was a killer, she knew he had had his brother kill her husband.

Even though those last 2 were from the TV show Oz, I still think they count.

Anyway, the point is, here I am, the #1 anal sex blog on the net. I am your best source for stories about wanga bags. The favorite blog for people looking for stories about some guy named Jerry, even though I don’t have any. I am the premier crazy ex-girlfriend blog. I am even the best place there is for geriatric lesbian midget erotica.

But do I get any random women sending me their pictures and proposing marriage? Do I have women wanting visitation so we can bang in the same room where other guys are having heroin smuggled in by their baby mommas? How many women are petitioning the parole board for my early release? Who is asking the Governor to commute my sentence?

I know I am not in prison, I didn’t kill anyone and I have never been interviewed by Geraldo, but you would think I’d get at least one proposal. I don’t get anything good like that.

Perhaps it is because there is some concern that I am going to have multiple wives, but I am not planning on marrying more women except every other year, so I just don’t see the issue.

In the mean time, I need sleep. I will do an extra entry tomorrow, I swear.

Now those were some twisted dreams.

In the first one, I was visiting some kind of plumbing supply manufacturer. That, in and of itself, is not strange. But the fact that in the dream the Catholic Church was a subsidiary of the company was strange. Plus, in the dream, the Pope was visiting. That made it real confusing because, on one hand, he was the Pope, so people were excited. On the other hand, he worked for a subsidiary so he was also meeting his superiors.

In the other dream I was visiting with radio host Tom Leykis and some really large guy that may have been from Samoa. For those who are not familiar with Tom Leykis, you can visit his web site here: http://www.blowmeuptom.com/. For those who don’t feel like visiting and still want to know about Tom, he basically preaches to men about their need to get laid and other things lots of women don’t like hearing, like the idea that men shouldn’t date women with kids or go out with a woman on a weekend who won’t put out.

Now, 2 things about this dream make it strange. First, I don’t listen to Leykis much. I just can’t relate to his mindset. The second, and more disturbing, weirdness is what we were doing. Basically I was telling Tom and the Samoan guy some of my dating stories…while we got manicures. He even ridiculed me for the size tip I left. Then, for some reason, we decided to get pedicures. And I told more stories, including the one about the only time I ever got a pedicure and how much I hated it.

So, I had a dream about a guy whose show I don’t listen to where we went and did something I don’t like doing.

At first I was hoping that getting the sleep mess straight would make these dreams stop. But on further consideration, I hope it doesn’t. I like the weird dreams. I don’t like nightmares, but these kinds of dreams make me laugh. They make absolutely no sense, and always have strange twists that surprise even me.

If you look over on the left hand side of the page you will see a little thing called “Pico Search”. Basically, this lets you search all the old posts so you can find specific things. It also helps me because I know what people are looking for.

The problem is the top two search terms. Number one of, of course, anal. Yes, it is clear that I have become the “anal sex guy”. I guess I knew that one because the number of hits doubles the days I talk about banging on the backdoor. I only have so many anal sex stories though, and most of them just aren’t that interesting. All they really are is normal relationships that happen to have anal in them. Scratch that. They are the closest thing I get to a normal relationship, that just happen to include anal sex.

The real problem is in the second top search term: Jerry. Who the fuck is Jerry and why are you people looking for information about him? I don’t know any Jerry, and I sure haven’t written about Jerry. But, for some reason, people keep searching for Jerry. Is there some guy named Jerry that thinks I am writing about him? Do some of you think my name is Jerry?

As near as I can tell what people really want me to write about is somebody named Jerry having anal sex. I am hoping you don’t expect me to have the anal sex with Jerry, cause I just can’t help you out there. I haven’t really written about any of my friends having fucked up relationships, so it would be a change. I guess it wouldn’t because I don’t have any friends named Jerry, so if I write about Jerry having anal sex it would just end up being fiction. Of course I also haven’t written any fiction here.

I hate to let you all down though, because I have no plans to start writing fiction. Even if it did I doubt it would include Jerry, whoever the fuck he is, or anal sex. If I start writing erotica here it’s going to be all about geriatric lesbian midgets.

On a hopefully unrelated note, I am destined to have nothing but crazy women. There sure as hell aren’t any sane women showing any interest in me. In the past few weeks a few women have shown interest. One I haven’t really seen as being crazy, but I could be wrong. The other two…yeah, they’re nuts.

The lame thing is that you can’t just disengage with a crazy woman. They don’t tend to stay gone. They come back and do crazy things. As I have said before, my personal rule is that when it’s over, it’s over. There is no reason to keep messing with each other. That is not the approach that crazy women take though.

Crazy women will invent reasons to contact you. I guess the most classic is the one that started this blog, with Heather asking me to testify on her behalf in a custody hearing. But there will always be reasons. One ex contacted me to ask if I had posted a profile on the Internet claiming she was bi.

For the record, I didn’t do anything like that. I have never done anything remotely like that. Of course she had to know that because the picture attached to the profile was one taken months after we had broken up. Either the profile was an excuse, or she believed I had broken in to her house, some 100 miles away from where I live, stolen a picture, scanned it and made a profile claiming she was bi. This would have been particularly odd since we broke up on good terms and it was actually my idea.

But they don’t need anything like that. If they want to upset or hurt you, which is not at all uncommon, they will just keep fucking with you. I’ve seen it some here with the occasional dumb ass post from someone holding a grudge. Usually I just delete them and move on. Other times they just keep trying to get under your skin.

I have never understood why these people feel the need to hate the person they break up with. It’s not enough to just be done with the person. These people have to build up a hatred. You can even see it in their actions. They escalate their anger and don’t just move on with their lives. I don’t know what motivates them, but it is something I have actually gotten used to.
That is the part that bugs me the most. I am actually used to this shit. I almost expect it.

When I was in college my friends and I discovered the Weekly World News. Now, I know everyone reads articles from there now, but back then there was no Internet, so most people had never read it. I know it must have sold some copies, but it sure didn’t sell many.

We found it an amazing source of entertainment though. Of course there were the great stories. You could always count on Satan being seen in a storm or Jesus in a sunrise. Hitler was always popping up som