Scared Bunny

I realized something today. It has got to be hard to be a pathological liar.

I should clarify this statement. I am not talking about the kind of pathological liar that tells just wild tales they pull out of their ass. I am talking about the good ones. Most of the liars I have known are pretty bad at it. It’s not that they are bad at telling lies, it’s that they are bad at picking what to lie about. No matter how sincere you seem you are going to have a hard time convincing me that you went to high school with Bruce Willis if you are 15 years younger than he is.

The good ones lie about all sorts of wild shit but, beyond that, they have a lot of knowledge about the subject to back it up. That has got to take a lot of work. The amount of reading and television watching required for some of these people must be astounding. If you check their facts they know what they are talking about, but the way they say they got the information is where you figure out eventually they are full of shit. Usually there is a part of that part of the story that just doesn’t hold water, or contradicts a different lie they told. Regardless they know an awful lot of shit.

I came across one of those this weekend. It’s not someone I dated, am dating or will date, so it’s not going to be one of those stories. It’s not even someone I am friends with or even know. Just one of those people you are around enough that you hear them talk a lot. At first this person always annoyed me because they were such a know it all, and each time they showed off their knowledge there was always a story that went along with it.

Now, I know a lot of shit, despite how ignorant I may seem in this blog, and the fact I love to used words like fuck, shit and asswipe. But rarely does any of what I know have a fun story that goes along with it. In my life I have read a lot and watched a lot of documentaries, and I remember facts. It’s not even anything I am proud of, because it’s not like it is anything I have ever worked on. It just happens. So when I trot out a fact and someone asks where I got it I basically am stuck. I know because I know.

Now this woman always has an amazing story. Well, maybe not amazing always, but it always involves her being this amazing traveler who has known people in every country on earth as well as in every industry. Amazingly she has done all this without ever living anywhere besides her home state. Of course she does have a lot of stories that involve traveling, but nobody that knows her seems to have ever known her at any point during her world travels.

The thing is it’s really hard to be mad at someone for this kind of lie. They aren’t doing any harm, and they really do know a lot more than the average person. Of course they don’t understand that, if you aren’t applying it, this knowledge is basically just trivia, but even trivia masters have to do a lot of work to become trivia masters. So, here we have a person I know is totally full of shit, but I also think is a very well read person. It’s kind of funny really.

I have no idea why I even wrote that.

I did come across an amazing story of male stupidity though. And you will have to trust me that I verified this one.

It seems there was a guy who was a client of escorts. I have no idea how many he saw, how much he spent or anything like that. I do know he was very fond of one particular escort he saw regularly. I would personally go as far as to say he was in love with this girl, but who can really say for sure.

Anyway, as you would expect, this girl had a certain amount of drama in her life. In this case she had a really bad relationship with her ex-husband. They were always fighting. He had a history of drugs. Unfortunately this mess always seemed to end up involving their kid. And to take it to an extreme the husband decided to take the kid and leave the state.

Now this is one of those cases where it’s hard to say who for sure should have the kid. For me I always side against the drug user though by default. But the point of the story is not the mother, the father or the kid. Instead, we are talking about this guy.

See, it seems the mother decided, as one would expect, to go get her kid. So she loads up her car with a lot of shit, anticipating she will be gone a while, and heads out. Except her car won’t run. She panics. She desperately wants to leave to get her kid, but she can’t. If she spends the money to get the car fixed, she won’t have any money to go on the trip. So she calls this guy and asks for help.

I know what you are thinking though. You are wondering why this guy would be crazy enough to lend her money, or just asking yourself how a man could be so ruled by his dick to lend money to a prostitute, even if there does seem to be a good reason. Well, he didn’t lend her any money.

He lent her his car.

His only car.

Yes, that is correct. He gave the girl his car, which she had for an entire month while she got her son back. This whole time he had to walk to work every day. He had to walk to the store. Pretty much anywhere the guy went he walked.

Now, the story does have a happy ending. The girl did get her son, and she did come back. She did return the car, and he is probably now happily driving wherever he needs to go. But just because the story has a happy ending, I am just dumbfounded. I once lent a spare car to a long-term girlfriend’s mother, but she also lived where I lived and wasn’t going to be heard to track down. Plus, this was a real relationship, not one where it was so clearly a one-sided relationship.

So, was the guy an amazingly good judge of character or amazingly lucky? I really don’t know. I don’t know either of them really, so I’m in no position to really judge that. I will say that it is one hell of a gamble, and an awful big sacrifice. On one hand, I admire anyone willing to do that for someone. I know I am way beyond ever doing anything remotely like that again (not that even I ever went to that extreme). On the other, it sure seems stupid on the surface.

I dunno, but I do know I’m fucking hungry. I want a burger.

Yeah, I’m an asshole. I am playing dumb with the girl that pointed out that women would respond to the personal ad just because I said it would take someone special to get me to have a serious relationship. I looked at it this way. Either she thinks I’m an idiot, or she’s playing some kind of game by saying she’s not interested. Regardless of which it is, I figure it’s only right that I have some fun with it.

It’s hard though, because you have to walk a fine line where you sound just dumb enough to have had no idea that women would react like that, and going over the top and it being so obvious that you are playing with her. The first 5 or 6 responses sounded so sarcastic I am sure they would have blown the whole thing. I was even worried about the subject of the email because it was so easy to sound like a smartass. It’s not easy for me to come across as naïve if the person is even the least bit observant. Unfortunately I don’t know just how dumb this person is yet, so I don’t know quite how far I can go.

I also wonder if I should have said something like “It will take a very special woman who is great in the sack, smoking hot and willing to clean my house (including laundry). Oh, and she should be very wealthy. That might have been pushing it though.

I also want to add something. I normally don’t mention politics and current events, but this time I have to. See, it turns out that Bono is pissed off at Eminem because he wouldn’t return the pompous one’s calls about performing at Live 8. Personally, this made me laugh so hard I almost lost control of my bodily functions. Finally, someone has figured out that Bono, as a rock star, is not some fucking saint whose presence should cause mere mortals to tremble. The guy meets with presidents because he is a self-declared expert on poverty. And it takes a guy like Eminem to remind him, and hopefully the rest of the world, of his proper place.

I admit I like Eminem, so I am biased, but I like U2 too. I just don’t pretend that a guy like Bono has all the answers. And the fact is, I don’t care why he is calling, if someone doesn’t want to return his calls, that’s their fucking business. I liked the Live 8 shows…but because they were good shows. I don’t think that a bunch of millionaires pretending they give a shit is actually going to solve anything. Hell, I think we can look at the attitudes of the world and see pretty clearly that nothing is changing because of what they said and did. It does seem to have raised Bono and Geldof’s profiles even higher though, so I guess it achieved something.

Personally I think Eminem would have told them no even if he had returned the call. First off, he was already on tour, so he probably had plans for that day. Second, and most people don’t know this, during the tour he flew home after every show so he would be there when his daughter and niece woke up in the morning. Even if he did have the day off, I think it’s pretty fair to say he deserved a little rest. I used to do a lot of one-day business trips by plane, so I know exactly how hard it is. I can’t imagine doing it during an 80-city US tour, even with a private jet.

Anyway, back on to what this blog is really about: bacon.

I like bacon.

I also have fucked up dreams.

The first from last night was about me trying to protect a mother and daughter from demons that were trying to kill them. I was fighting these damn demons and, the whole time, I knew that the demons were attacking because of something the mother and daughter were doing. I knew that they were afraid of the demons, but at the same time encouraged them and were actually on the demons side.

Then there was a bizarre 2-part dream. In the first part I had a new boss who was supposed to take us to a business dinner. We waited for a long time and when she finally was ready to go she told us we were eating at Wendy’s. I guess she was joking though because we ended up going to a nice place. The problem is that when we got there I ended up eating with my parents instead. I couldn’t find my way to where my boss was. And my mother insisted I give her my shirt so my dad could use it to work on the car. That caused a huge family fight because I liked my shirt.

And the third dream had me going to an illegal poker game in a really rough bar. When I got there who was waiting to play but Heather’s ex-husband, with Heather at his side. He wasn’t there long though (and neither was she) because he was caught cheating, so the guys that ran the bar shot him. The same thing happened to two other players. At this point not only were we running out of players, but the thugs ended up searching us to make sure the rest of us weren’t hiding cards. I do have to say I though the search was more thorough than it needed to be, even if they didn’t catch anyone. I know for a fact I couldn’t hide cards under my nutsack. Of course as soon as we sat back down to play there were 2 more players caught cheating. I woke up before they got shot though. I am pretty sure they did get shot though.

You know, I wish my dreams could be taped. You’d love to see them. At least if you like twisted movies. In fact I think I could actually sell the tapes. If you were a fan of independent type films, you’d like their bizarre storylines, strange characters and twists and turns. For action fans we have some with lots of shooting and explosions. Horror fans have demons. I am not sure what we have for romantic fans or people looking for humor, but they could have laughed at me getting my balls checked for playing cards.

I wish I could figure out what triggers these deeply fucked up dreams. That way, on nights I want the entertainment, I could be sure to do it. Other nights I could skip it and maybe get decent sleep.

Women are funny. Not all women, just some of them.

See, in my personal ad I am pretty honest. Basically I am not looking for anything serious. I am not saying I am absolutely not going to get serious, but it will take someone special. The ad was written the way it was for two basic reasons. The first is that it is the absolute truth. The second is because, at the suggestion of damn near every woman that reads this blog, it sets me up as a challenge.

So I get this email from a girl that saw the ad, and she says she’s not interested but she thought the ad was funny because, of course every woman thinks she is the special one. Well no shit. That is kind of the point now isn’t it? I mean if the ad gets you to go to the trouble to reply even when you aren’t really interested, it is doing its job. The funny thing is that she seems to actually think it hasn’t occurred to me that a woman would see that and be more interested because she wants to get something that isn’t supposed to be possible?

I basically have determined that there are two great sources of information about women. The first is other women. Ya’ll are great at selling each other out, and I greatly appreciate it. I learn a great deal about how women think from other women. You don’t learn it from women you are involved with though. That’s not to say they aren’t interested and you aren’t interested. If they are interested they aren’t pursuing it anyway.

The other great source is James Woods. Now, I know that being a celebrity is a big reason why he gets women. But the fact is he gets women he shouldn’t get, and keeps them longer than he should keep them, because he makes himself a challenge. He was pretty blunt that the key to his success is to not actually give the women what they say they want. As soon as he does that they leave. I think it’s because they will stay to try to get what they want, but once they have it there is no point in hanging around. He keeps himself a challenge.

Guys are usually not a good source of information though. Not just about women but about guys. Of course we don’t ask guys about guys because, well, we are guys. That would just be gay. But most of them don’t know shit about women. They usually talk like they do, but when you see them make their move you see they are truly clueless. There are exceptions, but they generally seem to have trouble explaining themselves. That or they don’t want you to understand because that would mean more competition.

They are also a bad source of info for women because, as soon as you ask them, they start trying to make themselves look better by comparison. If they have even the remotest interest in you, your friends, your sister or any woman you might possibly talk to in the future, they will be totally full of shit. Plus there is this whole “guy code” thing, so even if they aren’t thinking with their dick, they are acting on behalf of dicks in general. Now, I have sold out guys many times. Part of that probably comes down to trying to make myself look better by comparison (which I then totally trash by telling stories like the infamous Butt Bongo Fiesta). Part of it is because I don’t trust guys. And part of it is because so many of them are so fucking stupid it is just real easy to make fun of them.

It’s like this story I read in GQ. They researched the sex trade globally, and finished with tales of Costa Rica. Of course their focus is on things like sexual slavery, sex trafficking and child abuse. The really extreme stuff is, of course, what sells magazines. But for me the Costa Rica tales, which generally didn’t involve any of those things, were the best.

First, let me explain I am not, in principle, opposed to prostitution. Honestly, I don’t care if someone wants to sell their body for cash of their own free will, and they are an adult with reasonable mental capacity (including not a drug addict). Heaven knows there are many legal jobs that are even more damaging. Hell, the average NFL player has a life expectancy of 57 years, so I’d say we can safely say playing pro football shortens lives and affects the players’ health. And, it’s kind of hard to ignore the fact that men have been paying for sex in one way or another forever. Do you know how many women I know admit they have slept with a guy out of some sense of obligation because of how much he spent?

But, back to the real point, the interesting point was the guys. One local put it real well. For a guy to get women of the caliber they described requires looks, charm and cash. And, as he put it, the guys that are going to Costa Rica for sex may have as many as 2 of those things, but few if any have all 3. But despite that these guys will post stories of there exploits that have the girls cumming about every 12 seconds and practically passing out from pleasure.

I know a lot of women. I have heard women talk about sex many times. I am certain that if the guys were that good the stories would get around and the guy’s rep would be solid enough he wouldn’t have to travel to Latin America to get hot women. Obviously a guy with that much skill isn’t a total toad, or nausea would be an issue. But these guys are like bloggers. They all have 9-inch dicks, the stamina of a marathon runner and sexual skills that put Don Juan de Marco to shame.

It is kind of hard to read about something like that and not laugh my ass off. And they write the stories not for the benefit of women, but for other guys. I get the idea of wanting a guy to know how much pussy you get. That just goes back to our biological drive to nail anything that’s warm and wet. But when it gets to trying to impress other guys with your skill, I get a little confused. Scratch that. I am not at all confused. If you want a guy to think you are a good lay, you are more in to the guy reading the story than the girl the story is ostensibly about.

Obviously, however, I am different. I write to make myself look like shit.

As I have mentioned, I am growing out my hair. It’s been a pain, but I am getting used to it. As a result, I have decided to grow my hair down to my ass. Of course it’s going to be my back hair, but still.

I have to explain something. I understand the whole thing where girls pretend to be bi because it’s supposedly some sort of cool thing. I get that. But we aren’t talking stupid kids here trying to be different and rebellious. Some of them are college age girls, but if this has gotten to the point that women in their 30’s and 40’s are doing it, the world is out of control. It was bad enough when these women were trying to wear the hip-huggers and belly shirts to show off their stretch marks and c-section scars. But this is just sad and does not provide near the humorous moments.

Assuming for just a moment the older women are doing it because the younger girls are doing it, I have to explain something: Just because younger girls do something doesn’t mean if you do it you will look younger. It started with the fashions, and we let that slide. It moved on to the schoolgirl outfits and we didn’t say anything even if it did cause nightmares. You got braces even though there was nothing wrong with your teeth, and we laughed behind your back, but there were no protests. But pretending to be bi is just sad. It doesn’t make you look younger. It’s not like there aren’t old bi women. (Well, I don’t know for a fact that there are old bi women, but I assume there are.) What’s next? Ya’ll going to be doing Algebra homework and ask us to sign your yearbooks on a first date?

Can you imagine if people were pretending to be members of any other minority group in such massive numbers? I don’t mean copying the styles and stereotypical behaviors because people do that all the time. I am talking about actually claiming to be members of the group. There would be asses getting kicked left and right. And I would totally support that. It’s fucking stupid to pretend to be part of a group you aren’t a part of. I know people think being bi somehow makes you special and sexy, but if you aren’t bi, it makes you look pathetic. Eventually the gay/bi community is going to get really pissed off. There will be rending of clothes and pulling of hair. And if I can catch it on video I will be a fucking millionaire.

On top of that there are these women who are only bi because their boyfriend/husband wants a 3-way. Gotta love that. Those guys have the women played. They take that little curiosity and just keep playing it until the “couple” wants to explore. If your boyfriend wants to stick his dick in another chick, no matter what she is doing with her mouth at the time, he’s just not that in to you. He’s in to sex, and he’s going to be in to her pretty quick, but he doesn’t care a whole lot about you. For most guys a 3-way is about fantasy, but if he still needs to fulfill a fantasy that requires another woman, then he doesn’t really see the one he’s with as being the woman of his dreams.

Now, for the guys, one of the keys has been telling your woman that you don’t want to be with the other girl. You’ll only actually be with your woman, and she’ll be the only one touched by the other chick. Of course this is the same guy that told you he was just going to cuddle with you in bed that first night. He also swore he’d pull out before he came in your mouth.

I know there are some people thinking: “Hey, I’m a swinger. What the fuck do you know?” Well, I have never been a swinger, so I don’t know what goes through your head. I have known several swingers though, and every single one of them was in a fucked up relationship. A swinger couple once told me that they were “monogamous” but they “just fuck other people”. By that standard I’m a virgin. Not even one of those born again virgins. I am just a virgin who has had sex.

The swinger couples I knew were universally unhappy. They always denied it, but they hated each other. The only time they were ever together was when they were fucking (whether it was just the 2 of them or a whole crowd). I like fucking too, but I generally try to marry a woman I can stand when she has her clothes on. And I don’t mean a French maid outfit. I should amend that. The one time I got married we could hang out without fucking, and she didn’t even have a French maid outfit. She may have one now, but I don’t know. It’s also not the kind of thing we talk about anymore. I bet her new husband would get mad if I asked. I bet he’d get even madder if I bought her one.

OK. That’s all I have for the night. I was going to explain how the appointment of a new Fed Chairman is going to lead to the legalization of prostitution in 3 states, even naming the states, but maybe I can do that tomorrow.

OK, here’s the deal. Today I am going to start blogging in the morning and just write what comes to my mind. Not one of those constant running things where I tell you what I am doing at various points during the day. Not even one where I jot down my various thoughts during the day. Instead I am going to start early so maybe I can get done before midnight tonight.

I have to admit people confuse me. There are still people who come here every day even though they absolutely hate me, or at least think they hate me based on what they read. I can understand people that deal with someone or something they hate because they have to to get something else they like. I don’t understand people that read this just because they hate it. Maybe, without knowing it, I am writing an S&M blog. They come here because they are masochists and I give them their daily fix. That would make me a sadist I guess, which in itself is odd because given my tendency to share embarrassing stories that would make me a masochist. Maybe I am just writing an M blog.

Oh, by the way, Team Wilco has called a temporary truce against their plagiarist. It seems he apologized and everything. Of course the only reason he apologized is because Team Wilco readers were leaving shitty comments on his friends’ blogs.

I was somewhat confused by their response though. They didn’t agree that their friend was a douche. No, they have come to his defense with 2 rather bizarre arguments. First, they say it is his blog and he can steal from whomever he chooses. Second, they say that what he stole sucked anyway. For me, I wouldn’t want those as my defenses. First, you just can’t win many friends saying it’s OK to copy someone else’s work, call it your own, and bathe in the compliments. Maybe that kind of thing flies if you are a linebacker at OU, but in the rarefied air of blogdom, it’s just wrong. Second, and this is key, if you say what he stole sucked, you are not only agreeing he is a thief; you are saying he is not even smart enough to steal anything good.

I could have understood their saying they were pissed because they were getting trashed for something he did. I don’t get defending it or saying he was a plagiarist who has no taste. That confuses me. Then again, taking calls on a podcast confuses me too, since it’s not like it is actually being broadcast live anywhere.

Anyway, now there are threats of violence being thrown around. I can’t condone this violence. I say that for legal reasons. I don’t want to get sued because some dumbfuck decides to take a baseball bat to some other dumbfuck. I actually find violence very entertaining in general. I am particularly fond of midget boxing and lemur sword fights.

There is something else I don’t quite get. (Well, more than one thing, but only one I will mention right now.) I have already mentioned how every guy in personal ads claims to be a fireman. And, of course, that is clearly bullshit. The firehouse next to my son’s school is small enough it fits in the base of a water tower. Unless there even more hidden firehouses I don’t know about, clearly lots of these guys are lying. It’s pretty fucking obvious to me that the guys have noticed that women have an unnatural attraction to firemen, so they say they are a fireman to get some. And it is such an easy job to fake, because the schedules are so screwed up. Hell, it even makes cheating easier because you can just claim you had to spend the night at the station. But the women have their equivalent. All the women in the personals are bi.

I am sure there are a lot of bi women out there. I think it makes more sense for a woman to be bi than a guy, because women tend to be either more attracted to each other, or at least more willing to admit it, than guys are. But I am having a hard time believing that that many of them are really bi. You think maybe the women read those polls that say that guys fantasize about 2 chicks together are following the same strategy as the multitude of firemen?

The thing that confuses me is that guys are saying they’re firemen to get laid. Why the fuck are the women saying they’re bi? It really is not that hard for a woman to get laid. And these are not ugly women. Surely they don’t think this is the way to land a guy who wants more than sex. Basically they are saying that there is a chance, if you date them that you will at very least get to see them with another chick, and you may even get to join in. There isn’t much other reason to point out you are bi in an ad targeting men. I mean, I can see it if you are targeting women because they may not like you wanting to be with a guy. But when you say it to a guy you are not doing it as a warning. Well, maybe you are, but it’s generally a dumb warning. Kinda like “warning” a guy that you are extremely hot, really rich and can get him free beer.

Maybe I am just way out of touch. Maybe half of the men in this country are firemen and half of the women are bi. Maybe the other half of the men are bi, and the other women are firemen. Hell, maybe I am the only person in America that isn’t a bi firefighter. I have noticed there aren’t any houses burning down around me, so they seem to be doing a good job. I mean as firemen. I have no knowledge of how good they are doing at being bi, but that would seem to be the easier of the 2 jobs. They both have their challenges I am sure.

Regardless of the sexual practices of the fire fighter community, I think something is off with guys that slide down poles after about age 10.

Well, the day is done. It’s dark outside, and this entry is all wrapped up. So I am going to wrap it up and say that no man is an island, but that guy at Taco Cabana sure is getting close.

You know, many times people come up to me and ask: “Excuse me, but how do you keep your girlish figure?” Then I turn to my friend J and say “You fucker! I told you to stop taking me to gay bars!”

Reading the comments from yesterday something really struck me. Someone likes reading my blog because they can enjoy the drama of my life from a safe distance. What makes that amazing to me is that this is not drama. Right now is about the calmest time I have had in my life. Right now the only people making demands on my time are my boss and my son. I have nobody lying to me or stealing from me. I don’t have anyone cheating on me or using me. It’s weird.

But the shit that is happening (exes coming out of the woodwork mostly) is still more drama than a lot of people are used to. While I don’t want any more of the type of bullshit I saw the last couple of weeks (the exes, not the home improvements) I have to admit that I am borderline bored.

I am trying to figure out how I can manage to have more excitement without drama. It’s hard really, being short, fat and dickless. People like me really don’t have many ways to have fun beyond plucking nosehairs and trying to find a woman to shave our backs. But, as the most bitter nutbag in blog business, I am sure I will figure something out.

Actually, that title bugs me. Not because it offends me. I would really like being the most bitter person in blogging. There are millions of these fuckers, and being number one in anything like that would be a real accomplishment. Hell, even being the worst speller in blogging would take some serious work.

But it bugs me because I know it is hollow flattery. I can think of several people whose blogs much more bitter and negative than mine. Some of them got that way because of some tough shit in life. Some of them just seem to have a natural talent for being pissed off at the world. I usually have to have a trigger though. So I’m not really a natural at it. But I will work hard to live up to the honor that has been bestowed on me.

I refuse, however, to discuss being bloated or crampy.

Damn. Now I totally lost my flow. I admit it was a few hours ago I wrote the first part, but I am totally not feeling it. I can’t even put my finger on what it was. Granted there are some negative things going around, and that kind of brings me down, but they don’t really involve me, or shouldn’t. I also doubt it was the unexpected, and frankly un-requested, automatic reminder of an exes upcoming birthday. (I am kind of wondering who signed me up for those automatic reminders, because I sure as fuck don’t want them.) And I find it most odd that I try to update the account so I don’t get them in the future and not only can’t I update it, they say they don’t recognize the email address they just sent shit to.

I also don’t think the mood change was caused by the announcement that our city has been cursed with David Lee Roth as a replacement for Howard Stern. I am not saying I will miss Stern because I won’t. To me radio during the day is background noise since I work alone. If I have talkers on, it’s like having people working around me. But I was hoping for someone who doesn’t sound like they actually come down when they are using coke. Most radio shows try to sound so fucking cheerful. This is especially true of shows with a cast. I like a show where there are several voices, none of them sound like they are seconds away from a giggling fit and where the content has no substance that might actually capture my attention for longer than 2 minutes. I just want the background noise.

Now I will have to find something new. I can handle stupid, but stupid and hyper is just too much. I was kind of hoping for Adam Corolla. I have seen his TV show, so I know he can be boring enough to fit the bill. And heaven knows the man does not have a voice that conveys any type of excitement. The guy, even at his best, always sounds like he’s just there for the paycheck (which, by the way, is exactly what I have heard about him).  But instead we have a man who has been conned in to believing that crystal meth is a nutritional supplement.

But there are always things to take joy in. In this case, it is a movie description I came across:

“A priest (Donald Pleasence) summons a professor (Victor Wong) to an old church to see a canister of liquid Satan.”

OK, so I didn’t actually watch the movie. I tried. I even made it through about 3 minutes. But I didn’t see any liquid Satan. All I saw was a bunch of dumbfucks sitting around a table wondering if all of the fucked up shit that seemed to have them scared to death had something to do with the canister in the basement. Now, for me, I would always operate on the assumption that anything bad happening in my life had something to do with the canister of liquid Satan in the basement. That is if I had a canister of liquid Satan and a basement, of which I have neither.

Personally I would assume that liquid Satan was actually Goldschlager, and I wouldn’t touch the shit. I also wouldn’t call in priests. Hazmat maybe, but not priests. Maybe strippers. I hear they like Goldschlager.

I feel a little guilty. Having 3 blogs has meant 2 of them get neglected lately. I kind of promised I’d always write in this one, so it always goes first if I have to choose which one to write in. That kind of sucks because sometimes the funnier ideas would be for the other blog. But the people that read this have been a shitload more loyal. People that like to laugh at my tragic relationships and bleeding hands are more likely to return than those who want to join a cult or laugh at the dorkiest personal ads on the net.

I do have to say that I am amazed at the power of blogs though. Just as mentioning certain lies told by a certain person caused me to start getting calls for that person, pointing out how stupid that was under the circumstances seems to have stopped the calls. Of course it is also possible that Heather showing up did that. When this person and I broke up it was tough because of all the bullshit. And there were issues to take care of. During that time is when Heather first started calling again.

Of course that created drama, like it was some sort of huge fucking conspiracy. First, I have no control over which crazy ex is going to decide to pop up when. Second, why exactly would I need a conspiracy to break up with someone that was a pathological liar? Even if secretly I had done it to get back with Heather, I still had a good fucking reason or twelve. Plus, Heather popped up like 3 weeks later, and was in another fucking state. If it was a huge game I am not going to dump someone here for someone 1,500 miles away, unless it was Charlize Theron. Of course part of that is because she is hot, and the other part is that she could afford to fly me to wherever she was.

One of my favorite blogs, Team Wilco had some excitement of their own. It seems a certain local dickhead was posting copies of their posts as if they were his own. Team Wilco gets mentioned a lot on The Pugs and Kelly Show, because the two guys that write it are friends of the show. Hell, one of them writes a blog for the show, the other was an intern. Seems this shitheads heard about their blog on the show and decided he could copy it and people outside Dallas would never know. But, obviously, people did find out.

So here is what happened. First, Will posted about the guy’s bullshit on the blog, including posting his MSN ID and a link to the blog (where Will had made some nice comments). The guy responded by deleting his blog and he has another one, which is now also linked on Team Wilco, so their fans can now comment on anything he writes. (For the record, he has got to have one of the most boring blogs on the planet. If he were to just tell us what he ate every day it would be more interesting.) Then Will sent emails to Pugs and Kelly about what had happened, so they mentioned it, including his name and what town he lives in, on the show.

Now, I don’t know what exactly he can expect from the readers of the blog or the listeners to the show, but I imagine he is getting really reamed. I would think that getting ragged out by name on the number one midday show in Dallas has got to be pretty fucking embarrassing. (I say that not to flatter them but because the ratings back it up.) And I have hung out with both Will and Paco, and have met some of their friends and some fans of the show. I can see this getting pretty ugly for the guy.

Personally, I think it’s funny as hell (the asskicking, not the plagiarism). If you read the blogs I link to you might have seen the drama of a guy that built himself up to be a huge stud, used his blog to get laid, and then got bitchslapped when it turned out he was a liar and a cheat. I mean, personally I go on the assumption that I don’t have any “fans”. There are people that read this shit every day, but I think most of them just like the reminder that things can be much worse.

One thing I wonder though is how the regular readers of a blog would feel if they found out they are being played. What if you followed a blog religiously and then found out someone else wrote it and the guy you had been following just copied it? What if the sex machine you drooled over turned out to be a pudgy guy with a small dick, a lousy job and a nasty habit of threatening women with violence and/or lawsuits when he got outed? Hello, for the 3 guys that read my blog, what if the Hottie you have been worshiping turned out to be Roseanne’s older, fatter, sister or, even worse brother?

People get really involved in some of this shit. I have seen people just go apeshit over stuff online. At first I thought it was funny. Then I thought it was kind of scary. Then I realized I was right and it was funny.

Now, I can honestly say that I have one of the safest blogs on the planet. While there are people who still assume the stories I told at first were all just an effort to try out stories for a forthcoming novel, for the most part people are realistic. Nobody would continually tell stories that, at best, make him look like a total fucking idiot, and at worst make him look like a sex crazed total fucking idiot. Well, maybe if they were making a lot of money, but I don’t make shit doing this. I also have never gotten laid as a result of my blog. I believe this is because anyone that reads my blog and thinks to themselves “This is a guy I want to fuck” probably has the potential to end up the subject of a post.

On another note, I think I am going to stop watching ultimate fighting. With there penchant for extremely short, extremely tight, shorts, and their tendency to get down on the mat and wrap their legs around each other, it kind of feels like I’m watching some particularly violent gay S&M porn.

Have you ever had something just stuck in your mind and you can’t figure out why? What I am talking about is an observation that means something to you, and your mind just holds on to this detail. You don’t know why you are holding on to this fact, but you are. And your mind just keeps popping this little observation in to your thoughts for some reason.

I had one of those, and it is one of the reasons Heather kept popping in my mind. In some ways this was good because it reminded me to lock the door frequently, but that wasn’t the point of the observation. I kept remembering that she had a couple of new tattoos. It wasn’t the subjects of the tattoos so much as the fact that she had them at all. I knew that they meant something.

I realized today why that observation matters: Heather has Hepatitis-C.

When she and I were together she got very sick and was in a great deal of pain. We went to a doctor and were immediately sent to the emergency room. There, after a whole night of tests we learned…nothing. However she remained sick, the medicines they gave her achieved nothing and the pain got so intense that we again had to go to the emergency room. This time we drove past the first hospital to go to one we hoped would handle things better. And while it took a few days for the test results, the doctor quickly determined she likely had Hepatitis-C.

I think her illness, despite the fact I know how she got it, really played in to the whole messed up nature of the relationship. I already felt that I was being given a chance to help someone in a terrible situation, so her serious illness made it possible for me to further convince myself this was karma giving me a chance to get things back in balance. In a way I guess it was, because getting some serious negative does come after you dish it out.

Now, I am willing to bet that she didn’t mention to the guy or guys that gave her these tattoos that she had Hepatitis-C. I have tattoos, so I know how you are supposed to take certain precautions, but that doesn’t change the fact that you are dealing with needles and blood, and there is a real risk. Hell, they are doing research now that indicates that tattoos spread hepatitis more than IV drug use (which is how she got it).

Sure, whoever gave her the tattoos is responsible for taking care of themselves, but am I wrong to think that people with diseases spread by blood should avoid doing things where there is a reasonable possibility of their blood getting on someone else? When she and I split up I made it a point to get tested for everything under the sun twice before I touched anybody else. I was clean, thank God, but what she and I did was considered low risk and I took the slim chances knowingly. The guy that got the $100 for the tat probably had no idea what he was risking.

I am not saying that she knowingly put the guy at risk. I say this not to excuse her, but because I doubt she even thought about it. In fact, I bet she doesn’t give her Hepatitis a second though. I know she didn’t mention it to me at any point in the last 6 months. But it does show me that she hasn’t changed a bit. I had some doubts, obviously. Not enough to give her a chance, but enough to just wonder. This answered my question.

It is a good thing I don’t have Hepatitis though, because I would have to burn that fucking table if I did.

I really have no news. I am sleepy though. So while this is brief, it is a post, and that is all I promised.

I have no idea what to write about, so I intend to ramble.

First, and I believe this sincerely, the best magazine to read while taking a shit is GQ. I mean for guys. I am not sure for girls as I have a penis and not a vagina.

GQ is great because even when they are talking about a fairly serious subject, they never get so in-depth that there’s a problem picking the story back up the next time you have to take a dump. Now, the first time with a new GQ blows because you spend the whole time going through the ads in the front of the magazine until you find where they are actually writing something. In fact, while I know the advertisers pay a premium for those ads, I have to tell them that those are the ads you can guarantee I will never read. I used to seriously consider boycotting anyone that advertises in front of the table of contents, but decided against it after looking to see who advertises there. I actually like some of those designers. I am not going to perform a boycott that hurts me.

The only problem with GQ is that they have a nasty tendency to send in writers that have a crush on the guy they are interviewing. A few months ago they had a guy interviewing Brad Pitt and I actually felt dirty reading it. If the guy didn’t offer to suck Brad’s cock I would be very surprised. This month they have the kind of interview I like though, because I don’t think the writer has a crush on Phillip Seymour Hoffman. He might, but so far it hasn’t come out. The crush I mean, not his penis.

Don’t get me wrong. I actually like Brad Pitt. I think he has probably got some incurable disease now that he’s been with Angelina Jolie, but that’s his problem. I also think she’ll dump him, because that’s what she does. That is also his problem. But he does seem about as normal as you can be when you have been voted the Sexiest Man in the World and are fucking the woman voted the Sexiest Woman in the World. But how many times do we really want to hear about how attractive Brad is in an interview? I really don’t think the kind words in GQ are going to get him to dump Angelina for the guy writing the story. I could be wrong though.

I tried a new bathroom magazine this week called Cargo, and it really doesn’t work for me. They have some cool shit in there, and I really want to buy most of it, but it needs a little more substance. And I have to say that Andy Roddick is pretty fucking boring. I mean the guy had the creativity to start selling blue rubber bracelets for his charity. I wonder where he got such a wild idea? Plus, anyone dumb enough to let them dress him in a pastel plaid sweater vest is hardly someone I want to know about.

In other news, I have rediscovered an important fact about my life. It is impossible for me to undertake any home improvement project without blood being shed. For the record, it is always my blood. But there has to be blood. In this case I am refinishing a table. It should have been simple. I got the painting part done with no problem and no blood. Then I went to the next step…

This particular table has a ceramic tile top. It happened to be a very country white tile with white and pinewood. That is not my style though. I hate country style furniture. I have been working to get rid of the evil country influences in my house since the divorce. This was one of the last steps. So my play was simple. I paint the table a mahogany brown and replace the tiles with something less white.

So I get the chisel and hammer out and start prying out the old tiles. At this point I discover they are cemented in with what appears to be some space age polymer designed to prevent removal. Unlike the tiles on the space shuttle though, these do not come off. That’s not quite right. They do come off. They just tend to shatter and leave razor sharp shards that fly all over the room and somehow have sliced my hands in about 30 places. There are literally bloodstains all over the table at this point. I am fond of the color red. My poolroom is red. But I really don’t think blood is an appropriate coloring agent for my kitchen table.

And think…I only have 60% more of the tiles to remove.

Oh, and I just discovered the shattered tile pieces are on the floor as well. This was accomplished by walking through the kitchen with bare feet. I am going to need more band-aids. So, I will run tithe store. Later I will return with a hopefully somewhat entertaining post. If I don’t, assume I bled to death.

The kids wore my ass out. My son is finally asleep and now it's my turn.

I'll write twice tomorrow.

I have to explain something.

There is a reason I write about things like strippers. They are just interesting. I don’t mean interesting as in the perfect kind of woman interesting, but interesting because the whole situation really kind of represents people at their worst.

On one hand, if you talk to them, they claim that they like the power over the men. To a degree, I understand how they feel that way. The guys will fight for the right to give them a dollar. I have actually seen guys fight over who was next at the tip rail. Personally I always found that hilarious. Then again, as long as I’m not involved I think most bar fights are hilarious. The combination of testosterone, women and alcohol brings out the idiot in guys.

But, when you get right down to it, they really aren’t in charge. First, you have to look what most of them have to do for their money. Maybe they are just really comfortable being naked or something, but they have to basically act like sluts to get paid. They have to dance for guys that they wouldn’t even make eye contact otherwise. And I know there are clubs in the country where there is no touching, but most of them have a lot more contact than people tend to admit. Honestly, most guys will not pay much to watch a girl dance six feet away. In those circumstances porn is much more cost-effective.

Even worse, all the people calling the shots at strip clubs are guys. They make the rules about when the girls get to dance. They decide if you get the good shifts. The managers, DJ’s, male bartenders and bar backs are all there specifically to get at the girls. I do not know a guy who has worked at a club that wasn’t regularly banging the girls. I also do not know a dancer who hasn’t had to at very least deal with the guys trying to get with them, and frankly I think even the ones that said they’d never dated a male club employee were lying (based on their tendency to lie about things like that).

Ultimately, the guys who run the club and the guys with the money are in charge. And they really aren’t great guys.

But strip clubs are a lot of fun because you get to see people at their worst, but in a safe environment. I imagine there are better places to see this shit, but I tend to avoid crack houses, and if I want to see what happens in a whorehouse I’ll watch HBO (even though I hope for his sake Dennis Hof has hotter women than the one’s on Cathouse, because otherwise he’s destined for bankruptcy).

Now, on to other stuff.

Let me preface this next part by explaining once again that I have a radio in the shower that I will not change the station on because it is a pain in the ass. That means that if I take a late shower, like I did tonight, Tom Leykis is on if I turn it on.

Normally I don’t agree with Tom because I do actually do try to do things besides getting laid. In fact, I really don’t put much effort in to getting sex. I talk about it a lot, but that is just because it is a fun subject.

But, tonight, Tom was spot on. He was talking to a girl that had gotten pregnant by her drug dealing meathead boyfriend. Her call was wondering whether or not she should tell him he’s the dad, but that isn’t where he was right.

He asked her the very good question about why she was even dating a guy that was a drug dealing methhead. She explained that she had been like him, but had changed, and she believed him when he said he had changed too. But Tom’s reply was that he didn’t believe she had changed.

While she is not doing drugs anymore, he said he thinks her real problem is that she makes bad decisions. Doing drugs was a bad decision. When she got off drugs she just made different bad decisions. While he was kind of harsh, his point was that people that make bad decisions tend to keep making them. When they fix one problem they replace it with another bad decision. In other words, they always have problems; they just keep getting new ones.

I think that is the category I am in. I keep making the wrong decisions when it comes to relationships. I can’t say that I have broken up with good women to date the wrong women, but I may have never given good women a chance. It’s like there is something in me looking for the wrong people. I was thinking maybe I should just do the opposite of what I think I should do, but to do that I have to do what I think I would do to start with, which would be the wrong thing.

So I think I’ll just become a crack head.

Tonight’s entry is destined to suck.

With all the trouble I have been having focusing enough to write and I start at about 10:30 on a night I have to get to bed. I also have nothing on my mind. Well, not nothing.
I am going to tell you a subject that came up when I talked to Heather. It’s one that pissed her off. She’s really easy to piss off, so that’s not an accomplishment or anything.

I went from being willing to date strippers, to being willing to date former strippers to not being willing to date strippers, former strippers or those considering stripping. I don’t even think I would date a girl who has stripped the finish off old furniture. I have developed my First Law of Dating Strippers, and I think everyone should live and learn it:

There is no such thing as an ex-stripper.

There are 2 separate areas of this. The first has to do with the attitude. I believe sincerely that strippers don’t ever truly abandon the attitude they have as strippers. If they are hustlers looking for a buck (as the vast majority are) they will maintain that attitude in other relationships given the opportunity. In other words, if you treat them nice they will see it as weakness and see what they can get from you. I have dated 3 strippers and one girl who was considering being a stripper (and she easily could have) and 3 of the 4 I treated extremely well and got taken. The degrees varied, of course, but they were the same.

The other girl, however, falls in to the other category of stripper. These are girls that became strippers for the money but kept doing it because they craved the attention. Typically these are the girls that don’t see themselves as pretty. Getting all the attention they get as a stripper is intoxicating. They thrive on the affirmation. The problem with them is that they tend to fall for the flattery very easily, and even if they don’t cheat, they do tend to do things that are real stressful in a relationship. This is particularly true with me because I am fucking paranoid.

The other reason there is no such thing as an ex-stripper is that they tend to go back to it as long as they can when things get tight. We all go through periods when we are broke. I know I had a terrible drought. I spent a shitload of time trying to figure out what to do. But the strippers I have known tended to immediately look at going back to the clubs, and usually do. So when a girl tells you she is an ex-dancer there is good reason to assume she could end up dancing again. That is, of course, unless you are going to fund her whenever cash gets tight, which gets back to the first of the 2 types of strippers.

Naturally this made Heather mad because she was a stripper at one point (well before we met). She claims she was only stripping for 2 weeks and left because it just wasn’t for her. Of course the number of guys she has had sex with also went up by one every time she mentioned it. Now, I have to preface the next part with a disclaimer: I do not trust Heather’s mother. Personally I think she is the one that taught Heather to use people as much as possible. Her mom has done some good things, but she also seems like a user. But she told me that there was a period in which Heather was basically homeless and her mom is convinced she did whatever it took to survive at that point. I am guessing any guys she slept with during that period don’t count in her book. I also assume that the two-week figure is a rather conservative estimate.

Well, she got mad because she insisted she’d never strip again. Rather than fight with her I told her that perhaps she might have fallen in to the “doing it for the positive attention” category. Plus I made up a subset of the rule that excuses women that try it out and then realize it was a huge mistake and quit. That is not to say I actually believe those addenda. Maybe they are true, but she sure seems like a hustler for one thing, and I kind of think most women know what stripping is about before they do it.

Now, there are guys who like to date strippers, have nothing that the stripper wants and in fact are using the girl. These guys tend to treat the girl like shit, cheat on her, spend her money and move on to a younger stripper when they get the chance. I don’t expect a guy like that to follow my rule because he isn’t getting played the way I am talking about. Hell, if the girl cheats on him it’s kind of hard for him to complain since he’s no better. But I have some words for those guys that do fit this description but expect their girl to be true to them.

You’re an idiot.

If the girl is making a lot of money, there are generally 2 ways they make it. The first is the hustler that plays with the pathetic guys so they think they have a chance and keep paying, just hoping today will be the day. These guys essentially are dating your girl without leaving the club. If you don’t have a problem with your guy playing that game, then you are pretty pathetic. If you like several guys having your chick’s cell number, you need help.

The second kind of girl that really makes big money is basically a hooker. I know Chris Rock says that there is no sex in the Champagne Room. He’s lying. It is possible he is a total idiot and just throws his money away, but he seems smart enough. I think he’s saying what he needs to say to be allowed to keep going to the clubs without getting in trouble with the wife. I will tell you, without question there are girls that will do things in a strip club that most women don’t do at home. I can’t say I have ever benefited from their friendly nature, but I know a shitload of guys who have. I once knew a guy who got a blowjob in a club and then, while sitting with the girl, she told him that one of the other dancers was actually a hooker and even advertised on an adult website. She didn’t take it well when he looked at her and asked, “How does that differ from what we just did?”

See, there are a small number of girls at a small number of clubs that make a shitload of money without doing anything people might question beyond getting somewhat naked. But most of the ladies that make a lot of cash do it as scam artists or prostitutes. I am not going to judge them for that, because I am not on their situation. But I’m also not going to date one.

I might bang one though, as long as it’s not in the club and it’s a freebie.

I am going to start writing earlier today. At the rate I am writing lately I might have a decent entry in about 8 hours.

In the past 2 days I have had both the carpet cleaning guy and the bug guy in my house. I have come to a conclusion. I don’t like workers in my house. It’s not that I feel superior to them or anything. But their jobs are really not that interesting to me. In general I don’t discuss my job with people outside the industry because it’s boring. Carpets and bugs are no less boring. I mean, maybe if the bug guy just came from a house with a giant spider that tried to eat him. That would be interesting. But I bet you get the rest of the day off after that.

I have the same problem with people that cut hair. With them they seem to like to talk about their husbands and boyfriends. Having worked in a job where I was the only guy, I understand that is what they talk to each other about, but I have to admit, I don’t care. Hell, if the chick cutting my hair is hot I’d like to at least pretend to myself I have a shot with her. Granted, I never even came close to asking one of them out, but that doesn’t change the fact I’d like to pretend.

It’s kind of like strippers that insist on telling you about their husband, boyfriend and/or kids. That kind of ruins the fantasy. I assume strippers do it because they want to kind of warn you off, but I have to explain something: guys do not care. It’s not just that most guys will bang a hot chick under any circumstances. It’s the fact that we really don’t have any respect for a guy that has a stripper for a girlfriend. I can’t tell you how many times I have heard a guy ask a stripper “Then what are you doing here?” There is something in guys that tells them that a chick that gets naked for other guys is not that committed to her relationship for some reason.

I also have been thinking about a comment on yesterday’s blog. It was pointed out perhaps I need to leave my exes in the past. Trust me when I say that I would love to. But I am still getting calls for that ex that gets calls from the tanning salon. Today it was a call from someone wanting to know if this was the number for her company. As far as I know the company only exists in her mind. I can say I never saw any indications the company actually does anything. I saw her supposedly working, but there wasn’t ever a dime that came in.

The thing is, I know she knows about the blog. I post something that tells a story that is something she did (leaving out some very unflattering details), without using her name, mentioning where we met, saying when we dated or even giving anything that would be a clue to people that really know me who she is, and suddenly I am getting calls for her? It could be an amazing coincidence. It could be karma. But I get the feeling that this is her way of expressing displeasure.

But, I really don’t have any guilt here. I didn’t lie about anything. I could have been a real dick and told the whole story including dates and names. That would have been the real dick move. I admit that I know how to be a dick. Hell, I have admitted here many times that I have been a real piece of shit at times. But I generally do the right thing now. And this time I don’t think mentioning these things the way I did was wrong.

The scary thing is that she could actually be giving guys this number, claiming it’s hers. She has a history of saying things that aren’t true, as I mentioned. It goes back to childhood according to her mother. Honestly I think she has told some lies so often she started to believe them.

So, really, I can’t put them behind me. They won’t let me. Plus, I can’t let my guard down. I know I sound paranoid, but when you hear from 3 in a few days, you realize you are just dealing with people that don’t let go. It sucks because I do have an obsessive personality. But just when I start to think they will be gone, they come back. Hell, I was having trouble writing about the stuff most of you like to read because nothing was coming to mind. They took care of that writer’s block.

OK, I said it would take 8 hours. We are past hour 9 right now. Granted I was gone a long time, but jeez. Maybe I should just fill this with exciting tails of my trip to the doctor (nurse was cute but married). The trip to the pharmacy (oddly, the pharmacist is gay but clearly has a “type” in women because the 5 employees under him were virtually identical. There was the excitement of moving the old grill and smoker to the curb for the trash man (cast iron smokers big enough for 2 turkeys are fucking heavy). Oh, and there is the cream from the pharmacy that has to be applied head to toe because my damn dog gave me mites (no I didn’t beat the dog).

I also could warn you, blogging may be interrupted or brief this weekend. Not only do I have my son, it’s the weekend of his birthday party. So I get to go to Chuck E Cheese on Saturday. Then, later that night, we have a Halloween party. In between the kids will, of course, be playing with the new toys. I plan on spending much of the weekend curled up in to a ball and crying. OK, not really, but 2 multi-hour sessions with hyper kids fueled by cake is a frightening prospect. I am amazed at the noise a herd of 6 and 7 year-olds can make. In college I went to many concerts, including Metallica/Guns n Roses, and the kids are louder. They are less likely to refuse to perform, sparking a riot, but they do make more noise.

Maybe if we had a metal detector at the door…

Jesus. Make 18 porn movies and sleep with half the graduating class of a dental hygienist school and suddenly people think you’re a slut! OK, just kidding.

I am trying to figure out what I did that has kept Heather from bugging me. It could be telling her I was broke (a lie) and not giving her what she wanted. It could be my repeated reminders that I didn’t trust her and had good reason not to. There is the fact I made excuses why I couldn’t see her again that night and the following day. Could be that I told her that even if I somehow managed to get past everything with her, there is no way I would ever be willing to put up with people she has to keep around her. It could be that my ability to totally resist her convinced her that her time was wasted trying to manipulate me. Hell, maybe she just isn’t in to me anymore.

Whatever it is, I have had total peace the last couple of days. She hasn’t called, emailed or messaged. I have not heard a word from her. Of course I expect that to change eventually. When she gets desperate she’ll work her way down the list of guys she thinks she can get something out of and eventually come to my name. Hopefully by then I will have a new number and she won’t have access to a computer. That will keep her from finding my work number immediately and from messaging me. Maybe she’ll tap some other guy in the mean time.

In the mean time, life goes on. Unfortunately I got more evidence that I am a complete and total idiot. No, it doesn’t involve a crazy woman. It’s something more basic idiocy. I was baking some bread last night in the bread maker. But I had started it too late, and it wasn’t going to be done until close to 1AM. Needless to say, I was tired when it was finally done. So I went straight to bed. But, and this is why I am an idiot, I had forgotten to not only make the bed after washing the sheets, I had forgotten to put them in the dryer. So, at 1AM, faced with either waiting for the sheets I like, using the sheets I don’t or sleeping without them…I went straight to bed.

This raises a question I truly want an answer to: Why the fuck is it so much hotter under the comforter without the sheets?

As if there weren’t enough psycho exes’s to deal with, I got a call from a tanning parlor asking for the last one. Why she gave them my number is beyond me. Hell, when we were together she never went to the tanning parlor. She did use a fake tanner, but no salon. So, given that last week brought 2 exes, I immediately got paranoid. Plus, the guy acted like he knew her and also seemed to want to talk, which kind of creeped me out. Given that she was one of those whose lies got mentioned in the last post, I found the timing odd.

But, to be honest, I’m not really scared. There used to only be 2 people that scared me. Now there’s just one. And neither she nor this guy is that person.

Man, I have been writing this since 9 and haven’t written shit. I better go to bed. Maybe I will write extra tomorrow. Then again, may be not.

OK, I was watching the History Channel this evening. Now, personally I think they should just call it the Nazi Germany Channel and get it over with. So far I have seen “Hitler’s Women”, “Hitler’s Generals” and “Hitler’s Managers”. I am looking forward to the series “Hitler’s Proctologists” and “Hitler’s Dry Cleaners”. The point of the story is not that Hitler was on TV though. No, it was something that was said by a Russian.

This particular series is called “Hitler’s War”. Specifically, this was about the end of the war in the fall of Berlin. It wasn’t even really about Hitler. Hell, I only heard his name once. What it was really about was what it was like for the German people as Berlin fell. For those who are not students of history, the Allies agreed to let the Russians take Berlin. And anyone who thinks it wasn’t to let them get revenge is on crack.

Anyway, as Berlin is falling the Russians did what they always did. They sent out teams of political officers to educate the citizens. Basically, that means they sent in their professional liars. The lie in this case was that they hadn’t come for revenge they had come to liberate. People would not be arrested, sent to Siberia or shot. In short, the Russians were the friends of the Germans.

Meanwhile, an estimated 130,000 women were raped by Russian soldiers in Berlin alone. I must have missed the part where liberation included rape.

The point of this post isn’t to attack the Russians or defend the Germans though. Instead, it is about lies. It has been said that it is best to lie big and repeat it often. Heaven knows that, in my experience, there are people who live by this credo. So, in no particular order, here are the biggest lies that come to mind.

1. I have only slept with 7 guys.

Anyone that has read here long knows that I have a simple rule. I will neither ask nor answer this question. Everyone assumes the answer is a lie, and even if it isn’t I swear there is no good answer. If you have slept with just a few people you are either lying or a dork. If you slept with a ton you are either a slut or lying to look like a stud. But I had an ex that seemed to feel the need to convince me of her relative purity. So she told me whom she had slept with. Where the lie comes in, however, is that she brought the subject up on more than one occasion, and every time the number went up by one. By the time we broke up it was at 13. So, either she had been lying, or the number was going up while we dated.

1. I was engaged once a couple of years ago

This story I have told before. I was dating a girl that told me she had been engaged but broke it off. One night, after feeling guilty because I was really nice to her, she confessed that she had actually been married, but her father got it annulled (he was a judge) when it didn’t work out. For anyone unsure on the concept, annulment may mean you were never legally married, but you were married. It still counts.

1. I was married, but it was annulled after 2 weeks

This was actually a different ex. In this case I was dating a woman who had been married to an abusive man. I am always really open about the fact I was married and have a kid. So she told me about her marital past. She said she had been living with the guy for a long time and they just decided to get married, even though he was an abuser. But she knew it was a mistake and had it annulled. Well, after we broke up I spoke to her mother. It turns out not only hadn’t there been an annulment, they were still married. After we got together she had filed for divorce, but it still wasn’t finalized. In fact, she had bailed him out of jail only 6 weeks before we started dating. I guess we could add the lie “I’m single” to this list.

1. My mother has terminal cancer that could be cured, but she refuses to have it treated

This would be the same ex. She had made a great fuss about how she had moved in with her mother because of her illness. She would tell about how she would help her mother with the nightly IV’s and generally taking care of her, as she was too ill to take care of herself. The thing is, mom didn’t have, and had never had, cancer. In fact, mom said she moved in and slept on the couch because she didn’t have anywhere else to go.

1. I’m married, but in name only. My husband and I just don’t divorce for the kid’s sake

This one was a good one. This was before my rule about separated, but I have to admit it was dumb anyway. Basically I was told that she and her husband lived together, but weren’t acting like a married couple. Now there was an understanding we needed to be discrete, and I was OK with that. But I was being discrete because of the kids. She had another reason. In the course of our conversations I discovered that they were actually still having sex. Being told she didn’t enjoy it and that she thought of me didn’t exactly make that any better to hear. Regardless, that was a good way to learn the lesson. And it did end without any real issues beyond the normal psycho chick reactions.

So, there you have it. 5 of the biggest lies I have been told by women I was involved with. I wish I had some lies from guys, but except for that one guy who won’t admit he’s gay and has a crush on me, my guy friends are pretty honest. Well, they’re honest with me. I think they may lie to their chicks.

I had forgotten what it was like to have a psycho ex in town. When I had a thieving crazy ex, I had to make sure my doors were locked when I was asleep or left. Not that big a deal. But with a psycho ex you have to have them locked all the time. Add in the fact the ex has an ex that owes me money, and I can’t decide if I have crossed the line from careful to paranoid. Regardless, my doors are always locked and I get nervous when the doorbell rings.

Making matters worse, just having been with her I feel dirty. It’s hard to explain, but I went from extremely horny to feeling like sex is the vilest thing someone can do. I can only imagine what I’d feel like if she’d spent the night with me. I do hope this feeling passes though because I am normally rather fond of sex, and having my stomach churn when I think about it is not very pleasant.

OK, so what do I write about today? There is no end of things. Not that anything interesting happened today, but lots of shit comes to mind.

I guess I will start with a really bizarre dream I had.

First, let me explain something. In my job I am sometimes required to go and check out property my bank is considering lending on. I have to take pictures of the properties, which means wandering around with a camera. Now, most of these buildings are apartment complexes. Sometimes that freaks out residents of the complex. This is usually the case in either really nice complexes or really shitty complexes. Making matters worse, the owners generally don’t want you to mention they are either selling or refinancing, so you can’t even explain to anyone why you are there when they freak out.

Anyway, in this dream I had to go look at a very nice complex. Of course, being a dream, the place was fucking weird. Among its amenities were a Universal Studios amusement park, complete with roller coaster, a Masonic temple, a restaurant and several convenience stores. In short, this was a complex that wouldn’t ever actually exist.

Sometimes when I take the pictures I will take my son along. In the dream I had done that. Unfortunately, this is where the dream gets even stranger. The police decided I needed to be arrested. And, in keeping with dream behavior, I grabbed my son and we hid. We got chased around the complex, ducking through secret doors and hallways. But, unfortunately, we got caught and went to jail.

This is where it really gets twisted. They took my son with me to jail. There was this really bizarre program where you got to have your kid with you. Why didn’t my son go with my ex? I couldn’t tell you. But here I am, in jail, with my son. And I used my one call to ask a neighbor to make sure my dog got fed and to get the mail and to check my fax machine.

The thing about my dreams, though, is that my mind starts to try to make the story make sense. So the story needed a reason for me to be arrested. So, in the dream it turned out an ex lived in the complex, saw me taking the pictures, and told police I was stalking her. From there the dream got boring.

I will say it made more sense than the dream where I was among the best competitors in a wildly popular sport where men punched each other in the arm as hard as possible. The competitions were hugely popular, and the prize money remarkable. The idea of being world famous for punching other men in the arm is somewhat amusing.

OK, I set this down for a couple of hours. I have a headache and I am tired. I am actually tempted to go to bed, where I won’t be able to sleep for a couple of hours. But what fun would that be?

So, instead, I will tell you some things I have learned moderating personal ads.

First, approximately 40% of single men in America are firemen. I am sure this makes the women very happy because I seem to recall that recent surveys indicate that women find firemen extremely sexy. I am quite certain that this is just a coincidence. I mean, seriously, what are the odds that all these guys are lying to get laid?

Also, you ladies that have men in Iraq will be happy to know that they are making good use of their time by posting personals ads. Based on the ads it seems that these men are very fond of their weapons, because they are always posing with a firearm. I guess women are particularly fond of M-16’s, because all the guys show their guns. Now, since these guys in Iraq can’t actually meet the chicks, I think we can assume there are a shitload of girls willing to send pics to strangers as long as they are in uniform.

And all you guys in Iraq don’t need to worry about your girlfriends, because they aren’t lonely. They all have ads posted. But, don’t worry…they aren’t cheating. They say right there in the personal ad that all they are looking for are friends. Like most people, they know that the best way to meet people you have no intention of sleeping with is to post a personal ad.

Also, it appears there are a shitload of men that fish, and are very proud of their fish. I guess a dead fish is some sign of virility.

So, I have developed a strategy to meet women. I am going to join the army, go to Iraq, and do some fishing. I will also be joining a volunteer fire brigade in some suburb of Baghdad. Then I will have my picture taken in uniform with a dead fish in one hand and my M-16 in another. Then I’ll get all the chicks.

Man. Propose having sex with one skanky crazy cheating thieving ex girlfriend and people get pissed.

I know I deserved it. Hell, I have totally villanized this girl and, honestly, I have been restrained. I haven’t told everything I could have, but you can only tell so many stories before it gets old. Well, maybe not old, but it’s not as much fun.

So here is what happened. I pretty much decided I couldn’t get involved with her again. I know there is no way I could ever trust her again, and I really have no reason to. But there were some unresolved issues there, and I had to get some answers, so I did talk to her. This wasn’t done in any way where there could be a real problem though. I don’t want her to have my home number. I don’t want her at my house. I don’t want to know where she lives. I am not even willing to take a chance of some sort of really twisted trap. (Why on earth should I have to worry about something like a trap? That is just insane. But the danger is real.)

Another thing to realize is that I knew there would be another meeting. Eventually we would see each other. Most likely she would end up on my front doorstep. Yes, I know I don’t have to answer. But I also know she has in the past knocked doors down. Plus there are windows to break. In other words, I decided that this had to be handled and it had to be somewhere else.

So I agreed to meet her someplace neutral. A safe place where getting truly involved wouldn’t be an issue. Hell, I don’t even want her to know what I drive! I wanted to see how I react. I know how I always react with her, and if I felt like that it was a better deterrent than anything else. I used to have a physical reaction. I would get nauseous. It was a physical manifestation of fear. Feeling that is more of a deterrent than any words or memories.

And when I saw her, there it was. Immediately I lost my appetite. Right then, although I was scared, I also felt safe because I knew that I could not handle that feeling again. I just couldn’t live that life again. And, even stranger, I didn’t find her attractive. Granted she was not wearing make-up and was dressed way down, but when I see her I don’t see a hot woman. I see her flaws. It’s like the things that I hated about her are manifested on her face and body. She didn’t look at all different, but what I saw was different. I am sure all those flaws were there before, and I even remembered them, but now they matter.

So we sat there and had a long fucking talk. And, while she thinks she has changed, she hasn’t. She says she has quit drinking, and maybe she has. She says she has grown up. She says a lot, but all I saw was the same shit, and this time it just doesn’t do it for me.

First, there were flashes of that famous temper. We talked about something that got her thinking about a woman I knew in the past (that she never met) that she always considered a total skank. And just that thought got her fired up and angry. She kept under control for the most part, but it was there. Later the conversation got to strippers and strip clubs. And there she was again, angry that such things exist and that people actually go to them. Of course, she was a stripper for 2 months.

Then there is the constant drama that surrounds her. For the third time since we met her ex is about to lose his house. I saved him once because of their daughter. Hell, for all I know she wanted me to save him again. Because while she always talks like she doesn’t put up with his shit, he will always be there. They have a kid, and because of that he will always have a way to get to her. And he is obsessed with her. While we were together she called him to see when she would be getting her daughter, and she lied about whom she was with (which is fine with me). She said Rebecca and, just as he always did, he wanted to know who Rebecca was. What the hell difference does it make? It’s not like they are a couple (supposedly anyway.)But, most of all, there was the issue of money. She needed cab fare to get home. She needed me to buy her food. She even needed cash for her daughter’s dinner tonight. Here she is supposedly changed, but she still sees me as a source of cash when she needs it. I lied and said I was broke, so beyond picking up the tab, she didn’t get jack shit. I dunno, but if I wanted to prove to someone I had changed and deserved a second chance I wouldn’t be asking for money.

Now, my personal favorite part of the whole thing was when it got to a discussion of checking out girls. What I was telling her was about how, when I look at a lot of women, I am not seeing them as hot. I am seeing how she has had some really bad plastic surgery (common in Dallas). Or sometimes I see how the woman seems to think the best approach is to dress like an extra from the streetwalker scenes in Pretty Woman. But people see you noticing someone and assume it’s an attraction thing.

Her reply was that she didn’t recall me ever checking out other women. Well, the fact is I never did. With her I didn’t look at anyone. I got real good at walking while staring at the floor. But I reminded her that she got insanely jealous of other women several times, and made a huge scene many times in public because she believed I was checking out other women when I wasn’t. She didn’t remember that. In fact, she eventually remembered me looking at another woman only once. It was very odd to get commended for being a good guy by a woman that was constantly accusing me of doing the one thing she swears is the worst thing a guy can do.

There is so much more that was discussed, but the fact is, it doesn’t really matter. She still wants some kind of relationship. I still don’t trust her. I am still unwilling to deal with her ex. She still sees me as an ATM. The only change is that the attraction really isn’t there.

So where do we go from here? She isn’t going to just go away. I expect what will happen is that she will keep chasing me until she finds another guy. My job is to keep as much separation as possible until I can move. Because of my job she will always be able to contact me if she feels like it, but I can at least protect my address and home number for the most part. The crazy ones never stay gone forever. I have had 2 in the last week.

I have cursed myself.

Guess who’s back. Back again. Heather’s back. Hide your men.

Yes, just when my life got boring I get a message from Heather. And, to make it even more interesting, she’s back in Texas!

(OK, you probably have notice I hyperlinked her name. If you are new or never read the archives, you missed all the good shit. I suggest you read that post and see what I am talking about. In fact, read a lot of the old stories. They are much better than the recent stuff.)

OK, so now we are right back where this whole blog started. You may remember way back then that she offered to fuck me for fun. Then she completely disappeared. Well, the absence has ended. I told you, they always come back. I still don’t know if it’s just my crazies that come back or all crazies still. But I knew this would happen.

The fucked up thing is that I kind of thought that the contact would come with her still in Utah. My guess was that, as soon as she needed money or the guy dumped her or whatever, then I would be someone she wanted to talk to again. I mean, even though she never said it, I knew there was some guy paying her bills. I could tell that she was talking and chatting on the sly. I may do stupid shit, but I am not stupid. I realize what is happening, I just have had some strange inability to make myself stop it.

Now that she is here I am not handling this well.

On one hand, this chick scares the shit out of me. Nobody has ever screwed me over the way that she did. I have been played emotionally, physically and financially before, but nobody ever managed to do all 3. I mean, just the thought of what happened at the end is very hard for me to think about. The whole situation was a mess and very painful. Having a woman not only take your money but end up in some twisted scam involving her ex-husband, his parents and an ex-boyfriend who jumped house arrest to be with her is just too fucked up.

But, on the other hand, she is hot and an amazing fuck.

Then there is the idea of closure. There are so many unanswered questions. I know it was all more complicated than it seemed, and part of what happened was not her doing. I would like to know what she says happened. I would like to know why she chose an abuser over me. I would like to know how she really sees, and saw, me.

But I generally don’t believe in closure. I never saw the point really. To get it you have to deal with a lot of old feelings and issues. You have to feel those feelings again to get those answers, and that never seemed worth the price. You also have to open yourself up somewhat emotionally, which is always a risk. And you run the risk that this person actually has another plan to hurt you again.

But did I mention she is hot and great in bed? Because she is.

Yeah, it’s all fucked up. I am very conflicted. You may remember way back when this blog started there was a poll. It got down to whether or not I should sport fuck Heather, or if I should even consider giving her another chance because people can change. The poll said I should fuck her. I am not big on polls, or on poles for that matter, but my pole gets big thinking about her. Well, bigger anyway.

So, I have a dilemma. Right now there is an insanely hot woman who will, on request, come over for the night and do amazing things to my body. She also could help me understand what the hell happened. Then we could have more sex. There are signs this sex will be available again in the future, despite my repeated insistence we will be fuckbuddies at best.

This same woman has a past indicating insanity, violent tendencies and a bunch of shitheads around her. She has stolen from me, lied to me, tried to have me arrested for no reason and possibly cheated on me.

I’d post another poll, but instead I ask for comments. Do I tap that ass, take her back, blow her off or tell her to go to hell?