Scared Bunny

I am in a weird position. As you know, I have been considering tapping the ass of an ex. So far things have gone surprisingly well. She has been very laid back. The calls are not too long or too frequent. We hung out with no tension. There is still an attraction, which is always a plus. Her ass is still incredible. Even her breasts are fuller.

It actually seems ideal for both of us. I don’t want serious, and her schedule guarantees she can’t have serious because of her work and school schedule. Plus she lives 50 miles away, so it can’t get too serious. It’s what she needs. It’s what I want.

Then her grandfather died.

I feel bad for her family. I know it sucks when your grandfather dies. But I also know that they aren’t close. In fact, her dad’s (who passed away some time ago) family actually has nothing to do with her or her kids.

So I am trying to figure out how to handle the situation. I have expressed my sympathy, and sincerely want to be there as a friend. But I also don’t want to send the wrong message. So I am totally at a loss as to how to handle it. It’s like a fucking tightrope. Supportive, but not in a way that is confusing.

Even casual relationships are hard.

I hate death. I am not talking about hating losing someone I love. Everyone does that. I hate death. I hate the whole process around death. All of the sudden everyone is pretending they are so close. These people fucking hate each other. They basically disowned this girl and her kids when her dad died. Now they are wanting her to help them with the funeral shit.

I know that people always want to believe that things like this settle differences and bring people together. It doesn’t. The best you see is everyone pretending that they get along out of respect. Usually what you have is just the same shitty ass fights, only more in your face because they are all forced to be together. Plus, there is additional stress because of the emotional situation, the funeral events, the planning. Oh and there can be that whole pesky will and estate thing.

My grandfather died a few years ago. He and I were close at one point, but I also am very much a realist so I knew he was just a man and had flaws. Now his kids were always at war. The older 2 hated the youngest because he was spoiled (and he was). So they weren’t mourning quite like the younger 2. His youngest daughter suddenly idealized her dad, and the youngest was in panic mode because he was going to be on his own. People that hated my grandfather pretended they loved him. The whole thing was a mess, and it created problems that took months to straighten out. And none of the issues ever got close to resolution.

But I understand the stress and people pretending to care. That is normal, and we expect the lies out of respect. What I don’t get is the people who have virtually no contact with the deceased suddenly loved them. I first saw this in high school. One night after a dance 2 guys got in an argument over a girl. One kid got shot.

The following Monday, every girl was in love with him and every guy was his best friend. Well, not the kid that shot him. They made him go home. But here’s the thing…the kid that got shot didn’t go to our school. Now, I know some kids went to church with him, so we’ll give them a pass. Some lived in his neighborhood, so they get a pass. But the school we were in had 1,800 students. If a kid in our school got killed chances are most people wouldn’t have really known him. I’m supposed to believe that all of these people actually knew and loved this kid.

I will admit something here I have never said: I have no idea who the dead kid was. I had never met him. I had never laid eyes on him. I had never heard his name. In fact, I had never heard of the girl or the kid that shot him. The only thing I know about him, besides the fact he got shot, is that he lived next door to a girl I knew, and I only know that because when he got shot the girl’s crazy ass drunk lawyer father came running out with a gun and was pointing it at everyone. In fact, the police first had to disarm him before they could handle the shooter.

I will make another confession. I don’t feel bad that I didn’t act like I had lost a friend, because he wasn’t a friend. I think a teenager getting shot is tragic, but it’s not a personal tragedy just because you are in the same zip code. I reserve personal tragedy reactions for people I am actually close to. Call me crazy, but I just can’t see acting devastated unless you know the person or are really close to the situation. I am also affected by major tragedies.

So, now I am sounding really cold, but I can deal with that. I’ve said worse.

I love my dog, really. But every time I get the turkey out he drives dances around like he has to pee. When my son acts like that I force him to go to the bathroom. But the dog just wants more fucking turkey. He stares at me while I eat it. Every time I go to the kitchen he runs in to see if he has any. You’d think I’d be used to this though. When I was a kid we had a St. Bernard that could smell the frozen turkey while it sat in the freezer, and she would go nuts from the time it came in the house until the last leftovers were gone.

But this dog is different, so this is weird. See, this was an abused dog. When we adopted him they almost wouldn’t let us take him because they were afraid that he would snap, but what I saw was that he was so beaten down that he was beyond ever striking out. He was afraid of everyone, but seemed resigned to the fact that he would be hurt. It was heartbreaking really. But he was so beautiful I had to take him.

He was originally so timid he wouldn’t even stay in the same room as the people in the house. When you went to him, he would run. If you told him to sit he would eventually stop and just sit there like he was waiting to get beaten. It was really sad. Strangely who opened him up were Heather and another of my exes. When Heather got sick his protective side came out, so he was always by her side whenever she was ill. The other ex was able to take what developed in to more trust of women than men and could get him to actually play. Now, while he is still very timid, he will jump around when I am playing with my son.

So you are asking yourself, why the fuck is he telling us this? I do not come here for touching stories about abused animals. I want stupid relationship stories or stories about people gluing their asses to toilets.

Now I will explain to you why I am pissed at this dog.

Everyone that sees this dog thinks he must be a chick magnet. Well, I have one friend that thinks my dog is racist because he runs away, but the dog runs from everyone so I doubt it’s a race thing. He is amazingly attractive for a dog. If I was a chick dog I’d be pissed he had his nuts lopped off. And people hear the story about how I got him and how timid he is, so the story makes me seem like a good guy for adopting him and helping him get over the abuse. Of course were I dumb enough to ever let another woman I date read this blog I’d lose that image real fast.

But none of that will work. The dog refuses to go for a walk. He hates to get in the car. There is no way to take him to a park to frolic. In short, the dog would be great to pick up women with, if he would just leave the fucking house. Yes, I know I never leave the fucking house, but please stop interrupting my rant. I have no game, but I have this potentially amazing tool. But the tool refuses to leave the shed. And, yes, I am calling my dog a tool. In fact, I am calling him a fucking tool.

I feed this dog. I make sure he has water. I’m the one who lets him go out to shit, piss and bark at whatever the hell it is out there he chases and barks at. I make sure he has all his shots. I vacuum the 52 pounds of hair he leaves on the carpet each week. Yeah I am also the one that had them lop off his balls, but that was because he was adopted and they would have arrested me if I hadn’t (And, no, I am not kidding. They almost put a warrant out for me because they never got the confirmation he was fixed from the vet.) And how about that? This dog was about to be put to sleep. They were discouraging people from adopting him for Christ’s sake. He was going to be toast. (Bypassing obvious asian food joke here.) But I saved his ass. I trusted him not to eat my son.

And all I want in exchange is for him to let me put him on a leash, take him to the park and to help me get a piece of ass. All he has to do is look cute and let women pet him and tell him how precious he is. I would kill for that job. But will he cooperate? No. The fucking dog doesn’t even like to get in the car. I have to literally pick him up and put him in the car. I drive a fucking Lexus. He wouldn’t even have to jump to get in. The step to get on the porch is about the same height as the car. He can do that, so why can’t he get his stank ass in the car?

Yes, women coo over him when they come over, but you know what? I don’t need his help then. I already did all the heavy lifting at that point. (No I am not saying they were fat chicks I had to carry in from the car because they passed out. You are really being a pain in the ass tonight.) If I got them here, I can convert from that point. Hell, most of them come over here knowing that we are going to fuck, even if we have never gone out before. At that point he is an unwanted distraction if anything. Time spent petting the dog is time I’m not spending stroking the kitty.

Plus, he then wants to come in the room when we’re going at it. For the most part all he does is lay down at the foot of the bed, but we really don’t need the distraction. And if he decides to watch we certainly don’t need the audience. If we wanted that we’d either be doing it in an apartment hot tub or the back room of a movie theater. We won’t even discuss the time he jumped his happy ass up on the bed because he thought we were playing instead of banging away.

He makes me want to get another dog. If I have to go through all the shit I put up with for a dog, I should at least get some ass out of it. It only seems fair.

When the wind is blowing hard enough to blow out my Dish Network and kill the electricity for a while, it’s blowing too fucking hard. I hate the wind on normal days, but this really sucks. As you know, I am sick. Specifically I have a respiratory infection. When that happens I usually get it heavy in the chest. That ends up leading to pleurisy. I’m actually pretty used to it to be honest. But the wind has really fucked with air quality, so I am sneezing up a storm. Every sneeze feels like my chest is tearing open.

I probably should go to the doctor, but I hate the doctor. I guess I have a problem with paying a shitload of money to be told what I already know. They will give me something to loosen my chest, which I can get over the counter. They will give me a script for anti-imflamitories, which I can get over the counter. Sometimes they get creative and give me antibiotics, but they never even do the tests to see if it’s viral or bacterial, so they may not even do anything. Then there is the fact you don’t actually get to see the doctor. Usually they see you when you actually need to go to a hospital. If it can be handled at the doctor’s office, you don’t see a doctor. Plus, I kind of think going and sitting in a room full of people when your immune system is already batting a disease seems pretty fucking stupid.

I also need to address something I have seen on television for some time. It is a fiber laxative commercial about 3 guys called “the regulars”. These guys all go and shit at the same time at work, using the same stalls each time and saying hi on the way in. The implication is that this is a good thing because it’s good to be regular. Don’t get me wrong. I think it is a good thing to shit every day. I think that is what doctors mean by regular. I don’t think they have what these guys do in mind.

First things first. If I am going to shit at the exact same time every day I want it to be right before I shower. What better time is there really? A great guy I know referred to the ideal morning routine as shit, shower and shave in that order. The basic idea is that you can really make sure you get clean. Seems reasonable, especially since not only don’t most of us have a bidet, we’re kind of scared of the damn things. I know if I could control regularity to the point that I shit once per day, I’d have it be first thing in the morning.

But these three guys want to go shit together at work. Maybe it is some kind of twisted team building exercise. Maybe one of them is a crazy boss that insists that they all shit together or they’ll get fired. Whatever it is, the whole thing is fucked up. I don’t know about anyone else, but I don’t like taking a shit if there is someone else in the bathroom. If I was shitting at work and someone came in I’d try to hold off until they left. I certainly wouldn’t come out while they were there. I certainly am not going to intentionally go shit with someone else there. Add in shitting while they shit and it just seems twisted.

But it gets worse. These guys do not follow standard men’s room etiquette. You never use an adjacent toilet if you have a choice. There are 5 toilets in the shot, but these 3 guys take three adjacent to each other. That simply isn’t done. You want as much privacy as possible during this very private moment. I have to think there is some sort of sick twisted perversion in this office. Perhaps this group shitting is some sort of fetish. They probably have some code word they use in interviews so they hire each other so they can shit together.

Last time I said something like that someone who was in to the fetish (in that case super glue fetish) found the blog and commented. Now I am going to end up with a bunch of group shitter finding the blog and wanting to educate me about what they do. For them, let me explain something:

You’re sick fucking perverts. If you get off on shitting with someone you need serious therapy. I don’t care if nobody does get hurt. I’m sure the horses on the porn sites don’t mind the blowjobs from barnyard sluts. But the people blowing the horses, the people filming the people blowing the horses and the people paying to watch the horses get blown are deeply fucked up. Same goes for you and your group shitting. It’s just wrong. I bet you wait to shit until you see someone go in the bathroom so you can sneak in and get you jollies with a covert team shitfest. If these poor people knew what you were up to they would kick your ass. In fact, if anyone ever takes a shit while I’m taking a shit from now on I am gonna kick their ass. I won’t even mention what I’ll do to anyone that shits while my son is taking a shit.

OK, now even I am afraid of this post. That seems like a good place to end.

I just received a very important medical warning. They said that women should not take Avodart. In case you haven’t seen the commercial, Avodart is a medication taken for enlarged prostate. Personally I would have thought that the fact women don’t have a prostate would be enough to ensure they wouldn’t take it, but I guess not. The only thing I can figure is that the doctors are concerned women might be interested in the drug because of one of it’s side effects. Avodart may make your breasts grow.

So here is what we have. If a man takes the drug his prostate will shrink, but he’ll grow tits. If a woman takes it, she won’t have any affect on her prostate, because she doesn’t have one, but her tits may grow. Of course she does this in exchange for birth defects on any kids she has. For some reason I can just see a lot of women saying to themselves “That sounds OK to me. I’m not planning on having kids. I’m almost always careful.”

Let’s be honest here. They have been selling breast enhancement products in the backs of magazines for decades. And half of the time they don’t even bother with new products. They just keep selling the same old ones. None of us know a woman that paid for those products, right? Just like no guy actually buys penis enlargement pills. But even though doctors have been saying for decades that these boob enhancers don’t work, women keep buying them. That kind of tells me that all over America there are women trying to decide if the risks of Avodart are worth it. And a shitload of them will decide it is. And they will be able to buy it because the shit also grows hair, so there are a bunch of those shady online pharmacies that have a drunk doctor on the payroll to write the script.

So here is what we can expect to see in the near future. There will be a lot of women with really nice tits, which the guys will enjoy. Of course we will also have kids with 3 arms, webbed feet and gills or something. And right now there half the guys are saying “I’m OK with that.” And the other half is thinking, “Damn. Fish kids sound kinda cool.”

It’s not like women are alone in this. We all know that if they came out with a pill for ovarian cancer that would make your dick grow, but would cause a person somewhere in the world to burst in to flames every time you took it, we’d have a sudden outbreak of spontaneous human combustion and no guy would be in porn without a 24 inch dick. And actually there are a lot of guys that would laugh every time they saw someone go up in flames, unless it was a hot chick. In that case he’d be pissed he hadn’t banged her yet.

In fact, I think that there is a large number of guys that would take a pill that would double their dick size even if it would never get hard again. I think for a number of guys having a big dick is more important than being a good lay. I can’t explain it, but I sincerely believe it. Personally I would only want one if it meant being a better lay. Having a 24-inch dick I had to strap to my leg would be a major pain in the ass. Honestly a nut sack is already a nuisance. A monster drug created dick would hardly be worth it.

By the way, I don’t want anyone that reads this to start taking the drug hoping to grow bigger tits. Even more importantly, I am not saying it will give you a bigger dick. If you do take it, don’t have kids. I really don’t like looking at kids with massive birth defects. Yes, that makes me shallow and pathetic, but that’s the way it is. I also don’t like the idea of hairy tits, no matter how big they are. And a drug that promotes tit growth AND hair growth could have some really fucked up results.

Oh, and according to someone that commented on one of the superglue posts (find it yourself, I’m tired) there are superglue fetish people and sites. They even posted links. I’m too scared to check them out so you go look and report back. I knew there would be. I swear that if you can do something sexual there is someone somewhere in to it, and they will set up a web site to get that person’s money.

I also think I am going to invent fetishes and see who finds the blog.

Yeah, I didn’t write anything last night. I wish I had an exciting story as to why, but I don’t. I did have someone come over for a while, and yes it was that ex, but it was just to watch the Cowboys lose. Basically she was in town because her kids were visiting her ex-husband’s parents, so she didn’t have much to do. She didn’t want to stay there, and the kids couldn’t spend the night because the adults were going to the deer lease at 4AM. I had nobody here and no energy to go anywhere. Put those together and it made sense.

But there is no story beyond that. On her end I think she was unsure about what to expect, and I have a really nasty head cold. Sorry to disappoint. Shortly after the game ended her son called because grandpa was going to bed, so it was time to go. That was fine with me because I just wanted to go to sleep and to try to get rid of this shit in my head. So instead of writing I kind of dozed until I got the energy to go to bed.

As for the rest of my day, I cooked a full Thanksgiving dinner for myself, which means I now have an obscene amount of leftovers in my refrigerator. I also have no appetite because I feel like shit, so the food may be there for a while. I didn’t even eat any of the pie. I went to the trouble to bake the fucker, but I dodn’t touch it. Well, I did touch it, but I didn’t eat any of it. It is still sitting there wondering if it will be eaten.

To be honest, even though I am sick and on vacation, it’s not that big a deal. I am not going to a store today for anything. I could use some medicine, but there is no way I am going out there. Even the fucking grocery stores are full of people because of those dumbass sales they are having. I hate crowds. Crowds at stores are 10 times worse. I can deal with a crowd at an event like a concert, sporting event or Paris Hilton auto accident, but the idea of dealing with a crowd for the express purpose of spending money is beyond me. The few times I have ever gone to a mall the day after Thanksgiving wasn’t to buy gifts. It was because something I really wanted for myself was on sale. I am far too selfish to deal with that shit for someone else. Plus, I have noticed that these “early bird sales” aren’t usually any better than the “oh shit we aren’t going to hit our revenue number sales” closer to Christmas. That and the fact I can get the same fucking price online and not have to deal with the dipshits at the store.

This is particularly true at Wal Mart. I hate Wal Mart. I tolerate Wal Mart because it is the closest major store to my house, I can get groceries and it has both a garden center and toy section, which is something my son likes. But Wal Mart is like Mecca for dipshits. There is Wal Mart just off one of the freeways I have to drive on, and whatever power it has over the weak-minded extends beyond it’s actual physical space. As you get closer to the store the people driving on the freeway slow down and start doing stupid shit. People will come to a complete stop on an Interstate just to make a lane change. People driving down the road will slow down just to look in the direction of the store, even though all you can actually see from the road is the bigass sign in the parking lot.

Then as you get past the store the traffic suddenly returns to normal. Think about this. After the Wal Mart there are 4 exits in under 2 miles, including one where the Interstate splits with the major freeway to get from North Fort Worth to Dallas. People can handle that mess with no problem. There is even a good-sized shopping mall, 2 large strip malls and several large national retailers in there, and people have no problem. But drive on a straight road next to a Wal Mart and you will be lucky if you don’t end up with an 18-wheeler trying to climb up your tailpipe.

If people can’t handle driving by a Wal Mart on a normal day, what makes anyone want to deal with the people inside a Wal Mart fighting over $29 DVD players? In Wal Mart people can’t figure out not to park their cart in the only gap between a roof support and the shelves. They will look at you dumbfounded because it never occurred to them that there might be a better place in that 60-foot aisle to leave their cart. They will give you a dirty look when they realize you are stopped because you can’t get through. They will make shitty remarks to you as they move the cart so you can actually continue your shopping. I sincerely believe that, were you to try to move the cart yourself they would remove the razor blade they have concealed in their mouth and cut you.

The girl that was here yesterday is one that goes to the store at 5AM. That alone scares me, and I told her so. You may remember a story a couple of years ago where a woman was stampeded trying to get to DVD players on sale at a Wal Mart. While that story turned out to be a lie and she was a liar and a thief, we all know that none of us doubted her story for a minute until we learned she had pulled the stunt before. We have been to Wal Mart and we believe sincerely something like that can happen.

That same year her mom wanted to go get those same DVD players at a Wal Mart. At their store, however, the managers didn’t want to deal with people running through the store when they opened. They had a different plan. They waited until they opened and everyone was inside, and they wheeled out the pallets of DVD players. Now I don’t see how that makes a difference because people will stampede for anything, but that was their plan. But what happened was that the people by the door the DVD players came out of were getting crushed as everyone else tried to get to them. These people couldn’t get out. Personally I have little sympathy for them because I imagine they knocked over old women to get there.

The Wal Mart employees decided to take action though. Now, getting the people under control never occurred to them. That would make sense. Instead they decided that the solution was to get rid of the people behind the fortunate souls that had DVD players but now couldn’t leave and were getting crushed. So they started throwing DVD players in to the crowd.

A couple of quick points. First, DVD players, like most electronics, do not respond well to being thrown. Second, cheap DVD players are cheap for a reason. Basically, they are not put together real well. The combination of these two facts makes throwing the DVD players a bad plan in general, unless you want to lengthen the time it takes to return something to Wal Mart from 2 hours to 4. But there is also another problem. People that are busy pushing each other are not prepared to catch flying electronics. The end result is people getting hit in the head with a DVD player. That is what happened to this girl. Then, once they realize they have a better chance of getting a flying DVD player than actually making it to the front of the mob before they run out, they start trying to knock the people around them out of the way as they fight for the DVD players.

I wasn’t there to witness this, but I can picture it. What I am imagining is something like a cross between a mosh pit and Australian Rules Football. The main difference is that instead of teenagers and professional athletes what you have is a crowd of women between the ages of 18 and 60 (the women older than that having been trampled at the door). So now you have gone from a stampede to a full scale riot with people fighting over boxes while other people are doubled over in pain after having been smacked in the head with a flying box with a DVD player inside that now won’t work because the impact caused the small parts not so carefully assembled by children and political prisoners to break loose.

So, rather than go and deal with the worst in human behavior, I am going to suffer my illness home alone. Oh, and I may make the same purchases you guys are fighting over at home.  

I think my boss must read this piece of shit. I say that because he only called 3 times today. My personal favorite was the call at 5:05 to ask questions that absolutely didn’t need to be asked. I don’t mean didn’t need to be asked tonight. They didn’t need to be asked at all. There’s also the fact they were actually all discussed in both of the other calls and 3 emails. I swear he has Alzheimers. That or he’s just an asshole. One or the other.

There were also the calls from IBM. I think they are on crack. First they called from Atlanta to tell me the parts are on backorder, and they have absolutely no idea when the parts would be ready. You would think a company like IBM would have some idea when a part would be available. But they didn’t. But their teck did call to make an appointment to work on the damn thing on Friday. Given that there are 2 parts, and they seemed to think that they had one of them, I assumed he was going to fix just that one part, which is the more important one anyway, so I was OK with that. Hell, I actually am hoping the laptop will explode during the repairs, forcing the bank to get me a new one, but I digress.

Then I got a strange call. DHL wanted to let me know that my package that had been lost had been located, and they wanted to know if a 10:30pm drop-off would be ok. This was a surprise because I didn’t even know I had a package, let alone that it was lost. I had to say that 10:30 was fine because I wanted to know what the hell it was. Well, it’s here. It’s the part that IBM doesn’t have and didn’t know when to expect. Not only did they find it, they actually paid to have it sent here for same day delivery. So I guess the repairman can fix it Friday.

I am impressed that they went to all that trouble. But let’s look at the whole situation. They are telling me they don’t have the part and don’t know when they’ll get it at the same time they are shipping it. They used one of the worst delivery companies in the business, who actually manage to lose the package and end up having to send some poor schlub out at 10:30 in his own car to deliver it. And then there is the fact we have already replaced the exact same parts 3 times. Maybe if they stopped using “serviceable used parts”…

OK, enough with work shit until Friday. I am still on vacation and the office is closed. Maybe that means I actually get the day off. I doubt it.

I was thinking today about my first post-college job. I was in lending and I really started at the bottom. One thing I had to do was collect on bad loans. And these were shitty loans. These were the kinds of loans where they had taken televisions as collateral. We are talking one step above loan sharks. A big step, but one step none-the-less. So we would have to go visit these people at their homes sometimes. This was never fun. It was great being out of the office, but the part where we had to go to the door sucked. We would have people try to give is TV’s they didn’t even own. We had one chick replace the sterling silver concho belt with a $5 plastic one.

Then there was the lady that threw her television at us. Yes, she got mad and threw the television. Meanwhile her daughter attacked the lady I was with. Normally this would have been a problem except she was 5. She seemed to blame us for the fact her mom threw gthe TV. I was at first really upset until I realized how funny the whole thing was. Having a 20 inch TV thrown at us and being attacked by a screaming kindergartener. The boss didn’t think it was funny, but he didn’t see it. I think he was mad that the TV was broke too.

So he had a great idea…he called the cops. The following things are not illegal:

1. Throwing your own television set


2. Cussing and swearing at a bill collector


3. Not paying your bills

But…it is illegal to collect bills on a reservation without getting tribal permission. Yeah, we knew that, but we did it anyway. So we called the cops and, to tell the story we had to admit we had done something illegal. This was OK though because he called the city cops. Except they have no jurisdiction on the reservation, so they didn’t give a shit. They also seemed to think that my boss was an idiot for calling. For the record he was an idiot before he called them. They agreed that there was the possibility that throwing the TV would constitute an attack, but they seemed to agree with me that throwing your own TV is pretty funny since you still owe the money but now you also don’t have a working TV.

As for the little girl attacking my partner, they didn’t seem concerned. This was in the kind of town where they recognize that the typical 5-year old is not that dangerous. It is also the kind of town where the little kids are unlikely to be armed, which is a good thing I think. I think they were a little pissed off to be called in on an attempted kindercide. Especially since the whole thing happened some place they can’t legally go without an act of congress. And my boss seemed pissed that they weren’t going to seal the border between the town and the reservation to nab the lady and her criminal spawn as she drove to buy groceries or something.

Meanwhile he seemed ready to revoke the fucking treaty, call out the cavalray and try to get them to all sleep on blankets infected with small pox. After seeing this man I now understand what it must have been like when the Crusades happened, except instead of a psycho loan officer in a shop that would have been illegal in many states, you had the Pope pissed that some chick had thrown the Shroud of Turin at a Cardinal while her kid beat him with a sandal. See, the cops, the army and congress all could just tell my boss to get bent. But when it’s the Pope, you end up massing thousands of guys in tin suits and making them go some 5,000 miles to kill people.

Yeah. Last night’s entry sucked. I forgot about it until I was half asleep. And today was going to be better, but it’s not going to be. My original plans changed when I got this giant headache.

This is a boss induced headache.

Let me begin at the beginning, which was last night. It was a shitty sleep night. That basically means a lot of really fucked up dreams. I still wish you could record dreams because mine would be great sellers. There were several, but my personal favorite involved me being back in college and having to drive back to school after a holiday. In keeping with dream logic my school got moved to Dallas. That meant a long fucking drive. But I think the dream part of my brain figured there is no point in having the drive be part of the dream, since I was driving alone. So I went from leaving my old hometown to suddenly being 6 blocks from the mythical dorm.

But my normal brain couldn’t handle the gap, so most of the rest of the dream was spent telling people I had made an 18-hour drive but didn’t remember any of it (even though I can make that drive in about 11-12 if there aren’t any cops). So whatever the point of the dream was, it got lost in people freaking out because I had apparently made this long ass drive while blacked out. About the time that dream ended I had decided I needed to see a doctor to figure out why I had blacked out.

But the real point of mentioning the dreams is that it meant I woke up exhausted. And since I have my son, getting up was not optional. I also couldn’t take a nap. When that happens what little patience I have goes to my son. The rest of the world can kiss my ass.

So when the phone started ringing I was not in a great mood. This was not helped by the fact that my work phone rang, then my cell (twice), and then my work phone again. And this was all in a matter of 2 minutes while I was getting dressed. It seems that there is this impression that I am going to answer if you let the phone ring long enough. I don’t quite get that logic. If I am hearing it ring, but not taking it, that means I am not taking calls, or just not taking yours. Regardless, no matter how many times it rings, I’m not going to pick it up. If I were dodging your call, answering it would be admitting that. If I’m not it means I can’t hear the phone, and repeated calls won’t change that. My boss doesn’t grasp that.

And did I mention that I am supposedly on vacation this week? That’s right, I was getting repeated calls from my boss while I am on vacation. Now, I like feeling like I am that important, but my job is hardly life or death. I do make a point of checking voicemail and email because I do earn commissions so I sure as fuck don’t want to pass up any business. But the deal when I am on vacation is that I will check voicemail and email. It does not mean I am going to sit by the phone and answer all calls. That would kind of defeat the purpose of a vacation.

So, I did eventually take a call. I then got chewed out for not rushing to return his call because it was important. For the record, no, it wasn’t. In fact, it was easily taken care of and he had taken care of it. All he hadn’t done was lecture me. I kind of think that can be done after my vacation. But he also insisted I follow up with the customer in question, even though he already had. So I got to spend 20 minutes talking to the customer about the same fucking thing he’d already gone over with my boss. And this shit doesn’t get me any more money.

But in that call the customer explained a problem with our website. Since we require them to do business on the web site (or at least my boss does) that was important. I couldn’t help the guy so I referred him to the tech department. That got me another call from my boss. I am not supposed to refer people to tech support. They only talk to employees. This is because we have hired a tech support person that doesn’t really speak English. So we can’t hire someone to handle support that speaks English. I thought I was the only one that couldn’t communicate with her. Guess not. To me the solution was to actually hire a support person capable of providing support.

But here’s our plan. The customer tells me the problem, which I cannot fix. I also cannot check the system to see what the problem is. I then call support, trying to get her to understand English while she tries to get me to understand Russian. She will check the system and give me instructions for something the customer can try. I then call back the customer, and we try this solution. We repeat this until the tech person eventually finds the problem and fixes it, or she gives me a solution that actually works. Not that we haven’t tried this before and had it fail miserably and waste both my time and the customer’s or anything.

But this time he handles it personally. This consists of him telling tech support and them telling him they see no problem. In his mind, this means the problem is fixed. Now, to me, that doesn’t fix the problem. The customer is still pissed. I still can’t tell them what they are doing wrong, and nobody can do their job the way the boss insists it be done.

Did I mention all this is while I am on fucking vacation?

But then I decide to check the email. So I pick up my laptop. This immediately causes the laptop to shut down. I turn it on. Nothing happens. I check the plug. Not the plug. To get it working again I have to remove the plug and the battery and wait, then put them back and start over. This happens 2 more times. So my laptop can’t be moved without risking losing everything you are working on. This is the 4th time we have had this problem. So I know the routine. I call IBM, they send out a workman (because we pay them a shitload), he replaces the fan and the motherboard, and we wait a few months for the problem to happen again.

But I can’t just call IBM. I have to talk to our tech guys and get their permission to call IBM. Keep in mind they can’t work on the laptop anyway without voiding the warranty, and we pay for on site service. But I need their permission. Except they don’t answer their phones, respond to emails or in any way communicate with anyone except the boss. These aren’t the same people that don’t speak English. I have spoken to them before (after the boss made them call me) so I know they can talk. They just choose not to. So I got to end my supposed vacation day trying to get permission to talk to IBM, and then actually talking to IBM

In short, I am in a shitty mood and if my boss were here I would beat the shit out of him with the laptop. It has to be good for something.

If it weren’t for my son I think I could get by with only HBO and Showtime. Of course I mean the expanded packages with a shitload of versions of each channel plus Cinemax and The Movie Channel. I might need Starz too. You can keep The Sundance Channel because if I want to watch gay stuff I have The L Word.

I like the L Word. I understand it is not the most accurate portrayal of lesbianism, what with them hiring only really hot straight women to play the lesbians, but I do like the show. I was watching last night and came to the conclusion there are only 2 regulars on the show I wouldn’t do. That’s a pretty damn good average, especially for a show with such a large cast.

What I really like is the way you have an entire show full of people that are completely miserable except when they are fucking each other. That must be why they are always fucking someone. I honestly can’t think of a single main character we haven’t seen fucking on more than one occasion. Last night alone I think there were 2 different sex scenes with the stars, plus an anonymous sex scene with some people in a hallway.

The sex isn’t really all that exciting except in it’s value in explaining the mysteries of lesbian sex. I think we can safely assume it’s not like what they show in porno. You’d get lockjaw if all you did was go down on each other for hours at a time. Unfortunately they can’t really show us what they’re doing. Whatever it is they seem to do it very hard and with great gusto.

We have also learned that lesbians appear to have smaller breasts. It could just be that they don’t have fake tits as much. Either way, they hire mostly chicks with smaller tits than the average show. Last night one of them was commenting about how the first thing she noticed was the other girl’s tits. I am guessing that is because the other girl had tripped and fallen on her as she sat, and her tits ended up smacking her in the face, because these are not spectacular by any stretch. I’m not even a breast man and I would say they aren’t all that great. They aren’t bad tits, but I think saying her tits are her best feature is some kind of insult really. I’ve seen this chick on those damn yogurt commercials and at no point have I thought, “Damn, those are nice tits.”

Unfortunately shows like The L Word are the only real place for us to learn about lesbians because they don’t hang around us guys. That could be because if they did the average guy would keep asking them to make out with each other. I have to refer you back to my general rule that I am not too interested in sex that doesn’t involve me, and unlike the average guy I really don’t think that these lesbians will be so overcome by lust they are going to ask me to join in. I guess I am incapable of believing that life is like a porn movie. If it were I would try to get a job as a pizza delivery guy or cable repairman.

Now that’s a shocker. Someone actually wants me to tell you what I do every day. As you know, I have a very serious belief that the typical “This is what I did” today blog is not worth reading. Not that there aren’t some good ones, because I am sure there are. But if we all had lives interesting enough to fill a blog every day, we wouldn’t have time to write. Of course not every day has suck thrills as the cat getting lost. Hell, if I were to start writing just what I did each day I’d have fewer readers than I already do.

That’s why sometimes I write about other people’s stories. You’ve heard all my good ones. If you haven’t go read the first 2 months in the archive.

Today’s story is one I think is true, but I am not sure. It’s not the kind of thing you find in the news. You may find it on Jerry Springer, but I don’t know for sure. It’s absolutely insane regardless.

Here is the situation. There is a married couple with a couple of kids. They’re in that stretch where you are connected to your family but you aren’t connected to your spouse. They’re clearly getting bored. Well, she is anyway.

Here is where the guy made his first mistake. His wife joined a gym. By all accounts she was an attractive woman, and already in shape, but that comes from her husband and he could be biased. Here is a very basic thing for you guys out there. When your wife or girlfriend starts to get in shape it’s because either she wants to cheat or she thinks you are cheating. Basically she is wanting to look good for someone. I know there are people saying she may want to look good for herself, but if that were the case, she’d have probably done it a long time ago.

So she goes to the gym and, lo and behold, she meets a guy. I don’t know if he was a trainer or just another member, but they hooked up. One thing leads to another, and they start fucking. But I guess they aren’t too discrete, because the husband finds out.

Here is where it gets fucked up. The husband talks to one of his friends and the friend has a suggestion. He steers the guy to a hooker. Now, personally, that is not the kind of advice I would give. Maybe if my friend got dumped and needed to get off, but not for a married guy that found out his wife is cheating. And, to make things worse, the guy thinks his friend has a good idea.

But he has the wrong idea about what his friend is suggesting.

He has his own plan. In typical vicetem of a cheating whore and/or asshole form, he doesn’t blame his wife. In his mind the woman that had made a vow before god to be with him for the rest of his life isn’t to blame here. No, it’s the guy that is a total sack of shit. He claims that what he wants really is to keep his family together, but his actions show he is totally blind when it comes to his wife. I say this because he hatches a scheme to make her wife’s new love look like shit. He wants to hire a hooker to go pick up the new guy and basically get the gym rat to cheat on his wife.

Maybe it’s just me, but that seems like a particularly stupid fucking plan. First off, how the hell is he even going to know that she did it? It’s not like he can subtly spy on the two of them and confirm something happened. And even if it does happen, how is he going to make sure his wife knows? Ih he gets proof and takes it to her he is going to be stuck explaining why he hired a hooker to fuck another guy. And he has to explain where he happened to find a hooker. I really am thinking there is not a good answer to that question.

So maybe his plan is to make sure it happens somewhere that his wife will catch them. How the hell does he propose to do this? Does he think he is going to get the hooker and the gym rat to fuck on the bench press machine there at the gym? Does he think he can arrange for his wife to happen to stop by wherever she bangs the guy at the precise moment his dick is in the hooker?

I understand the guy is hurt, but, as someone who has been fucked over and cheated on, I have learned one key trait in victims. We are fucking stupid. We always blame the wrong people. We get hurt because we let these people hurt us. Very rarely does a victim really get surprised when they get hurt. If they’d be honest they would admit that they knew what was happening. Shit, I have always known well before anything happened that I was going to get screwed over.

All I know is that this is the kind of shit they make bad movies about, and it appears we have someone doing it in real life. It also appears that this is the guy whose wife you want to bang. Not only do you get to bang her, but he will hire another hot chick for you to bang too! What a deal!

I think I need to join a gym.

OK, I am going to warn you that this is not going to be the most manly blog entry.

My hair is conspiring against me. I have mentioned before that I am growing it out and that it gets curly. Really Sassy, I have. More than once. I also mentioned that it grows quickly. Well, it has slowed its growth, I believe sensing that it was getting dangerously close to cutting length. I also think it is curling more in an effort to look even shorter than it is. The plot really isn’t working. I check how long it is about 20 times a day. It can’t hold off on the growth forever, and when it slips up and grows out I’ll be waiting. I have the stylist on standby. In fact, I am getting her a pager so we can act immediately. I am so fucking sick of my hair. I would shave my head but I think I probably have a funny shaped skull.

I also spent the better part of the day looking for a fucking cat. Of course this wasn’t just any cat, it was my son’s cat. Since the cat has been with him since as long as he can remember, it means a lot to him. And I guess it’s not a bad cat, as far as cats go. It’s a fat lazy fucker, except when it gets the chance to escape. And it appears it got that chance. The damn thing got out some time last night and was gone until about an hour ago. I think she only came back because she needed to shit. It seems the cat can’t actually shit outside. Every time she has ever escaped she came back in and immediately made the laundry room smell like shit.

But since the cat means a lot to my son, and the fact she was missing so long made him cry, I was out there whistling to try to find her. I was walking my happy ass up and down the street whistling. Oh, and there are the stupid ass kissy sounds she responds to. Let’s not forget that I had to make those too. I walked all over the place whistling and making kissy sounds. I stopped when it got dark though. I kind of had to. I couldn’t see without a flashlight and I figured that a large man walking around shining a flashlight at the houses while whistling and making kissy sounds was going to end up getting me thrown in jail. I can only imagine what I would do if I saw that. I am not sure if I’d call the cops, go beat the shit out of the apparent perv or just laugh. I decided not to see what my neighbor’s response would be.

I probably could have handled the cops if they did get called. Courtesy of Heather most of the cops here know me. Of all the things they have seen with me, I think this would have been just about the most normal. It would seem more normal than the time Heather threw a laptop at me and I threw her shoes down the street so she’d have to go get them. Luckily I only had to explain the laptop part, because the shoe thing sounds really stupid. I would have hated to explain it. All I can say is that it sounded like a good idea at the time.

We won’t even start on the trip to the grocery store for food for Thanksgiving.

All I can say is that the whole fucking day has me feeling less than masculine. I mean, fuck, as I write this one of the 52 HBO channels is showing The Vagina Monologues. It’s like the world really wants me to abandon my manhood, put on a dress and start going by the name Martha. It’s bad enough that I would have gone to a strip club alone if I didn’t have my son here. I would rather feel like a creepy perv than like…well, whatever the fuck I do feel like? Plus, they have beer at the strip club, and I like beer. Of course I have beer here too, but it tastes better when given by a hot chick in a short skirt.

I do think the cat feels bad about the whole thing though. She just sat on the remote and changed the channel to the soft-core porn on Cinemax. It was nice to look up and see tits on the screen. Of course the program guide says it’s supposed to be Troy, so maybe she wanted to show me Brad Pitt in a short skirt. Either way I have got to keep watching and find out what airline those two are flying, because that is one seriously huge airplane bathroom they are fucking in. If I ever fuck in an airplane bathroom, I want it to be a big one like that.

I am also kind of surprised by this chick’s nipples. They aren’t weird or anything. In fact, they are quite normal. But usually the people that cast this shit are either big areola people or little areola people. These are pretty much normal sized. Personally I prefer the smaller ones, but that is neither here nor there. We may have found the one titty flick casting director that does not have a nipple type. Either that or we have a new type that just likes the ones in between, which means I have to rethink the whole damn theory. I have to admit the idea of doing the research is somewhat interesting, but not enough to actually sit through several of these damn things.

Oh, and Troy did come on, so I think the cat just wanted to fuck with me. Bitch.

Tomorrow I am going to have to find manly things to do like changing the oil or something. And I’m going to have to kill this fucking cat.

Lots of people find my blog while looking for information on rabbits. Basically they ask things like “How do I pick up a bunny” and end up with a discussion of me banging some crazy chick in the ass, or me bent over a trashcan, puking my guts out, in a seedy strip club bathroom after too much alcohol and possibly some sort of drug. It seems that whatever you search for involving the word bunny will steer you to my blog. Because they are using the word bunny, I am assuming that these are kids. At first I felt some guilt about that, but then I realized that it’s not my fault that their parents are letting them surf the net unsupervised. Hell, you know damn well these kids are also ending up at Playboy.com, and that has got to be more confusing for the kids than my blog. Those women have chests twice the size of their waists and seem to find it impossible to keep their clothes on whether in the bedroom, the kitchen or a barn.

But knowing this is going on, I feel a sense of responsibility. I don’t mean the sex and drinking stories are going to stop. If you eliminate sex and booze then you lose half of the shit on this blog. Plus, I am a fan of both the sex and the booze. I like the sex more than the booze, and most of the sex stories are better, but the booze has brought us some great classics that usually involve me getting sick, injured and/or totally embarrassed.

No, the responsibility I feel is to educate the kids.

I think that the drinking stories do enough on their own to point out the dangers of alcohol. Let’s be honest. I should be dead. I have had hangovers that lasted days. For god’s sake I once ended up upside down in a pickup truck on a dirt road, with the truck spinning on its roof and me telling the driver, “Dude, we’re upside down.” I have even been so drunk in Mexico that I willingly leaned my head against a men’s room wall above a urinal.

I have done well to teach kids that you can never trust anyone. They have learned that everyone lies. They have learned that every man on earth wants to fuck every woman. It doesn’t matter if the guy is straight or gay, single or married. If he has a dick, he wants to stick it in every woman he sees. Given the opportunity, he will too.

I also think I do a good job to teach the kids that their sexual desires are healthy. Specifically I think there is no better resource for confirmation that extremely hard no-lube anal with a girl you just met is OK. And it’s OK to want to bang strippers, as long as you don’t actually date them and/or give them your home address.

But there is an area where I have let the younger readers down. See, the kids are being misled about sex. Sex is everywhere, but they aren’t getting the truth. I don’t just mean the idea that it’s possible to look really cool and sexy while fucking, which we all know is bullshit. I also don’t mean the idea that the average male dick is 9 inches long, which we get because the only dicks we ever see are in porn.

No, the kids are being lied to about sex before marriage. Your parents, your church and, if you are in Kansas, your school are telling you to save yourself for marriage. They are lying to your ass. They tell you you have to love someone to have sex with them. They tell you sex is special. They tell you it is the most important thing two people can share. They are so full of shit.

I think you need to wait until your mature enough to handle all the bullshit that goes along with sex, like screaming babies and herpes. I also think you need to use at least 2 forms of birth control. Probably even a good idea to use 2 condoms so it lasts longer than the average commercial break. You shouldn’t be doing it in the high school auditorium, in the bathroom at school, under the stairwell, in a classroom during the teacher’s period off. Pretty much you shouldn’t be having sex at school at all. Contrary to popular belief, group sex isn’t normal. Only sluts do 2 guys at once. Blowjobs do count. So does anal. It also counts if he just puts it in a little.

But waiting for marriage is fucking stupid. What happens if you finally start having sex after marriage and you find out your guy sucks? What happens if his dick is the size of your pinkie and he can’t unzip his pants without cumming? Where will you be if the only way he can get hard is for you to dress like his mother and sing lullabies? And for the guys, what if she considers sex a great anniversary and birthday gift, but too special for every day fun? What if her idea of kinky is letting her feet hang over the end of the bed? How will you handle it if you find out that she isn’t even getting warmed up and you’ve already shot your load so many times your balls have shrunk down to the size if chickpeas?

What I’m saying is that only an idiot would promise to be faithful to a person for the rest of their lives without knowing exactly what they are getting in the deal. I wouldn’t get married again unless I knew that we had such mindblowing sex that not only won’t we be tempted to cheat, we won’t have the energy. I would want my wife to walk funny because she’s been ridden so hard and so often that she has permanent deformities. I want to know exactly what she will and won’t do, and want the first list to be a shitload longer than the second.

Everyone tells you to save yourself for one very simple reason: It’s easier than telling you the truth. Your parents do not want to discuss the reality of sex with you. It’s OK though, because you don’t want to talk to them about sex. Honestly, I don’t want to tell you either, but I have the advantage of being able to just write this shit without looking in to your innocent little eyes as I fill your head with all the disgusting truths about sex.

If your parents talk to you about sex then they have to admit some facts to you that are embarrassing. First, your parents fucked before they got married. In fact, they did truly disgusting things that would be scary if you ever saw them. Some of those things are illegal in my home state of Texas. In fact, they are still having sex. It may not be with each other, but they are still fucking. And, yes, they fuck. Sometimes they just have sex, but rarely do they ever “make love”. Your mom likes to be called a dirty little slut and your dad likes it when you mom bites his nipples. They also play games like “business traveler and the hooker in the hotel bar”, after which your mom gets pissed because your dad seems to really have that game down.

So from now on I will make a point to periodically post things designed to educate the younger people. Hopefully I won’t end up in jail for it.

I don’t understand why people lie. Let me rephrase that. I don’t understand why people lie for no reason.

I will have to kind of tiptoe around this one, because I am not trying to trash anyone’s reputation. All I can say is that I happened to talk to someone that I hadn’t spoken to for months. We don’t have any relationship, so what one of us thinks of the other is irrelevant. It wouldn’t make a bit of difference to either of us what was going on in the other’s life. But one of those situations happened where two people ended up talking very briefly. And for some reason this person felt the need to lie.

But it goes beyond the lie. This is one of those lies you just can’t get away with. Why would you tell a lie that is going to be proven a lie? A lie that is guaranteed to be disproved because the person you lied to is guaranteed to go somewhere that will show them that you lied? And why lie when the person really doesn’t care one way or the other about what you are lying about? Why lie when you gain absolutely nothing from doing it?

I have been lied to a lot. I have known good liars and bad liars. I have seen people lie about everything under the sun. I have been victimized by lies, shocked by lies and amused by lies. But in the past I always understood the reason for the lie, even if the reason was stupid. Even with dumb lies that were guaranteed to be found out. Hell, especially the really bad lies. With those there has always been a sense of desperation that made the lie understandable, even when it wasn’t excusable.

This just had me laughing my ass off, and I like my ass, so it was a major loss. I couldn’t wait to get home to tell a friend about it because I knew he would appreciate it (and he did). I mean tell him about the lie. He and I rarely discuss my ass. In fact, the only time I recall us ever discussing my ass was once when I found out that a couple of people at a bar kept saying to each other “damn he’s got a nice ass”. While that was flattering, it wasn’t that much fun because I wasn’t interested in either of them, what with one being kind of scary and the other being a guy. We discussed the fact my ass was a topic of conversation, so we weren’t really talking about the ass but instead the impact it had on others. But I digress.

He knows the story. He knows all of my stories. He knows things I’d never say here. So I had to tell him what happened. He found it at least as funny as I did. He actually wants to kind of set something up where just happen to end up somewhere where it would become incredibly clear to this person we knew they had lied. We may still do that. It does sound like fun. Normally I say let sleeping dogs lie. (I had to slip that one in.) But when you have something this stupid it is really hard not to just surprise the person by showing them you know. Yes, I know it’s mean, petty and childish, but I really think we’ll do it.

Of course none of this is going to happen any time soon. Because my son goes to a religious school he has the whole week off next week. Baptists run it, so heaven knows it takes a lot of days to give thanks. One or two just won’t cut it. I think we’re supposed to use the other 3 to feel bad about all the bad things we’ve done so far this year.

Actually, I think Baptists need a day like Yom Kippur. It seems to me a bunch of people with as many rules as Baptists have could really use a day of atonement. I can only assume that the fact they don’t have one is because they don’t ever do anything wrong. I know I have never seen a Baptist do anything wrong. That is, of course, unless you count adultery, fornication, drinking, lying, drug use, stealing, assault, battery, jay walking and littering. In fact, if Baptists had more holidays I could take off I would go back to church. It would take a lot of extra holidays though.

For me, I don’t feel bad about much this year. I would use this Day of Atonement to let others know what they did wrong because I think we could all use a little help now and then.

Well, I have to get up early, take my son to school and come up with new and inventive ways to use the word shit. So you just have a good night. Unless you are waiting to read this until the morning, in which case you are going to be in trouble because you aren’t supposed to be reading blogs on company time.

You should pray for forgiveness.

I am facing a dilemma. No, I am not talking about the ex, or whether or not to buy more throw pillows. I don’t mean trying to figure out which Mervyn’s is closing since the people that do the commercials don’t bother to name the location. It’s not about deciding whether to go with a sliding screen door or one that just opens and closes. It’s not even about Chinese or Mexican for dinner.

No, the problem is this blog. Here is the thing. You guys want horror stories about my dating misadventures. You want hard no lube anal, visits from the cops, theft, lies, slaps, kicks and men in white coats taking away my dates in straight jackets. But none of that is happening. I’m not even trying to set up anything that can lead to that kind of action. I am not trying to meet anyone. I am not going anywhere where I could meet someone. When I see a hottie in the grocery store the most I do is smile and keep walking. I am not cruising the personals. I am not going to the bar. I am not even going anywhere where I could accidentally meet someone. The closest I have come to hitting on someone was mild flirting with a cashier at Home Depot, and she only seems to like me when I have my son with me.

So I sit here trying to write about the shit you seem to want to read, and it is too fucking hard. I have told all the stories I remember. There may be some memories I could recover and add to the litany of insane ex tales, but I am also not working on any memory recovery. I can’t write a decent entry about this shit without making something up, and I swore to myself I would never do that here.

I have tried to expand in to other areas, but that’s not what any of the readers want. Everyone wants the nightmare stories. If I write an entry with 20 paragraphs where 2 sentences are about dating, that is what everyone will focus on. And I can tell that everyone has noticed I am just not in to the dating shit right now.

I can’t give you what you want, sorry. I am just going to write whatever the fuck comes to my mind. If dating shit comes up, great. But if it doesn’t, I’m not going to force it. I have been, and it just isn’t working. It is taking 2-3 hours to write an entry, and when it’s done it sucks. I hate most of what I’ve written lately. It’s hard to be funny when you don’t give a shit about it. And I really don’t care.

I don’t miss dating in the least. I miss the regular sex, but not enough to deal with all the bullshit that goes along with it. I don’t miss worrying so much about what I am wearing. I don’t miss trying to impress strangers. I don’t miss trying to figure out who is interested and who isn’t. I don’t miss the games, the lies, the small talk, the phone calls, avoiding the phone calls and voicemails. I don’t miss crowded bars, bar sluts, assholes, golddiggers or players. I don’t miss getting asked, “What do you do?” and “What do you drive?” I don’t miss pretending that someone else’s job is interesting and their jokes are funny. I do miss watching the total idiots, male and female, make fools out of themselves, but most people really don’t notice as much as I do, so it’s not as much fun as it could be.

I don’t even miss going to strip clubs. Of course part of that is because since my attitude has changed and the strippers can tell. I am not a guy that can get played as easily (although I will never assume I can’t get played at all), and the strippers, being hustlers, can sense that. Suddenly I am not the nice, safe guy they can hang with all night.

So, I am going to decide what to do here. I know it will be different because the reasons the blog started just don’t exist anymore. I can’t say if you’ll like it or not. Probably not. Sorry.

Yeah…yesterday I bitch about the games they play with TV start times. Tonight they have a “special extended” episode of Lost, and the “extension” was the part where they show flashbacks from the parts we already saw. Don’t think I don’t know that this was done just to piss me off. You think I won’t come after you ABC? Well, ask the assholes over at NBC what happens when you fuck with me. Have you seen their ratings?

That reminds me. I was shocked to learn that “Geraldo at Large” is not by the makers of “Cops” and “America’s Most Wanted”.

It also sucks when you get hungry around 10 at night.

I swear that ex has decided that calling every other day is the best way to keep from spooking me. That’s OK with me on one hand because I hate the phone. If I could I would go back in time to when Alexander Graham Bell was a child and beat him with a stick until he promises to never invent anything. Ever.

But the fact she has put enough thought in to not spooking me to decide to slow down the calls is not a good sign. That means she’s serious enough to be worried about fucking this up again. I would prefer it if she was a little less concerned. Maybe a lot less concerned. Yeah, a shitload less concerned. I can see where this is going. I have decided faking an appendicitis won’t work. If I did that she’d want to see me in the hospital and even if I got past that part she’d want to make sure I was OK. So, instead, it’s back to the pretending to be gay plan.

You may be asking yourself, “Why doesn’t he just tell her?” Well, that is a good question. Thanks for asking it. Now, if you figure out the answer please let me know.

I honestly can’t think of anything interesting tonight. Maybe it was the 2 hour nap I took this afternoon. Maybe it is how remarkably boring my life has been. It could even be the fact that I am glad it’s boring. Whatever it is, I’m going to sleep. I mat write extra tomorrow. I may not. I also may by throw pillows. Strangely, I do not allow throwing of the pillows.

I understand that the people that make TV shows on cable hate us using our TiVo’s and DVR’s, but this hit where they have a program run long just to fuck with is pisses me off. I like it more than the way an HBO hour-long program may be 35 minutes long, but it’s not like those are the only choices. The people at the networks may not be able to make a decent show, but they do manage to fit the programs in to the prescribed time slots. I don’t see why a show has to suck and/or blow to fit in a one-hour time slot. And it’s not like they aren’t just sticking in pointless shit to make sure I miss the start of something else.

Tonight I watched Nip/Tuck. The fucking show runs almost 20 minutes long. There were at least 20 minutes of total bullshit they could have cut out, but no. And do they do it so I watch their next show? Nope. Their next show is the same fucking episode of Nip/Tuck I just watched. They just did it to be assholes. On one hand, I applaud the blatant assholeness of this move. Rarely do companies so clearly say, “fuck you just because we can.” But if there had been some sort of live animal theme ingredient on Iron Chef, like the long lost Kobe Beef episode where Iron Chef French Hiroyuki Sakai gets confused by what the Chairman yells and accidentally slaughters Iron Chef Italian Masahiko Kobe and then feeds him to the judges, there would have been hell to pay.

Now, I have a story to tell. I have a female friend. No, that’s not the story, and yes, it’s true. I really do have a female friend. Anyway, this is one of those women that I would have loved to be more than friends with at one point, but even I knew better. She had so many of my warning signs that even in my diminished state I knew better. She had a shitload of guy friends that all wanted to screw her. She had a psycho ex that never got over her and used their kid to get to her whenever he could. She has a family she loves but, well, even she knows they’re nuts. Basically, it was too much drama even for me.

But we have stayed friends. Off and on anyway. We talk whenever one of us thinks of the other basically. And we have been talking a little lately. But you have to love the way that people with too much drama always have too much drama.

First, she had to call to give me her new cell number. It seems her ex got the number and she was freaking out because, well, he’s nuts. Then she called back to see if I had given anyone her number which, of course, I hadn’t. We don’t really have any mutual friends. She was trying to figure out how he got it and was asking around. To be fair she never accused me. Then she called back to tell me she found out who it was. It seems a guy friend that wants to fuck her that is also knows her ex thought it would be OK to give him the number. How could he know? After all, she’s only changed numbers 3 times as long as I’ve known her for the exact same reason.

Then there was tonight. See, I used to be a really easy touch. She never asked me for anything, but I always offered. She always said no. Unfortunately for her I don’t do the money thing anymore. That crazy mom I told you about? She has some outstanding warrants. (I swear everyone in this state ends up with traffic warrants. I even had one once. Of course they conveniently swore out the warrant after I informed them I was on the way to pay it, resulting in an extra $150 fee.) But mom needs bail so the daughter needs some money. She never asked, but some hints are just a little to clear. I feel bad, but I can’t be everyone’s hero anymore.

Meanwhile on my very other day call from the ex I got another little hint dropped. This was more one of those “you need to shit or get off the pot” things. As we chatted she mentioned that some guy at work had asked her if she’d consider going out with his son (who was also there). She’s 29, he’s 20. She wouldn’t date him because she is still interested in me and also wouldn’t date a guy that’s 20, or so she says. I hope she wouldn’t. I had always hoped one thing we had in common was that neither of us would date a 20-year old guy. I almost doubt the conversation ever happened, but whether or not it did, I know I was told for a reason. I have a pass for the next few days because I have my son starting Thursday and I am way too busy tomorrow. But eventually I will have to either do something or say I have no plans to ever do anything.

Maybe I’ll just fake an appendicitis.

OK, I’m pissed. I went to cancel the damn personals account and they’d already billed me for the month. That is money wasted, but at least I have another month of access for potential blog content. I’ll have to actually start contacting women and see what happens. Since I only attract crazy women I could end up with some good stories if I put some work in to it. I just need to make sure to only let them call my cell and misspell my last name so they can’t find my house. I swear the next time I buy a house I’m putting it a super secret corporation or something. You’d be amazed how easy it is to find someone who owns a house here.

I am also annoyed because I made the mistake of having my alarm clock set to the same station Howard Stern is on. See, I kind of seceded to doze for a while. I didn’t have any pressing engagements. The problem is that, as I have mentioned many times, I sleep a lot in the REM phase. What that sometimes means is that outside influences affect what I dream about. In this case it was horrible. I had a dream that Artie Lange was visiting my house. Basically I had a fat ugly slob trash my house in this dream. So I had a dream about cleaning the mess he made. This was immediately followed by my being a World War II bomber pilot. And I actually think they were the same dream.

I hate cleaning my house for real. I sure as fuck don’t want to dream about it.

OK, back to the fun stuff. I am doing something I probably shouldn’t. I am still talking to that ex. In my defense I have to say that it is not just to get laid. If it were I’d have gotten laid by now, because she really wants me to come see her. I haven’t done that yet though. I just have some more unanswered questions. I figure that since she is relatively safe I should take this opportunity to get the answers. I survived Heather so I know I can get through this one. At most she’ll tell her family some terrible stories about me. I believe they already hate my guts so that’s OK. They may not anymore though, since she’s been actually fucked over by 2 guys since and there is the whole thing with the ex that hasn’t bothered to see his kids in like 6 months.

I don’t know if I ever mentioned why her family hates me. I know I mentioned why we finally broke up. Basically she was falling in love and I wasn’t. I was in no condition to be serious with anyone, and that level of attraction just wasn’t there on many levels. So, rather than string her along and have her think we were headed somewhere, I ended it. So, according to her mother, I broke up with her for loving me. I guess maybe I did, but I will always think I did the right thing. At very least I will always know I have done many worse things.

Anyway, I think she has gotten the gist of the fact that our talking is not at all about a desire to get serious with her. I say this because she can actually go a whole day without calling. I like that. It makes it possible to talk to her without feeling like I have a girlfriend. I never thought I’d see the day when I dodn’t want a girlfriend, but I don’t I am the only one of my friends without one, which is also a first. Even the guy that was always talking to me about having multiple girls all as “friends” at once has a serious girlfriend. It’s kind of like the fact my ex-wife never needed to buy brown shoes during fall when every store had them. She always wanted them in May. Took the damn woman months to find a pair of shoes, and, no, I am not making that up.

I also have some blog related news. If you go to Blogshares, I have the number two blog in the alcohol industry. It seems that various stories involving alcohol, puking and graffiti have paid off. At one point this week I actually had the number one blog, but someone voted a wine blog in, so I’m number two. I mention this because there are those that will tell you drinking will ruin your life but I am here to tell you it won’t. Clearly all the hard drinking has led me here. I want you, my loyal readers, to know I intend to periodically do something stupid involving alcohol to keep this lofty position. I’d say we can safely assume that these stories will involve tequila.

I wonder if there is a tequila industry. Nope. I checked. There should be. I like tequila. I particularly like Patron. I don’t like the “sipping” tequilas because, well, I want to just throw the shit back. That’s why I am not a scotch man. Scotch wants to be sipped. I want tequila that tastes just good enough that it doesn’t make me sick. Patron fits the bill. Plus it comes in a cool bottle.

Cool bottles are important. I like Grey Goose, but I honestly think that it’s the cool bottle with the frosted glass and all that shit. People like that kind of thing. Hell, Absolut was popular as much for it’s unique bottle and ads as for the fact it didn’t taste like lighter fluid, unlike most of the shit they used to call vodka.

Yeah. I’m rambling. I’m tired. I’m going to sleep. Before I do, I have mentioned before that I get emails wanting me to watch bestiality porn. Finally today I decided I’d had enough and would try to stop it. So when I got one today I sent back a reply. “No Mr. President. For the last time I am not going to watch the surveillance video of you and Monica!”

This is one of those nights where I haven’t given a thought all day about what to write. I got bogged down doing stupid shit like buying t-shirts, doing laundry and folding said laundry (as well as 4 other loads I never got around to folding). Fuck I hate folding laundry. If I could have any one invention it would be a laundry-folding machine.

What I am warning you is that my mind will now wander around a bit, so this could be either really funny, or it could suck goat balls. I am betting it sucks goat balls.

First off, I bet the goofy kid from the grocery store doesn’t read my blog, but I have a message to him. When the other really hot checker comes over to talk to you on her way to clock out for lunch, and in the course of a totally non-work conversation she asks out of the blue if you are married, that is your hint to ask her out. I know it seems she is way out of your league. It is possible she needs glasses, because she is way out of your league. In fact, the two of you don’t even play the same sport. But, she is interested in you you dumbfuck. When I stopped to give you the debit card I found on the ground it took a great deal of restraint to keep from smacking you upside the head and asking you why you let her walk off without asking her out. Shit, you should have immediately asked your boss if you could go to lunch right then too.

And, yes, after I gave them the debit card I considered the shopping spree I could have gone on.

Also, it is about 80 degrees here right now. Unlike everyone else, I am not going to complain. I like the weather. It’s nice being able to wear shorts and t-shirts. I like being able to have the windows and doors open. It’s great not having to run either the heater or the air conditioner. Now, since we have weather like this a lot in the late fall and early spring. So why the fuck do the stores insist on trying to sell me winter clothes? I just want some fucking t-shirts. I can wear them about 10 months a year. There is no reason to not sell them because there is a good chance I will be able to wear them soon, even if I can’t wear them right now. I appreciate the “end of season sale”. But more than that I would appreciate being able to get what I want in my fucking size. We don’t need the heavy-duty winter wear you filled the store with except like 10 days a year. How about you have a small section of that and not of the goddamn t-shirts?

Oh, and to the people of Target, what the hell were you thinking? I know that your new store is close to the interstate, but have you actually bothered to see who lives there? That particular area does not understand Starbucks. For all they know Starbuck’s is run by the cute guy from Battlestar Galactica. When the people you are trying to sell to are walking down the men’s underwear aisle and are both stunned by the selection AND shocked at what Fruit of the Loom goes for, you are in the wrong area. Don’t get me wrong. I am glad to be able to get to one of your stores that are just off an Interstate. It is a lot easier than the drives that force me to deal with traffic lights and trains. But you are in serious trouble with that store.

Lots of places Wal Mart goes you really can’t follow. Don’t feel bad about that. Just accept it. Between you and me I’d consider it a good thing. There’s a reason that even when I’m forced to go to Wal Mart I don’t go to that one. It’s fucking scary. Do you know they actually hold country and western concerts in the Wal Mart parking lot? At least I think that is what they were doing. It might have been a Klan rally. I didn’t see any burning crosses, but it was still daytime and I think they do that after dark. I do know that I am lily white and there is about a 15-mile stretch of that Interstate that is so white it even scares me. Remember, the voters of that nearby town White Settlement just voted against changing the name. They just ain’t Target people there. That’s all I’m saying.

Have you ever seen the National Pastry Championships and World Pastry Championships on Food Network? If you haven’t, they not only make desserts, they have to make huge centerpieces. One is made of chocolate and the other of pulled sugar. The shit is amazing. But the weirdest thing is that my son once stayed up till 11 to watch it with me. He loved it. In fact, he’s pissed off that it’s not on every Saturday at 10. He even watched one where they made giant chocolate pieces not for a contest but for shows and the like. He thought the 6 foot tall chocolate Santa was particularly cool. It’s kind of strange for a 7-year old to want to watch people make giant pulled sugar statues, but that’s what he likes. I think he also likes it when they come crashing down after a whole day’s work. I know I do, but I’m a mean fucker.

Well, I’d like to write more, but the rest of what is on my mind is even more boring. You’d never make it through.

You know what sucks? It’s really hard to blog and watch a foreign film at the same time. I have to keep looking up to see the fucking subtitles. Luckily there are really dull stretches where nothing is being said worth knowing anyway. Of course what really sucks is that they redubbed much of the French anyway, so they could have just done the damn thing in English anyway. This would have made sense since the fucking production is actually an English film that just happens to include clips from French films and newsreels. I know I’m being selfish, lazy and particularly American. But for Christ’s sake, if you are going to redub the shit anyway, and you are making it for an English speaking audience, go ahead and dub the shit in to English.

Sorry for that aside.

Anyway, I mentioned last night I had 2 things on my mind. I think I am going to take down my personals ad. I am not spending any time checking for women I’m interested in, so it’s kind of a waste. But the real reason is the responses I have been getting.

It’s not just responses from women I’m not interested in. That is part of the game. Men and women both respond to ads that are long shots at best. It’s worth a try, so I don’t see anything wrong with it. The real problem I have is the bizarre responses I get that make me question my sanity.

The first set was all the same. I don’t mean the same type of response; I mean the exact same response. About every couple of days I get messages from various women using the exact same text about how I am her top match. I actually communicated with one of these just to see what their game was, and they just wanted me to check out a paid webcam. Now, I usually talk about men being stupid, but they must be really fucking stupid if these scammers can send the exact same message from various accounts repeatedly to the same guy and the guy will keep falling for it.

Then there were the responses from “women” who swear they are Russian hotties prowling the personals in search of American men to marry. Now, I know there really are women willing to marry anyone to get here, but I doubt they spend much time on the personals. Plus, they seemed to have an amazing similarity in their replies too. By amazing, I mean they too are using the exact same text repeatedly. Again, how many of those can a guy get and honestly believe they are legit? Apparently a shitload.

Then there was the one I got from a girl in Nigeria. This one was fun because she actually messaged me. That meant I got to interact with her in real time. Of course her broken English and claim to be in West Africa to raise money to bring her mother with her to the United States were pretty good hints she was a scammer too. But she had an interesting tactic. She sent me a picture of herself. Just one because her “scanner is broked”. I found it interesting that a Nigerian would send me a picture of an Asian woman dressed scantily and acting provocatively, but I gave her a chance to explain that away to see what she would say. But, no, she insisted she is African. Apparently Nigerian women just look Filipino.

She needs to work on her scam though. See, as I have mentioned, my ad doesn’t have any of that bullshit about wanting a soul mate. No, it says I just want to have some fun. So telling me you are looking for “truly luv” is not going to be very effective. Also ineffective is saying you want “God's fearing”. In general, I have nothing against Christians. But as a guy looking for fun, a deeply religious woman is unlikely to fit the bill. That whole thing about not wanting sex before marriage gets in the way.

I was in a rather obnoxious mood though, so I played with her a bit. I let her know I didn’t think things would work. Specifically I said, “You are a good girl looking for love. I just want to fuck like a rabbit”. I was wondering if she would change her tune in hopes of playing me for money, but she didn’t. Her protest was fun though because, while she likes sex, she doesn’t like to have sex “like rabbit”. I tried to angle that to have more fun but it didn’t work. I get the feeling she knew at this point it was not going to work. That may have happened when I mentioned that lots of Americans lost money when Nigerians claiming to be women messaged them from personal ads.

Being a generous soul I did offer her some free advice though. If you aren’t looking for sex, it is best not to send a pic of a hot Filipino woman in tight shorts pulling up her shirt standing next to a pool table. It sends the wrong message.

Then, this morning, I got another response. This one I have no idea what to think of. I was sleeping in, so we didn’t get to chat. The whole thing screamed scam though, since it was from a woman in Florida who had just moved there from California (according to the message). Now, I don’t know about you, but I tend to search the personals for the state I am in. I might search the state I came from, but I sure as fuck am not interested in a “relationship” with someone from a state I don’t live in, have never lived in, and don’t plan to visit. Call me crazy, but that doesn’t sound like much fun. Besides, if all I am going to get is phone sex, I may as well just pay the $2.49/minute. With them I don’t need to engage in any chitchat, nor do I need to keep up the conversation after I cum.

I have come to the conclusion that I can get attention from women I don’t want, as well as offers from people pretending to like me who just want my