R. Kelly Wants My Ass?

"My rocket is full of fuel, baby.
Girl I promise that will be painless.
We're gonna make a trip to planet Uranus."

-"Sex Planet" by R. Kelly

Whenever I need a good laugh, I find myself looking over various lyrics to rappers. Not only are they constantly bringing on the bragging and sex talk but also showing how little is left in this wordplay. It's been said. It's been done. Now, can we all just admit that this whole 'It's culture' should stop. I don't know of any black people with cars that cost as much as a house. Nor do I know of any that have such amazing sex appeal that women swoon to them. If anything I learned in college, it's more likely the black guys standing around staring at girls in hopes that their looks alone will get a phone number.

Note: This is from a hick college I attended, a place where a drunken white guy can get as much ass as a toilet seat as long as she's pretty damn ugly.

I'm a bit lost as to what I am doing to myself. According to my friend that looks as if he is hiding a globe underneath his shirt, Richard, I am getting bigger. By 'bigger' I mean more muscle and that is not what I want. It kind of stung to sit there while resting between bicep sets and find out that my assumptions are true.

Working out goes like this. You lift heavy weight for bigger muscles though a lot of this depends on genetics. Lighter weight lifting tends to tone more and build up endurance. You'll see more veins rather than that bulky appearance I hate to see. Sure, football players look great and all but I like to be able to move fast with the form of a soccer player. Many people would call it a blessing to have the genes for football but it's a curse for me. In college, it's nice to be big since it wards off potential fights at parties. Now, I just want to be able to run for longer periods of time.

You've got your goals and I've got mine. Yeah, it almost sounds like whining but I'm always in such amazement of the human body. Be it, how a person can train it to never tire out or for that sex act that never seems to shut down. A perfectly fit person can do a lot more and I want that.

Just ask 5-Pound Phooey. No, she didn't get beat up by a cat this time. What 5-Pound Phooey did was taunt a few labs across the street. Just how do people train their dogs to behave so well? Mine's like an irritable old lady pissed off that the bingo parlor is closed for the year.

So, I see Livejournal has deleted all its sex blogs and sex entries. Weird to hear of this because you and I both know that I enjoy frank discussions on sex. Hell, I've been dropped from people's lists all because of my never-fearing right to bring up an act that has pretty much lost all its mysteriousness. It's a fact that 3rd Graders know as much about ejaculation and the joys of oral sex as I had to wait til 8th Grade. No, I didn't lose my virginity til AFTER high school but did find it quite odd to hear that women take penises in their mouths at some point.

But to censor entries pertaining to sex!?! Quite a shame since I've been rescued from this belief that the act should be only taken upon in marriage. Damn nuns and private Catholic school! Hello, Kristan and her undying pussy wetness discovered while cock is deep in her mouth! I'm not one to read a lot of sex blogs but I will most certainly defend them til you find me buried underneath the sea.

Note: Yes, I am still with my mind in Pirates Of the Caribbean.......

I'm not even sure that sexual entries can have the effect they once did. Way back when, it was 'Penthouse's' letters in its Forum that would strike my young cock to burst forth. Those words: "wet cunt" and "soaked panties" did have a way with me. I would imagine myself finding my fingers deep inside a girl's pants for the first time to see just what all the commotion was about. No longer. Nothing really makes me want to read a sex blog unless it's something new. Even then, it could just be for laughs since, yes, the image of a 50-year-old guy wearing women's underwear can cause me many chuckles. Just imagine how hard it is to hide this love of lace when shopping at Wal-Mart as he talks about.

Note: It was said that the censoring happened as to protect children. What they forgot was that many noted bloggers were letting out their experiences about being molested. Words can heal.

I wish things still had the power they once had. There is power in reading since I love a good book. My guess is that at some point, 'Letters To Penthouse', have very little effect all because we've experienced it all. At least, I have. I've fingered her, been smacked on the ass, enjoyed being rimmed, fucked, let loose a pool on her breasts, and so on. What's yo' fancy? It's like that old interview with the rapper, Too Short, where he said there are only so many words for 'bitch.' How many times can a guy read the word, 'pussy', and see its effect whither away?

Someday, I'm gonna play around with this blog some more. I'll have my own digital camera to play around with and put up all sorts of things. Sara's the best when it comes to computers so it's possible I can get her to do some magic. The reason is simple. I may feel at home but this blog doesn't feel completely like mine..........yet. I'm jealous of what some people are able to do and be so open at showing. Cats, tits, suitors, lovers, ass, and artwork. It's really the simplicity that can be so beautiful so it's no wonder corporate minds suck.

Oh, I'd like to clarify that my hatred for my old home, Diaryland, has more to do with 2-way communication. You expect me to read you? Well, you placed me on your faves list but don't come by here? Don't expect me to visit you but laugh when I see you've made an amazingly boring entry as you do everyday. Some of the people I added are as slow-minded as molasses. I'm just glad to be away from them where I can let it all out here on Blogger. At least, my faves like Hoar, Summer, Zu, and Sammy came. They were pretty much there in the beginning.....

So, I'm off like a farmer's belt upon hearing a naked ewe has entered the woods. I've filled out another application to be turned in tomorrow and will again face the day's heat. A day is best ended with a t-shirt that must be peeled off. You'll know that once head hits pillow, sleep comes mega fast. Happy twats all around.

Asskicking And Asswashing

"Life is cruel. Why should the afterlife be any different?"

-Pirates Of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest

I've been sitting here wondering why I find pirates so amusing. Knowing me, it's just a matter of time til my warped mind finds a reason. I like pirates because they do things by their own code rather than following the latest reasoning for even the most absurd. Know this one: "We must fight them there so we don't have to fight them here." Apparently, a lot of Americans believe this completely stupid reasoning for the war in Iraq, especially for all those Republicans hoping to be elected to office in 2008. I forgot which Republican that stood against this, only to find himself with much criticism, was brave enough to ask that we rethink things. Could it be that we (yes, us) meddled in too many foreign affairs that caused Muslim extremists to want to harm us?

But we also need pirates in Hollywood. The ridiculous salaries being demanded by actors and actresses make me wonder why I should pay $9 to see any movie these days. It's like how Sara told me that with that kind of money you could almost buy the damn DVD. I'm fine with seeing flicks for free considering how Hollywood finds it perfectly alright to make major tweaks to my favorite characters while telling me that $100 million spent is well worth it. I'm sorry but I don't see the people that handle the lighting and real work like building the sets being given much gratitude all while stars absolutely must have 1,000's of dollars worth of extravagances. Does a poodle need a personal trainer? Keep the bootlegging of DVDs alive!

Yes, I finished Pirates Of the Caribbean: At World's End. Quite nice. Not only was it much better than the 2nd but full of the usual plot-holes and various events that left me scratching my head. I'm human so I can overlook things like that as long as I am having fun. Keira in a Chinese pirate outfit? Dashing! Lots of Jack Sparrows? I've had days like that where I felt like many little Hedgehoggies were ruining my ability to sit still and think. Keith Richards of the Rolling Stones was perfect! I say let there be pirates! It's too bad Disney did all this so it had to be all goody-goody. If sexy pirates is your game, there is a porn version by that name. Could a wooden leg be as valuable as a dildo for those long weeks that a wench must go without her captor?

My mum's surgery went fine. I forgot to mention this because it was so routine that it's almost like it didn't happen. Mum was gone from the morning til around 3pm. I'm not home much from that time either so it worked out fine that I dealt with the dogs and various errands. For some reason, her teacher friends sent her a card with $100 and gift cards. Guess who made a suggestion for the good type of fish sandwiches?

5-Pound Phooey and I had quite an adventure. I rescued a dog and she got her ass kicked by a cat. Want to read about it? Of course, you do! That's what being a part of this grand illusion is, that I'm sitting right down next to you and telling you these things. I'll whisper in your ear and hope you get wet with anticipation at the mere mention of a little dog and her insane excuse of a male.

A dog was loose while I was on my usual walk with 5-Pound Phooey. An Alaskan sled dog is no mere dog. It is THE dog I wish to own one day so there was no way I was going to allow for a chance that it would be hit by a car. I was impressed with how its eyesight was since it was a good distance away yet it saw us. 5-Pound Phooey did her usual stance to make herself look bigger while throwing out 4-letter doggy words. You know what's funny? When a large dog looks down at a small one and its eyes say:

"What the fuck?"

While crouching down, I looked at the collar for a possible address. Memorized it and motioned for the dog to follow me. Mind you, this is the point that I am carrying my little cursing ball of fur that is begging for an asskicking. Found the house and rang the doorbell. 5-Pound Phooey is now making it her point to further annoy the cat she has chased underneath the van next to me. Some hisses and several boinks where cat has smacked her to get its point known took place. If you've never seen a Yorkshire Terrier pissed, you'll know by the fucked up look thanks to hair being completely out of place. It was here that another quote took place thanks to 5-Pound Phooey:

"What the fuck?"

I have to say that 5-Pound Phooey was mighty quiet after getting her ass kicked underneath a van. Yes, I noticed the cat sitting in the driveway that she wanted to piss off but was more concerned about the dog needing to go home. Maybe this time 5-Pound Phooey will stop with her mouth. Who am I kidding? She hates every critter but loves people.

Got another application to fill out. Poop. I'm getting to the point where I'm pretty much fed up with not being able to be seen as employable. The one that really pissed me off was not getting the mock personal training job. Who else works out like I do? I'll get wealthy senior citizens off their lazy asses and in shape in no time.

Since I've been exploring all sorts of blogs, I came across one that begs me to question how a person gets this job. Did you know that porn companies hire pussy/ass washers? Oh....my, I would be so perfect! I mean, I love getting a girl squeaky clean prior to a romp in the sheets (or woods or car or office or pirate ship or copy machine) seeing as the sight of her bent over with legs spread invites for mucho perfection. Things so beautiful should not be allowed any kind of dirtiness (unless you are into that kind of thing, wink wink). I've read that a lot of men love to bathe women and I'm no different. Sara would be my letter of recommendation since she laughs, while bent over, at how I get hard while doing so. Women can be so spoiled seeing as men love to make an other wise annoying job like cleaning her ass so much fun since we are so obsessed with their holes.

Porn blogs are getting to be a mild guilty pleasure. I've always wanted to know what goes on behind the scenes so candid pictures of various women getting their make-up touched up, discussions as to where the cum is going, how much to sell soiled panties to fans, various lardass males in the background hoping to get laid, and actresses bent over getting cleaned up by the luckiest employees ever make it great. Keep up the good work and safe for rimming!

Oh, and, yes, I am still a little weirded out over Sara's dad walking in on that blowjob. It's a bit late to discuss how the possibility of getting caught in such behavior makes for more of a thrill. I'm still worn out. The cats, allergies, lack of sleep, and my right knee hurting have all take a toll on me. I've never been able to figure out how I can come back from something and insist on going right into my usual ridiculous need to exercise my demons away when its clear I need rest. All it takes is 5-Pound Phooey's little dark eyes..........Happy twats all around.

Blowjob Interrupted

"I think it would be rather exciting to meet a pirate."

-Elizabeth Swan from Pirates Of the Caribbean

Do you want to know the most interesting thing, to me, about the whole pirates thing? Of course, you do! I'm always a thrill a minute ever since I dropped that dead weight called 'Diaryland.' It was so cursed with people that think they should be allowed to write about their useless lives and non-ability to actually themselves smarter than their friends/co-workers. What's the point in describing those whose whole lives you feel are useless when your entries just show how truly pathetic you are? That's why I find myself visiting Diaryland once a day just to see whom in my faves is still updating. Those that I enjoy still to this day and have followed me here to Blogger will get a visit from me. The others? I just laugh and click out of Diaryland.

Pirates didn't discriminate. I found that to be a thrill when it came to the whole ideal about sailing the seas with baddies that loot and plunder. Compare that to Christianity, a religion that says you must not question God or be different. I'd rather be a pirate.

Obviously, the reason I bring up pirates is because I'm busy with watching the latest. I'm 1 hour in so I can't make a review just yet. What I've seen so far, I like. Better than the mess of a second one, I say. I'm not sure if that was the first or second time I ever came close to falling asleep in the movie theater, during the Pirates Of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest. The only reason I saw anything was all due to my slumber being distracted by the loveliness of Keira Knightley, our Miss Elizabeth Swan.

Ah, but you'd rather hear about what happened this weekend. Me, too. I look back at it as one of the longest weekends ever. It involved being disappointed by a critically praised movie, a cabin, and a blowjob interrupted. While I'm sure Lindsay Lohan's Memorial Day Weekend was far more drama-enhanced, mine certainly had its moments.

This being the longest weekend, I am having trouble remembering what happened on Friday, the start. I think it involved a Mexican restaurant where a few enchiladas were ordered by me. 'Verdes' means hot. Pass that on, kids. It's one to grown on when it comes to Mexican words. I love hot stuff so no complaints come out of this mouth.

It was decided by Sara and I that we should join her parents up north in their cabin. I wanted to experience a little fishing, see this elusive cabin I've heard a lot about, and be away from the cats. 1 out of 3 aint bad.

There was no fishing due to weather and a cat came with the parents. After walking around for a short bit, I came across it sleeping. My hopes of being able to sneeze less were dashed. Oh, damn you, nose! There are times when a boy really hates to see his boogers slide off a room's windows.

I liked the cabin. It's kind of secluded from the usual life we live, people being all around us and cars are lined up nearby. There was more grass than I'm used to during a visit to Indiana since Sara's in the downtown area, complete with lots of neat little restaurants and bars or a walk over the bridge into the neighboring town's college portion. It's too bad most of the time was spent inside playing cards and watching a few DVDs instead of in a boat with a rod complaining about fish not biting. According to fisherman law:

"The worst day of fishing beats the best day of work" or "Old fisherman never die. They just smell that way."

What really kept us indoors with a vengeance was the mass of mosquitoes. You could literally see a dark smear of air headed in your direction while standing outside to look out at the river's banks. Only 2 bites were allowed til I realized how stupid I was standing outside. Apparently, my B+ blood-type is quite tasty. All these veins sticking out of my forearms can cause a mosquito to cry in complete happiness. "Oh, what have I done to deserve such a tasty morsel!?!"

Remember when I mentioned how I purchased Pan's Labyrinth due to being curious how this movie received such amazing praise? It's box talked of how it was on over 130 movie critics' Top Ten Lists. Well, I thought it was just okay. Sure, there was some originality but nothing to go outside and shout for others to come see. A little girl comes to live with an evil dictator fighting rebels for freedom only to find a labyrinth that holds 3 tasks for her to complete. The tasks were far too short and the only welcome sight was how beautiful the movie presented the mystical portions. It's too bad because I liked the director's other movies, especially his major turn on Blade 2 and Hellboy.

But the blowjob interrupted heard around the world? Sara and I only stayed with her parents in the cabin for 1 night. While I enjoyed it, having to stay in such small place for fear of being attacked by mosquitoes didn't sit well. I like roaming around outside so home was a better choice. Funny thing, though. I loved the bed's comfortable feel to it when sleeping in it with Sara. She was out of her clothes in no time while I was trying to figure this out. You see, Sara once told me that her parents were very conservative (Never saw this as well) so I thought I'd have to sleep elsewhere, a safe bet since the girl does bite me.

It was Monday, the day after we got back from the cabin, that had us watching recorded Veronica Mars episodes Sara had for playing catch-up. Mind you, that's 4 hours of me sitting there barely able to breathe thanks to cat allergies coming on strong. After all that, Sara asked which sexy show to watch. HBO's Cathouse? Kim Catrall's Sex special? Real Sex? The Orgasm Special? I chose The Orgasm Special even though I had a feeling I've seen it before.

Girls, when watching a sexy show that has dildos being used in order to show how to pleasure a male, isn't it best to go along all this by unzipping your boyfriend? That's what Sara did as we watched what was called "Penis Samba." Here I was sitting on a leather sofa with my shorts down quite a bit as Sara copied the circle of women stroking dildos. All sorts of motions that involved 1 or 2 hands was carried out. Yes, the penis was pleased. Veiny and angry looking but, otherwise, very pleased.

Obviously, a blowjob happened. And, yes, this said blowjob was interrupted when Sara's dad walked in the door. Never have I seen my girlfriend move so fast. Never have I seen the look on a father's face as to the fact that his daughter is kneeling in front of her boyfriend doing what comes naturally. Lucky was Sara and I that her mom was slowed down by the carrying of cabin supplies while wearing sunglasses. Good thing that a penis can go from hard to soft all thanks to the sight of a large man with a mustache looking directly at it.

The funniest thing happened. First, I laughed and then Sara did, too. The dad headed on up the steps while a confused mother walked in. Once the mom was gone, Sara and I high-fived each other. My belief? Sara has officially been initiated into The Bad Girl's Club, a club that finds it members giving out sudden blowjobs, showing various portions of their underpants, stripping in strip joints for fun, giving occasional handjobs to boyfriends because a good penis should not go to waste, and looking at naked women in magazines. Not only did Sara get initiated but dived in head first with a large smile across her face as the warm water hit her tits.

I'll be more into the feeling of being caught having some sort of sexual activity later. I'm still extremely tired and worn out thanks to barely being able to sleep due to cats. When I woke up, I felt like I could have gone directly back to sleep. Not even the look on Sara's mom's face in shock to see just how big I really am without a shirt on helped. Happy twats all around.

Mom, Dad's Lookin' At Me Funny

"Breakdown....takedown.......you're BUSTED!"

-"Shakedown" by Bob Segar

Can I get a show of hands as to how many of you have ever caught your parents having sex? C'mon, anyone? I know it's quite possibly the most embarassing situation to have happen to you. Do you close the door? Laugh? Come over and give your parents pointers as to what they should do like recommend a better lube? Do you clap or bring out large cymbals?

Well, Sara and I had a very interesting moment just over 6 hours ago. Would you like to know that her dad walked in on her giving me a blowjob? Just how embarassed would you be if your dad came in while a penis was in your mouth? For me, it's Sara's dad's facial expression that will haunt me for a month or even more. Sara and I were lucky in that it was only her dad since the mom was just about to enter. By then, a throw was on my lap and I was laughing.

So, it's official. My girlfriend, Sara, is officially in the Bad Girl Club. You know those types. They're seen walking around no caring that their panties are clearly visible (Sara shows hers and her ass crack a lot), known to take off tops at strip joints (Sara's, well.........yeah), and occasionally feel their boyfriends up while driving on the interstate (75mph handjob = greatness). I guess it's not surprising that she just might be in a strip joint as I'm typing this.

Seriously. I gave Sara a high-five after the dad walked up the steps. The look of shock on his face must be worth the amount of quiet I got during dinner. Yes, Sara and I stayed for dinner while Mom kept telling me there was corn on the cob awaiting me. Since I was hungry and burgers were on the grill, I couldn't turn down a nice meal after having to zip up so fast.

So, life........hope y'all had a great Memorial Day Weekend. I've got lots to say about mine and how it all led to the blowjob. Unfortunately, I only arrived home 2 hours ago, my ass is sore, and I'm pretty damn tired after dealing with cat allergies all weekend. I'm just happy I wasn't cumming right as the door opened. Happy twats all around.

Sleep With Me=Live Forever

"Never trust a big butt and a smile"

-Bell Biv Devoe

I'm having body issues. Remember when I said that I was working on making myself a wee bit smaller? Well, it feels like fo'-eva. I weighed myself for the first time in a long while and still find myself at or near 200 lbs. While this used to be a goal due to an impossibly fast metabolism, it's now that I'd like to go back to a more toned soccer player look. Actually, I think David Beckham could use some muscle in the chest and shoulders area but that's just my opinion.

Of course, I'm still staying the course. Oh, look! I quoted our shit-for-brains president! The amount of weight I am lifting is a lot smaller. The 10 minutes of running on the treadmill really give me a kick in the arse. That's not saying that I hate it. It's just that it's summer, far more soppy wet due to sweat. All of us guys know when it's just too hot. I've had many moments where I've had to look around me to make sure no one is watching as I peel my balls off my legs. I'm big, yo.

Who knows. Maybe I'll get the look I want. Maybe I won't. It's just that I like having a goal in mind instead of just going into something without a plan of some time. There have been a few improvements. I'm running better without all that coughing or needing to breathe heavily after I got lead to a certain point by a small dog that has just sighted a squirrel and wishes to beat the shit out of it not knowing that those fuzzy faces are actually quite deadly. My biceps feel much nicer and more defined. The shoulders, when flexed, show a lot of definition. Don't you just love sinewy muscle strands? Anyway, I'm tired of looking like one of those guys everyone asks how much he bench presses.

Anyway, it's all back to high school. My friend, Tamallah, wants me to investigate a guy in the gym. She's pretty sure he's a player and blah, blah, blah. The whole issue is whether that small Indian girl is the guy's girlfriend and that Tamallah isn't being led on. I just have this knack for paying attention to various people so da skills are being put to use.

Tamallah and I ended up in a huge debate as to what makes it obvious someone is a significant other. The agreement was when a guy will walk up to her when she is using the treadmill and talk. No guy I know does that for a friend. This guy comes to the gym with the little Indian girl and leaves with her. Tamallah is suspicious of all this but is slowly being pulled into it all. My guess is that the best way to a girl's heart is to work out with her and show that charm. By the way, I missed a lot of my workout due to this long discussion.

The investigation goes like this. Since I'm in the gym near or at the time the Indian girl is there, I have to slowly inch my way into asking her whether the guy is her boyfriend. Am I amused? Oh, yeah. Tamallah has been a friend of mine for a long while and aint nobody using her.

So, yeah, there is drama. I've always said that I wish people would just wear rings to tell others to back off. It's not to show ownership or being owned but to make it easier on the sexes. No one wants to waste time into the eventual asking out only to find he/she is seeing someone else. Yes, there is a small love of the pursuit but I still prefer to know. The only problem for us gym-goers is that many of us wear gloves that will hide finger jewelry.

You can see loneliness in Tamallah. She's a very cute black woman of supreme power that will make a guy's eyes melt with the size of her butt. Just about every black guy we have in our gym knows her or that ass protected only by a thin fabric of black lycra. Ever since her break up with the fiancee,' Tamallah has found that just about every man is a player trying to use her. In other words, there are no nice black guys willing to look into her heart but that butt of hers.

Don't you love it when I get deep like that?

So, are men becoming a problem? Bald-O's lil' brother makes me wonder as well. On my last visit, I found out that he's been fucking a girl he calls 'ugly' and a 'whore.' It's once a week that he goes to this girl's trailer, fucks her, and then leaves. Mind you, there are 2 kids. I don't know much about this girl. For one thing, I was pretty sloshed the night I met her and was paying more attention to the movie on TV, Running Scared.

Is it our intention to use each other? I've never fucked a girl that I didn't like. I'm picky because I want someone that soothes my head as well as my cock. There's gotta be something or many things that make her unique over me. With Sara, I'm insanely amazed at her paintings, especially the dark ones. You wouldn't consider me her type because she doesn't like muscles so there must be something that keeps her with me. Sara told me on her last visit that she truly loves me so...........

Bald-O and pretty much every guy I know finds it insane how I am so picky with who I put my cock inside. Weird. I'm the one with the longest amount of names when it comes to women he's bedded. All have been beautiful in some way other than just faces. Jen had this weird personality of silliness that matched mine. Kristan and I could get hot talking politics as she teased me by bending over nude. Michelle was a stoner but had an adorable face that matched her love of Volkswagon vans. I could go on but the biggest fact is that Bald-O only met Jen.

I love sleeping with women! It's the best thing in the world next to a pile of puppies leaping on me to lick my face. There is something that gives me a complete excuse to sleeping completely naked. Well, there is something to be said for waking up and finding a girlfriend in the 69 position while playing with my cock. Breakfast in bed! There is the skin's heat as you curl up close, placing my swollen dick in between her ass's crack since the body temperature soothes it, nuzzling her neck, holding her tight, running the palm of my hand in between her legs to feel her asshole and pussy, laughing at how long my toes are, having her sleep with her head on my chest, holding her breasts in the palms of my hands, taking pictures considered obscene by others, looking at each other's intimate parts, deciding who has the worst morning breath, watching each other dress, and making weird monkey sounds. The inevitable is beating the other to the bathroom to pee. I swear I have come close to whining while she sits there.

Every woman sleeps differently. Sara tends to move around a bit. She'll start off on her side and then in mid-sleep will suddenly cling to me. Well, there are the laughs when I try to explain to Sara that she does tend to kick me off the bed every now and then. Kristan was not the cuddle type. In fact, I wonder how I got okay with cuddling. It was like right after sex with her that we'd just end up on seperate sides of the bed all while trying to avoid the very obvious 'wet spot.' There were a lot of those because that bed reeked of semen and pussy juices due to fucking 12 times a day back then. Jen passed a lot of gas. That's where I'm ending this discussion and not even going into the other women I've slept with.

I'll sleep with friends. No, not that type of sleeping with but curling up next to a female friend. I don't know about you but I like knowing someone is there when I'm most vulnerable. It's kind of like going back to the time you were little and scared of the dark. To me, I'm completely fine with being right next to a girl. This is quite possibly due to most of my friends being women and that pretty much started right out of high school. Sleepovers with people you enjoy being around are the best. Picture your best friends in sleeping bags in a circle all in the living room. After hundreds of giggles, there is a moment where everyone is off dreaming and feeling perfectly safe. Funny how I keep thinking back to falling asleep next to Sara's mom while watching that Beatles movie, A Hard Day's Night.

I once asked a friend what she would say is the best description of being married. "A sleepover that never ends." As insane as it sounds, that pretty much sums it up.

Can the ending of a movie make me so fucking insane for sex? Ever seen Pret-a-Porter (aka Ready To Wear)? This 90's movie is about the stupidity and intrigue valued by the fashion industry. It also just so happens to have an incredible ending where all the models, many are well-known supermodels like Eve, come out completely starkers. Not British? This means these beautiful slender women walk down the runway naked, bushes and all. I was impressed by how nicely groomed their pussies were, thin and bare away from the hipbones but long in the center. Be it, a few black women, white women, and one very pregnant model all had their gorgeous bodies on display. Relax, it's just hair and nice perky breasts. No small animals were harmed at the sight of naked women but one male wishing his girlfriend was here so he could eat her out like a madman with a continuously salivating tongue that just won't stop. By the way, I try to always remember to kiss my girlfriend's pussy afterwards.

So, obviously I have embarassed myself and need to be given 10 lashes on my bare bottom. Would have to be done soon since I might be found in the woods this weekend with Sara and her parents. Not sure what the plan is but, yes, I will be in Indiana starting tomorrow and then a cabin with canoeing and fishing involved. Please, do something with your lives instead of watching TV this weekend. I beg you to put down the Cheetos and go for a walk or have crazy filthy sex with your sweetheart. Happy twats all around.

Just Go Cheap

"I'm a really easy person to bribe. All it takes is scrambled eggs and hash browns and I'm yo' bitch."

-Me

Ah, summer. It's the time of year where pawn shops are busy with black people popping open their trunks to sell the loot from their latest burglaries or 'friends' since it's gettin' so hard to afford all those gas prices. It was today that I watched the pawn shop across the street as I waited for the comic shop to open. I'm serious in saying that everyone dropping stuff off was black. It wasn't completely full of stereotypes because not all the cars had giant rims. Not everything being dropped off was stereo equipment. It's just that I know there have been a mass of burglaries up north and pawn shops have been busier every since the gas prices went up.

Don't you dare call me a racist. Car after car, it was the same ol' thing. I get a kick out of people telling me that I live in a world that needs to stop saying things about what I see. Really? I'm a realist and just about every fucking event in the newspaper's police blotter has the same damn thing: Black male between the ages of 15-35. Fuck off.

Oh, and this bitching about gas prices is wearing thin. I can understand if you are forced to travel due to work. What I don't understand is people that drive around aimlessly. You know the type. They like to show off their cars or pile the kids up in the SUV to go for ice cream. They, then, stand outside to complain with others that are also wearing a recently purchased Ralph Lauren polo short-sleeved top.

Why don't people walk? When I go see Sara, we walk a pretty good distance to get ice cream (not a huge portion, mind you) and look over books at Borders. It's fun in this type of weather, sunny and quite warm but we walk more at night due to the coolness. Sara feels safe with me, seeing as people constantly comment on my arms/chest/or my super sexy bird legs. It's just that we don't get this feeling that we must drive to places all the time nor do we watch TV excessively like the average American. Personally, I'd rather read a book, have sex, talk, go for a walk, sit back on the porch, run with 5-Pound Phooey, work out, drink lemonade, draw, go see a baseball game, or anything that doesn't involve watching TV for too many hours.

And Americans are called pigs for a reason. For some reason, we MUST shop to keep up with Paris Hilton. We must get the latest DVD or the second version with better special features. We must get our bellies filled with fattening food and enjoy a long smoke afterwards. We must watch reality TV shows til bedtime and then ask why we are fat. We must drive to a destination that is only 2 blocks. We must fight for the right to smoke in bars and pollute the streets with cigarette butts. We must hold large meetings in quads about how great it would be to inhale weed only to leave the area polluted with litter. We must complain about not having any money after spending it all on wasteful things because the stores had sales. We must wait 30 minutes in line at Starbucks for a latte after telling the kids to hurry their lazy asses up (In fact, they're still in the car) because Mommy needs her expensive coffee fix that will have the kids dropped off far too early for school. We must complain about the costs of raising kids after the 4th because condoms are just too expensive.

Well, I'm part British and I kind of foresaw the gas prices going up. What did I do? Stocked up like a motherfucker so I don't have to deal with driving so much. Socks? Got 162 pairs and will no longer need any for............forever! Underwear? Nearly 100 pairs of Calvins. DVDs? I'm a rental store just waiting to open but I don't buy much anymore. Reality TV show? Don't watch 'em anymore. The only show I watch and cannot miss is Veronica Mars and the occasional HBO/Showtime series. Mind you, none of these involves obese black women that cannot figure out how to behave in a department store. Life is grand when you don't feel any sort of need to shop. I love my t-shirts and shorts and don't feel any sort of need to update my wardrobe.

Yes, I can be called a hypocrite for owning so much but why? I loan my DVDs to those that want them. I don't need clothes for a long, long time. Why do people need 30 pairs of jeans? I've always had 4 at the most. The local thrift store can help if you just gotta have something to buy. Socks, by the way, I go through fast since I tend to wear them around the house and chase dogs up and down the hall for fun. Underwear? Sara rips them off me and she owes me 2 pairs..........still.

Anyway, the point is that I got a kick out of an editorial cartoon about someone bitching the gas prices. He talked about the expense of various things and ends with the fact that he needs to go to the mall to get $300 worth of clothes. Pretty much sums up the typical American.

My only complaint is labeled more towards myself. What I hate is having to live with allergies up the wazoo. My waking up is of me feeling like I'm wasted. You'd think after sleeping 8 hours that I'd feel refreshed. Nope, I get through my summer days feeling worn down and only feel alive during the early evenings. Sneezing? Lots. Hearing? Clogged up ears.

I am getting used to the sweaty shirts. My coming back from the gym at this time of year is best described as drenched. You'd have to peel things off of me since my gym has no air conditioning. We're old school and leave more wet spots than a Jenna Jameson porn flick. It's just not funny when large hairy men leave a trail of sweat as they walk by. You'd swear that you saw dolphins calling you out for a swim with them.

So, I'm outta here. It looks like I'm going to Sara's to spend the Memorial Day Weekend with her and the parents. There's a cabin, a boat, and a canoe. This is my first time so it'll be interesting to wake up and find Sara's mom in the kitchen to talk to after dealing with the typical morning wood. By the way, I have a slight fear of fish so that's gonna be interesting since Sara likes to bring that up. Happy twats all around.

We Drank Drunk

"Male bonding involves a lot of alcohol and repeated vomitting to forget the word 'love' being thrown around."

-Me

Well, I can assure you that I did not vomit. What I can tell you with absolute certainty is that I was drunk. A better word would be D-R-U-N-K. That's best in describing how I felt, bloated and a bit on the blabbering side. Take a balloon and place a rock inside, one that's about 200something pounds. That's how I felt when I came home and pretty much all weekend.

Like I said, I don't get the drinking lifestyle. Sure, I've had many times where I've been out of it thanks to 10 Coronas or more 'Natty Lights' than I could handle. It's just that drinking is not something I crave nor do I think much on it. While it's nice to have a cold Corona with a Mexican dinner or just to sit out underneath the stars with one, I don't need to down the whole 6-pack or half the 24-pack that many college students seem to have no problem doing. Oh, and beer bongs make my throat burn.

When in Rome.......yes, I do adapt to the lifestyle just for that moment. What can I say? I've lived the life of a southerner and it involves lots of beer, cheap beer that gets better after every hour. Just how many did I have? Don't know. You'd have to sort through the large pile of beer cans to figure that out. It was a large pile so you're going to have to take some time off of work.

But I'm so glad to be home. Bald-O wanted me there for another night (not surprising). We talk about the most insane things and the love in the room gets more enhanced. That's why I think a lot of homophobic men get drunk. It's to forget the fact that 'love' is a word described for the feeling of being with people that would do anything for you. Although there was no hugging, I'm always at ease when I'm in Bald-O's trailer. Lived with that fucker for 2 years and have known him longer.

Life down south is far different and a bit too excessive for me. I certainly do not condone throwing out empty beer cases and cans but that's them. Places we drive through can be marked by the 'Natty Lights' as bread crumbs. While I am labeled as 'immature' by my boys, they continue to not understand that littering is bad and strippers really aren't considered 'girlfriends' no matter how many times she rubbed her tits in their faces.

Bald-O's parents love me. Pretty much every parent does when I'm placed in an environment with them for a period of time. I'm always considered for adoption but with issues. No one can say the shit I do without fear. How many of you can do what I mentioned in my past entry? Bald-O's dad was seriously red in the face when I said that he had a big johnson after his wife told me his age. Good guy. Should have known that I do what I do because it was just itching to come out after he had already said it to me as a joke. We're all dirty jokesters.

In some ways, I am kind of mad at Bald-O. No girlfriend. Chews a lot. Smokes a lot. Drinks a lot. Is it any wonder he's still single and I hate how he acts like visiting strip joints is the best thing to do. As fun once in a while? Fine by me. Sara loves them. It's just that I'd rather see him with an actual girl rather than someone paid to entertain him. Then again, I'm probably the only guy that pays attention to a stripper's muscle tone rather than just on her tits and ass. Don't get me wrong. I'm in love with pussy but I also have a side that enjoys seeing how people take care of their bodies.

So, I drank. We've covered that part. It's a good thing that there was an acoustic guitar to play around with. Kept me busy when I played imaginary songs in my head as the boys discussed whether how many girls a guy has bedded is a good thing. Other times, I joined in by embarassing one of the many visitors we had by asking if he ever ate out his girlfriend. You would, too, if you had to listen to this guy brag about pounding his girl doggy style every 5-minutes. Doesn't any of these guys ever make sure his girl cums? The best part was when a guy came by with his girl and started saying goofy shit to me. Just before he left, I asked him up front whether he was 'gettin' sum.' The girl's face turned red just as his did, too. Man, I love the power of feeling alright with getting extra dirty with people that try to annoy me.

Guys are fun. There's all sorts of debates when alcohol is consumed in mass quantities. Whose panties would you sniff? Which porn star is the best? Have you ever been fingered? My personal favorite was when I was asked how many girls I've bedded. Bald-O's jaws dropped when I read off the names. Let's just say I am way ahead of him and his little brother. To me, though, it's the quality, one who challenges you in mind but loves to bend over and show you everything between her legs at anytime. Told you I am a total lover of vagina, perfume and all.

It's because alcohol makes you horny. At least, it did for me this weekend. It's a good thing I had the guitar to play around with or I'd be blurting out filthy things all day and night. I would have loved to have watched Sara go down on me as I awoke to see that morning wood politely settled in. Either that or I'd love to try and 69 her on Bald-O's lazy-boy chair. Have you ever seen us guys piss with morning wood? It's so hard to do without washing the windows or the wall. Even worse when there is that total desire to fuck.

But there was that bloating factor. I hated looking at myself in the mirror, a few brand new zits and a hangover the second day. My stomach felt like I was carrying a couple litters of puppies.

It is great having a best friend that really has my back. That's pretty much all I need in life and, yes, Bald-O knows my issues with him. We have different lifestyles but somehow we overlook them and just adapt. He doesn't know that I read a lot and insist on more than just 'Playboy' as something to read in the bathroom. I always thought of Bald-O as more a 'Hustler' type-o-guy.

"We're sophisticated"

Good answer but you'd think that any girl visiting the bathroom would rather read something other than 'Sports Illustrated,' 'Maxim,' and 'Playboy.' Plus, that last time at Bald-O's had no t.p. and I think it finally got through to him that those cheerleaders used his towel. I'm certainly not going to dis the reading material because all have a place. It's just that I get a kick out of how it's so frat boy friendly throughout the trailer that it's no wonder Sara is scared of visiting. She'd have no problem discussing penises, semen, pussy, and tits, though. My girlfriend is far more x-rated than these guys.

If you've got the time, what reading material would you like to find in a guy's bathroom? I'm curious, really, really curious. Archie comics? 'War And Peace?' 'Club International?' Comic strip collections?

So, I'm outta here after still not getting enough sleep. Allergies have me wake up at really late hours to sneeze. My dog's death has me constantly missing her, all those little antics of hers. Ellie-Mae was so good, the type of dog a lot of people would like. Thanks for wishing me well as I hate how I missed seeing her right before her death. The Meatball Story will live on. Happy twats all around.

So, It's Gonna Be 25?

"Don't forget, you also have a big johnson."

-Me (to Bald-O's dad in a slightly fancy restaurant)

One of the most treasured talents I have is taking a person's joke and re-directing it back at them. It's fun to witness an older man suddenly go red in the face and look around to see who heard what I just said. When Bald-O's dad walked up to me to ask, "Have you seen my Big Johnson?" what he really meant was his tape measure of that name. I laughed because I pretty much already knew what he was talking about thanks to having already seen the tape measure while sitting there waiting on the shelves being put up. I even added my own joke for good measure by pointing out that it goes up to 16 feet. Well, as all men like to say in discussion on their johnsons, it was probably 25. Don't you, girls, just love penis discussions?

It was in the restaurant that I was asked about my mother's age after telling Bald-O's mom about the cancer issue and surgery on the 29th. Bald-O's dad is the same age and it was my need for saying stupid shit that then blurted out the above statement. It was so beautiful to see a tanned face get much redder, Bald-O laughing hard, and his mom not quite getting the joke right away. Just a warning. I remember jokes you tell me and I have an amusing mouth.

To be honest, I'm terribly tired due to going to bed around 4am. Bald-O can drink, drink, and drink for long hours than I wish to tell about. It's not my lifestyle, making it my sole reason for living by staring at the empty bottom of a beer can. My cool is kept when I get to sit down in a comfy chair with an accoustic guitar. I make my own music. I may not know how to play but Bald-O says I just might be a natural because I came up with sounds he and his little brother were trying to match all night.

For such a shit day, it's not surprising. Go to bed around 4am, find it impossible to sleep in the middle of the living room floor and the comfy chairs. Get up around 8am and decide that the 2 hours and 45 minutes of driving home must be done now or I'll overthink myself. Come home to find that my dog, Ellie-Mae, died this morning. I've had a shit day and I should be sleeping.

Well, I can't even if my body is screaming for me to get all my clothes off (No, I don't look in the mirror to witness my gorgeous penis) and hit the pillow. My dog is very much missed right now. You can already see the pain my mother is going through thanks to her sidekick's leaving. Naps were taken together between those two. 5-Pound Phooey finds it best to place her buttocks on my shoulder during mine.

I could tell you lots of stuff that I've learned over my visit down south. Some good and some bad keep playing tricks with my mind. Don't get me wrong. Bald-O's one of the best friends a guy can have but it's like I was telling his mother.

"He needs to know there is more than just strippers and beer."

I laughed when Bald-O told his mother about what I told him Sara did at the strip joint she and I went with friends. Somehow, the possibility of a civilian woman taking her top off and showing her breasts is so foreign in a building where many women are already topless. Individuals that don't realize how there are some people very open to things other than alcohol make me laugh. To think, I should have been not accepting of Sara baring her breasts? Hells no! I'm all for humans showing their body parts, tits and all, in a stable environment if it pleases them. Don't get me wrong. If someone grabbed Sara's breasts or tried to feel her up, I'd get very, very angry.

So, I am going to head on up. Yes, I've given in and feel a real need to sleep now after spending the whole day in a haze. Ellie-Mae's death and my not-so-good driving due to tiredness has me ready to go. We'll talk Southern-style tomorrow. I'm going to miss my Ellie-Mae and, yes, I cried today. Such a mess I've become. Happy twats all around.

It Just Gets Worse

"Life Just Sucks Sometimes."

-Me

I don't know how to say this with as much power as I hope it will get. It's not quite easy to stun me as much as what happened today. In fact, I've already gotten the feeling that the world really is out to get me. Mum's got cancer surgery and I already wrote about how that affected me. What next? I had to ask.

My dog died today. Yeah, there are a few of you that don't see that as being a horrible thing but I'm a true dog lover, tried and true. While I like cats, it's the large personality of a 4-legged goofball like 5-Pound Phooey that gets me going each day. I'm lucky that she didn't bite the bullet but one of the others did, Ellie-Mae. It's definitely what every dog owner hates but will eventually succumb to at some point.

Ellie-Mae. How do I explain this one? She was a bit fat, rude, noisy, but one look at those big dark eyes and you'll forget all about those things. Dinner was spent with Ellie-Mae's head on my foot. Whenever fire trucks or ambulances drive by, she'd howl. Whenever I wasn't feeling well, Ellie would nudge me and insist on some attention. Her big ears knew when I was in the kitchen. Food was the most important thing to her as evidenced by her need to be in the kitchen or the inevitable 'Meatball Story."

Once upon a time, there lived a somewhat weight-challenged Yorkshire Terrier watching her mother make meatballs. She prayed and prayed for the almighty event of eating one. 20 minutes of watching didn't seem to pay off. It was here that Ellie-Mae prayed as hard as she could possibly do with her 13 pounds of furry self. The sound. It came, a splat. Ellie-Mae and Mum looked at each other. Both were shocked. Only one saw it as a possibility that dreams do come true. The floor was clean once again as Ellie-Mae went right back to begging for more. See? Meatballs do come true.

So, while I have much to tell about my time spent down south with Bald-O, I'm not in the mood just yet. Ellie-Mae's death last night stunned me because the news was given to me just as I entered the door. I am stunned still. Her buddy, Jethro, has been behaving very strange while I've had a few tears come down as I was fixing dinner for the him and the 3 others, 5-Pound Phooey, Bonnie, Clyde. My mom told me she found Ellie-Mae in the kennel this morning and then burst out crying. Forget cancer. The worst thing in the world is to find your lil' buddy that takes naps with you gone. She had so much personality and attitude that I called her 'Hoss' on occasion. This is the worst thing about owning an animal. Not only do I wish a puppy could stay like that forever instead of growing up, I wish they could stay longer. The good ones are always worth keeping so I'm going to take 5-Pound Phooey for a long run today after the gym even if I kind of hate my life right now.

I'm On the Peculiar Side

"Ultrarooster, you are under arrest for not being naked with some sophomore chick that wants to bathe you with her tongue."

-Varsity Blues

I know most of you have not watched the movie, Varsity Blues, seeing as it's about a high school football team that's filled with the basic characters we all know. I'll get into that in a minute to try and give you an idea why every time I see this movie, I get all teary-eyed.

I've had a slightly bad day. Not something like a say........a water main breaking or being on the receiving end where I have a gun held to my head ordering me to lick the toe cheese off of a midget that just decided to walk around a dog park. It was more along the lines of me wondering whether I will actually be able to get to my destination on time. First, it was being directed elsewhere thanks to an accident (Ma'am, you go left when the turn signal is green) on the main road. Fine. Taking the different road brings me to a construction site that, thanks to a large mack truck, I didn't realize was going on. Stuck til some kind person lets me know that my screaming and cursing myself means something. All done? Nope, had to wait thanks to a train. The rest of the ride was me wondering what will happen next.

Oh, I did get to my destination on time only to find that the lady I talked to about employment doesn't even remember me. Go me. Is it any wonder I've got this huge urge to sit in the car all by myself and twist and shout til someone tells me life gets better? That would be a dangerous statement to make at that particular time because then I'd take all the shopping carts and go all Jackass by asking senior citizens to give me a push into the small pond.

Want more? The gym's urinal exploded for.........oh,.....the 3rd time. There is nothing as refreshing as the smell of fresh urine combined with carpet. Nothing. The locker room is not the best place to change into gym clothes (torn up t-shirts and long baggy AJ shorts) when there is that smell and a massive puddle to avoid. I don't know what it is. Atomic pee is not something that comes out of me even though I have had some moments where I've been clocked at over a minute. That's when I put a hand to the wall for I need rest.

My day's only highlight? The geese up north in the shopping area had many nests. It was only a matter of time before I'd see the results. While driving home from getting gas and the new 'GQ' (Oh, Jessica Alba, you dumb but pretty! Pretty!), a whole squad of goslings were accompanied by their parents. The best part was when I went by for the final time. They were all huddled into a mass due to the cold wind. It's moments like these that remind you life is so much more important than trains, construction sites, and stupid drivers that drive you to the possibility of asking senior citizens to push you into a pond. I'm pretty weird (or creative, whichever you choose) when I'm mad.

So, I'm going to be gone tomorrow. Sara says it's time for me to go see the boys and do boy stuff because I've been hanging around far too many girls. Let me tell ya, there aint no party like a Pride & Prejudice party.

Varsity Blues is a movie that reminds me of my life with the boys, Bald-O, Mark, Cory, Blondie, Jason, and Big Jason. I was basically the Tweeder character, all goofiness and very mouthy with a taste for the ladies. It's only years later that I became the other character, Mox, more realistic and consistently sweet. Of course, I was sweet back then, too, but give me 10 beers while living in the dorm and I'm the guy that makes people's jaws drop.

I don't know. The best way to put it would be that everyone that Bald-O has introduced me to back then is now a friend for life down south. Mark, a friend from long ago, is the guy whom asked me to usher at his wedding. Tuck just knows that I need another beer and something to keep the girls away from me that tend to push their boyfriends away and sweet talk me into dirty dancing with them. Bald-O's sister? Let's just say I make someone that is so quiet laugh a bit more. Tweeder drank a lot of beer? Well, I drank a lot of beer.

But I did grow up a bit. I'm more quiet and less prone to accidental outbursts where I will just tell a group of guys how amazing it is to seduce a girl with your tongue. Those times were fun but, with the fact that a lot of people are married off and gone, I've seen the need to recite cartoon quotes and think more about Saturday mornings watching Scooby-Doo.

Bald-O's just someone you don't forget. When he and I were walking out to his jeep on the last day of school, he told me that the reason so many people in the dorm like us was because there is so much character within us. Forget my blue eyes. What you need is someone that makes you feel good and trusting in letting out things. That's us. Bald-O will tell you loads of embarassing stories about me in college. The important thing is that no one can forget them all because we did it all together.

1). Threw up on Mark's shoes on my 25th birthday and then thrown out of the bar.

2). Jumped into an apartment's pool at 2am only to shiver the rest of the night on a couch with the others.

3). Believe it or not, we all cried at some point.

4). Visited a psychiatric ward after Big Jason tried to kill himself over a girl rejecting him. Made Big Jason laugh over my antics at the bar crawl because I got a crowd of people to chant "Go white boy, go!" during my drunken dirty dancing with an unknown girl.

There's just so much history between us, the boys of 6C. You could call it the perfect assigning in regards to the personalities of the people living there. I first met Bald-O when he told me there was a floor meeting and it was all downhill from there. People come and go but we've felt like it's been forever and a day. I'm promised to be in Bald-O's wedding if there is a girl crazy enough to actually allow him to bed her. Drinking and chewing is no way to go through life.

So, I'm gonna leave you here as I try to settle myself on the 2 hours and 45 minutes of driving to Cow Town. I hate that drive but the immediate sitting down with a cold one makes it all worth it. The more beers we have, the more Bald-O and I sound like we're shouting to each other. Just talkin', k? Would you believe my mom calls him up just to chat and his mom always makes me feel like she wants to adopt me? Happy twats all around.

Diaryland Must Die

"There are reasons I feel bad about eating cake but then I give thanks to my powerful nuts."

-Me

I'm slowly inching my way from my old domain on Diaryland. Not only do I feel a strong need to pull myself away from people that no longer wish to read but be read, I must cut ties. It's not always easy to just drop people from an old faves list after years and years of reading people. Just about everyone has offended me in some way but I like that. Any small amount of pain reminds me that I am alive. It's just that some need to be cut the fuck loose as they continue to spit out the most useless of information imaginable. Doesn't anyone care to let loose an opinion or 2 about our country's need to be rated the worst in health care? Should the Monarchy be rid of? Will soccer ever be accepted in the U.S. instead of being seen as a sissy game? How do you really feel about passing gas? Have you ever been in love? What do you find enjoyable about sex? How do you feel about our Senate? Will black people ever stop the stereotypes instead of bitching about them all being false? Is it more or does country music get worse every year by making you want to pull the person over and stomp on their stereo? Do female farts contain mysterious mystical qualities to be studied in helping to stop the destruction of the ozone?

So, there. I'm just about done with Diaryland. Like a good friend, it's hard to move on. I love this Blogger account even if I feel a small amount of loneliness on the 'Net. It was never my intention to be popular but I do enjoy knowing people that aren't fearful of spitting out words that quite possibly contain venom.

And so life goes on. My mother's surgery was scheduled today. To be rid of breast cancer, it will take place on the 29th. So, while you are most likely enjoying the festive of Memorial Day weekend, I will be here to care for 5 dogs that make your head spin around. If it's not one, it's the other 4 that drive us crazy, seeing as Terriers are a noisy breed.

Knowing me, I just had to ask my mother a question while she looked over information about her breast surgery. "Are you gonna lose a boob?" Of course, my mom knows my humor and even laughed at this. No, she's not going to have a special place set out on the bookshelf for a boob placed in a jar full of liquid for all to see. It would go nicely with my high school yearbooks and a large bell used to bring in unruly 3rd Graders that my mother once taught.

Along with movies being my telling of the seasons, the bodybuilders I work out with are now in their own worlds. You should see them. While the winter months has them training mildly while eating large amounts, summer has them lifting obscene amounts of weight with more focus. It's always the same. They get bigger, then they cut back on calories and water to dehydrate the muscles right before a show to make themselves more defined. The one thing these guys all have to have is a 'spotter,' someone to help handle the large amount of weight on each lifting session, because tiring out is not an option.

What I find amusing is the head bodybuilder that owns my gym, Kevin. He has 2 kids that come by every now and then, seeing as he and his wife don't allow these young 'uns to be alone for too long. The oldest is a girl that is about to enter high school. I feel for any guy about to date her because one look at Kevin and you'll be in fear of your life. 'Big' is an understatement seeing as I may be slightly close to his size but what he has is so much definition. What you may not understand as a civilian not familiar with our world is that muscle does not necessarily make a person bigger. It just looks that way in a twisted sense. Kevin and I have big arms but his are only slightly bigger. You wouldn't realize that on comparing us.

Yes, I am still working on getting rid of the thickness. My sessions in the gym are much lighter than the old days of releasing more frustrations just to test my strength. It's gonna take a long time to get my body the way I want it. I'll always have big hooters to be gawked at or make small animals run away in fear.

One of the nicest things is coming across an old flick that brings back memories. You've probably never heard of DragonSlayer, a 1981 movie starring Peter McNichol. The damn thing was on HBO every fucking day to the point that I had it memorized. They don't make dragon movies like this anymore thanks to crappy CGI that just doesn't terrorize me. Computer made werewolves or evil serpents just don't have the power that the company of Jim Henson did. Remember him? That guy could take rubber and whatnot to put together scary creatures like David Bowie's Labyrinth.

Note: Labyrinth was weird, a good weird, but will forever be the movie where one of my friends kept commenting on David's cock shielded by tights. I should know. I once had to wear tights for a medieval dance and anyone watching could see my balls fly all around. It's no secret that I have very large balls, even for a 7th Grader during a dance.

So, I'm going to spend some time trying a few things on this blog tomorrow. Maybe I'll get them right or find myself banging my head against the screen. The horrors of girls and parents witnessing my being blessed with a large appendage are long gone. Well, I should since I have a girlfriend that finds it amusing to hold them in the palm of her hand with a smile on her face. If only I could master my hatred for the computer's so called attributes. Happy twats all around.

Jerry's Kids

"I'm doing this one for Jerry's kids!"

-Me

You, my friend, have not lived until you have had a day where 2 t-shirts were soaked, one from sweat and the other from rain water thanks to a small dog insisting that the iffy sky is not all about rain. The scandalous part of our story is that the t-shirt worn during the rain's sudden pouring was used to cover a large pectoralis major all while being white. Mother nature loves her humor in allowing this boy, that would be me, to have his sensitive nipples (licking gets you everywhere) be very apparent. No bra for da boys. Nips ahoy!

Yes, it was truly a nasty day that started out with hot humid sunny only to end up in the darkness described best in Lord Of the Rings's Mordar. Don't you just hate to find a really nice t-shirt completely drenched and unwearable unless you're from the Middle East? I even went the topless route I've been curious to try. You should have seen the look on that little girl's face when she saw my hooters!

Had to give in. Ever heard of Pan's Labyrinth? It's basically a movie that has been found on over 130 Top Ten lists and lavished with such praise that I've yet to hear anything bad about it. I mean, just the previews and lil' bits of scenes in movie magazines show a world that I'm awfully curious about. A little girl escapes her father's torturous rulings by going into a dream-like land to perform 3 tasks. Sound good to you? I've loved the director's sense of wonderment since Blade 2 and Hellboy. Blade 2 took a whole new course for the character by leading us into darkness even more with vampires bent on more than world domination. Mmmm......I don't know about you but I love the dark and anything that involves life's finding fantasy to be enjoyable yet still dangerous with shadows waiting to steal your soul if not well-guarded.

But Jerry's kids? The uber religious, in my humble opinion, are nothing but a bunch of feeble minded sheep all bent on telling us what is right and wrong. I've made it no secret that I feel as if I will burn upon entering a church. My middle school years were spent learning, if you can call it that, in a place that is nothing but cruelty. If you live as they see fit, you are rewarded in the eye's of the church. Question them and you will be cast out like the devil. It took me years to figure out that Satan may not have been such a bad guy. Why? According to what I've read in regards to the bible, all he did was question God.

So, Jerry Falwell died. Was anyone else jumping down in happiness? I was so happy to hear that another of those bible thumping freaks is gone from this world. When a man tells us that the 9/11 attacks happened all because of our allowing homosexuals and pagan-like behavior, I wonder about the sanity of this guy and his followers. Not only that but also Jerry was against segregation and Tinky Winky, the purple Telle-Tubbie, was gay all because he said so. Sometimes, a man feels like carrying a purse. I know because I've had to when Sara throws hers in my lap as we drive around town.

Falwell was a huge disservice to America by getting the religious-right more involved in politics. Now, I believe you have a right to your religious beliefs but to allow yourself to a helping of our laws and telling us what to believe is just a big no-no in my book. Plus, this helped Ronald Reagen, one of the worst presidents of all time, to plant one foot up the working man's ass but for all current Republicans wanting to lick his ass.

But damn, man! 7-11 stopped selling 'Playboy' thanks to all that protests led by Jerry's religious flock. Oh, the horrors of seeing a naked female's pubic hair but not once looking into the bible's possible incest stories or need to place females as nothing but evil serpents. It's weird to me how a book that views women as nothing but vile demons thanks to their bodies is seen as beautiful but a picture of any kind of genitalia will cause this white boy to burn in a giant ball of fire.

Can you girls honestly tell me that you have not had a penis in your mouth at some point in your lives? Pagantry or whatever Jerry and his kids called it does not deem anyone bad. In fact, I've had some good times! I've been having sex since I was 19 and not once have I felt bad about putting my fingers inside a girl, sucked on her breasts, unzipped my pants and put my cock inside her. In fact, I enjoy cumming on breasts and feeling that wet puddle in panties just before the act of love. If sex is so bad, why do I feel so good and do it without feeling a need to be married? As far as I know, Sara has never told me that we must repent for our sins after a long hot shower together where my naughty parts are squeaky clean because of her. Ah, the savages of women seductresses as they grab penises all in hopes of seducing men into doing their dirty work.

One thing that really caused me to get steamed is Jerry's uproar over homosexuality. Where was he during all those altar boys walking around with swollen assholes? I've never seen marriage as something we all must do. Hell, it wasn't started in the bible but over property. So, why do we have to hear from people like Jerry that homosexuals should not be allowed to join in the days of no-more-blowjobs-but-hello-mortgages? It's a hole. We all have assholes and some people take great pleasure in having things put in them. Gawd, I've been rimmed and I know for a fact that I'm not gay even if I enjoyed it. I enjoy the sight of women's assholes and find it funny how my past girlfriends loved showing them to me. Gay guys shouldn't have all the fun nor should they be shunned.

Yo, let's get real. Most people like Jerry Falwell are nothing but schizos wearing pee-stained pants all while standing on soapboxes. Their ideal world will never be realized but it's their sworn duty to see to causing trouble. AIDS is not a disease brought on by homosexuals enjoying their bodies. 9/11 was not about pagans finally being allowed to show a lifestyle that involved nudity and admitting to having fun with it. The sight of a woman with her legs spread open or a penis ejaculating is not going to cause widespread hysteria but something we should celebrate. Cartoon characters or children's shows have questionable tastes but that is up to the parents to decide as to what their kids see. When I see the overly religious preaching their bullshit during an early morning show, I question what I see in the background. Wasn't Jesus more about being humble and accepting all forms of life rather than a giant mansion and looking down on people with AIDS? Just how much was that suit and your wife's jewelry? What are these words in the bible on gays needing to be rid of from this world? Why should the Ten Commandments be placed in the courtroom?

Now, you can talk shit to me all you want but I grew up in the church. It hurts to think of myself back then, warped into thinking that it was a good thing. Anyone seen as different would be considered an outcast. Oh, sure, they talked a big game on Jesus healing people with lepresy but Jerry and a bunch of freaks see AIDS as a reason this world should not have homosexuality. Jenna Jameson said it best. The religious are the worst in the world but are the freakiest when it comes to their sexual tastes. It's hypocrisy when you tell me that anyone having sex without marriage is wrong but you're later offering a major amount of money just to lick a porn star's dirty panties after she's danced for you.

Well, I'm outta here. This is possibly my first topic entry on Blogger so tell me off if you wish. Those that know me on Diaryland pretty much expect these and some even join in to tell me what an asshole I am. Some even ask for nude pictures and the chance to feel my pectoralis major. I'm such a dork, a big lovable dork that just so happens to enjoy the dark a bit more than the average comic book reading geek. Yeah, I enjoy cumming on breasts if the moment calls for this form of lust. Wanna make something of it, Jerry's kids? Happy twats all around.

Nothing But A Nerdy White Thang

"You made your bed, now fuck in it."

-Weeds

My little dog, the terror of the neighborhood. When a lady asks me which way I am going with 5-Pound Phooey, I point. She always ends up going in the opposite direction. No one starts more fights than my lil' 5-Pound Phooey, 4-letter words and more gang signs than your average Yorkshire Terrier.

Besides my need to allow my dog to 'keep it real,' I've been going over various things coming up this summer in regards to exploring my inner-nerd. Now, it's already been noted that I will be going to Chicago with Sara and some friends for the release of the final Harry Potter book. This is not your normal go-get-book-and-read but more along the lines of oh-we-are-such-losers-that-dress-like-fine-nerds. You just cannot find a huge amount of people willing to dress like an infamous Stephen King character as you would when it comes to Harry Potter. Sara tells me that they're going to make, as real as possible, a Diagon Alley, the place where the characters purchased brooms and butter beer. I'm hoping this is real fucking beer because there are some of us over the age of 21 that love reading Harry Potter.

But a trip to Chicago? Fine as wine! It's been a while seeing as I've got cousins up there, 2 to be exact, and Sara has an aunt and uncle. I'm pretty sure I met them at some time last year. There's museums to explore and nights spent falling asleep with another chapter finished. I still remember how it was when the last Harry Potter was released. Came back 40something minutes after midnight and all of us were in seperate areas in the apartment reading. We're weird. So sue us. There was much debate later on about whether Snape was a villian so having others around to rip your assumptions is fun.

Yes, call us sheep. Call us losers but I got into Harry Potter once it got dark. The first one was just okay, as many books of a series get. It's when you realize that nothing is perfectly good and nothing will ever be completely evil. Unless we count Dick Cheney, I'd say so. It just so happens that his shit-for-brains in charge is completely stupid.

Alas, there is more. There is the possibility that Sara and I will not attend Dragon Con, Atlanta's annual sci-fi/comic/movie/game convention. We're really wanting to go to Chicago for the annual Wizard World one because Kristen Bell aka Miss Veronica Mars is a possible guest along with Kevin Smith. I'm just dying to meet Miss Bell because no one gets me as curious about a long high school mystery as she does for the TV show, Veronica Mars. I got Sara and her roommate hooked. Why aren't you watching?

To think, what would drive me absolutely crazy with no sleep when it comes to convention guests? Keira Knightley just sitting there having a smoking break and me with a large potato sack comes to mind. No, no, fantasy over. Yes, it would be a must go but to add Mila Jovovich, the whole Veronica Mars crew, Sopranos actors and actresses, Fiona Apple, Angelina Jolie, and whoever else I can fucking remember. The best would be to find yourself in heavy debate over music/movies with someone that is involved with it. Tori Amos is well-known to love a good talk with her fans.

It was such a nice little day to see over. Do you ever have those? They feel so long but you look forward to the end? My face and forearms are a slight shade of pink after being in the sun walking with 5-Pound Phooey. An Asian couple just moved into the neighborhood with a small terrier. Guess who scared them?

Oh, and my promise to myself to get on the treadmill again was kept. 10 minutes of running after a difficult bicep session can wear me down more than I thought. Add that to the 4-legged critter that insists I need to go back outside and I'll tell you my legs are gonna always be as toned as a soccer player's. Somehow, I missed those times spent on the treadmill looking forward to getting off the damn thing. Minutes stretch to feel like hours. You know the deal. A towel is your best friend when it's you and the machine doing battle with each other.

Diaryland is now a ghost town. Only 2 people on my faves updated but I didn't really care to read them. Coming to Blogger made me realize that so many that I read talked about the same things over and over. Not that I'm a huge difference but many on Diaryland don't seem to have surprises or they're just plain boring. A day with 5-Pound Phooey is anything but boring. There are 4 blocks that either wave at me or hide their dogs upon the sight of me.

I can tell you this much. I am no longer going back to Diaryland. What slightly irritates me is how I somehow felt like I belonged to a small group of people that wanted to share thoughts, sights, and sounds. I read you and send occasional feedback. You read me and send me your thinking. Where are they now? Where's Hiss? It all makes me feel like I was just a moment to entertain people and not be taken seriously. Oh, well. It's just a fucking blog, right?

So, life continues on. A 91-year-old gets carjacked while people watch. You'd be amazed at how there are a lot of violent black people out there. It's disgusting how so many stereotypes are being played out in real life. To me, it's far worse if my lawn mower gets stolen. Rumor has it that a lot of black people steal those, too. What do I know. I'm just a white guy and follow my own stereotypes, can't jump and passes hard math classes. Happy twats all around.

Mom Says To Eat Yo' Peas

"In summer, the song sings itself."

-William Carlos Williams

I used to think Dick Cheney was the personification of evil itself. No matter how many false smiles he portrayed when shaking the hands of various people or troops, it was always within that face something far sinister than I can describe looking out at me. Little Reagen from the Exorcist would say to the priest, "Your mother sucks cocks in hell," and that had quite an effect on me with how far evil can go. How many think that this would just make Cheney smile? Even on Mother's Day?

But, no, I think evil is can be found a bit further up in the gas companies. Sure, they advertise how great they are in their procedures being more about helping the environment. In spite of what? I'll never forget the Valdez and its massive oil spill but I also got wind of a kid's picture taken of the gas prices in his hometown, San Francisco. $4.35 is just way too rich for my blood seeing as I am about to depart for 2.45 hours of driving this Friday. I'm just dying to get off the Saudi dick. Aren't you?

Isn't it here that you find yourself saying "Fuck being able to shoot webs out of my wrists! I would rather fly so I can forget gas prices and shit on Exxon's latest CEO after a large amount of mashed potatoes and McDonald's green fish sandwiches." They really are green, aren't they?

It's Mother's Day so why not a lil' tribute to mine? You might be askin' yourself why such a big lovable lug like me got to where I am in mind/body/spirit. Well, I'll tell you the one thing I'm pretty sure started it all.

Flash cards. No joke. My mom grilled me when I was in 1st, 2nd, and 3rd Grades on these things. Of course, she was a 3rd Grade teacher so there was no weirdness to find me, after a long hard day of playing outside, sitting on the floor memorizing 9 X 9 and other tricky multiplications. My classes used to play a game of Around the World where a student would stand behind someone and try to get all the way around by saying the answer first. Hard? I did it a lot thanks to major grillings over those tricky nines. My nemesis was Mark, a blonde male that drove me nuts with his perfectionism. When it was the 2 of us doing battle, it was not surprising that we'd spend several moments tied while shouting out answers til a nun gave it to one of us.

But it's not just flash cards. My mother is a tough old broad (She'll laugh if she read that, though), tough but fair. Look, I know she spoils me but there is something more to it. I don't always get what I want and there is always a limit. I'm certainly not the greedy type so I don't care. My whole outlook on life is to have a great girlfriend, a big black couch to sink into, and a giant home theater experience to escape the day's blackness for just those 2 hours. No bling, motorcycles, rims, flashy cars, pool table, Armani clothing, and so on. I'd take the 40 acres of land that Bald-O lives on, just to run around like a village idiot for the day.

People say they see a very large resemblance between my mother and I. Funny because I only see how similar we are in thought. My mother and I care about the very thing many religious fucks don't, the earth and this world. Now, she may be going to church, something I would burn upon setting foot in, but she sees that the flowers and trees are far more important than alms to keep the church alive and tax-free.

Sometimes, I wonder what my mother thinks of me. There is a lot of trust for her quote to me when it comes to sex was this: "You are NOT bringing the cops home and she is NOT pregnant." If anything, my mother actually encouraged me to explore my sexuality. What I'm pretty sure of is that my parents used to be crazy kids way back when. I'm guessing that my father's need to eat so much also brings about her not liking my growth from working out.

"You might crush her if you get too big."

I know for a fact that I am my mother's favorite. No one else can talk like I do and make her laugh when it comes to our inside jokes on my dog's farts (sounds like a whistle), not knowing how to keep food on a fork, or how amusing it is to her that 5-Pound Phooey absolutely adores me. There are little things like how a tiny dog looks at a person that brings her joy, I guess. My brother, on the other hand, does very little with hardly any personality.

But hell hath no fury like a mother scorned! Oh, I've made her mad. Lucky my mother still doesn't know about the day I got my license and ended up with the car in a business's bushes, though. There have been many moments where I was forced to not do what I wanted or get somewhere that I just had to go to. You remember those awkward teenage years where parties were a place to be seen? Me, I just wanted to see what shit my friends would do this time instead of having to hear about it in class the next day.

But my mother has this huge trust me in more than other people's. I went to New Mexico on my own to see Kristan, the 29-year-old woman of amazing talents that took my virginity with the smoothness of her lips as my fear of someone seeing my junk for the first time was put at ease when I was ordered to take off her jeans and do what I wanted down there. Long sentence? Well, you had to be there as my nervousness of peeing in her mouth was huge since it was, after all, my first blowjob but hello love of pussy galore (I could so go on at how glorious it was to explore female genitals for the first time-Tee hee)! Barely 19, much later, but bought a train ticket to see the woman that broke my heart on V-Day, Kristan. So worth it.

Trust in that my mum knows I do things that are kind of questionable but I have to. I had to go to Canada to meet PenDragon. I had to go to Indiana. I had to drive down south to see Bald-O. I had to go with people I only lightly know all the way to Atlanta. I had to let a friend go because his alcoholism fucked things up. I had to explore my own stupid needs in order to be me. Yeah, many things worried Mum but she understood.

So, all mommies out there are cool. Knowing me, I will correct myself in saying that those bad apples that drop their newborns in the trash or alcoholics/junkies don't count and I hope they get hit by buses going at high speeds. Whether we realize it or not, mums want to be a part of our lives forever. If she insists on doing your laundry, don't fret so much. No mother would allow you out of the house with 'skid marks' and grass stains in your socks. Tomorrow, if I'm up for it, I'll do my annual love of you-know-what. Happy twats all around.

Curl Up With A Cold One

"Big balls in Cow Town"

-Bald-O's home as we call it

I've gone AWOL from just about all of my college friends. While Bald-O is someone I find a lot of enjoyment with keeping in touch, the others just annoy me each time I think about them. Yeah, we had some good times and all that. It's just that sometimes we realize a lot more when there is more sobriety at the helm.

So, I'll be heading out to Cow Town to see Bald-O possibly this weekend. It's inevitable since boys, as much as they hate to admit it, miss each other. There are no tears of joy as another man pulls up into the driveway. It's more like, 'Hey, man! Throw me a beer! You gettin' any pussy?" The more south you go, the more likely you will be drunk and have spent some time pissin' on a tool shed.

The only thing I hate is that it's 2 hours and 45 minutes of driving. All of it is straight down one solid route. You'll see a hell of a lot of farmland, tractors, semis, and satellite dishes. Trust me. If you've got a trailer for a house, you're gonna need a dish if you want to get the WE Channel for your nagging wife that has a hard time dealing with your watching ball games while the children are getting into the tobacco stash you think is well hidden.

Note: The more south you go, the more women dip and spit. I'm not too familiar with many women going the whole swallowing route when it comes to you-know-what.

Spent today going on more walks with 5-Pound Phooey than I'm used to. 4 in all that are having me inch my way back to running on a treadmill. 5-Pound Phooey is more into walking rather than running. Since I need my cardio to help with my heart issues, I need something that's a bit faster than 4 tiny legs that stop suddenly to smell a dandelion or the latest pile of shit. Have you ever had to brake so suddenly or else you'll end up tripping on a leash? That's what I have to deal with every now and then.

5-Pound Phooey's got a rep. Her crush, the white Scottie, now runs back into the house when he sees us coming up the sidewalk. If only there was some way for 5-Pound Phooey to talk about her problems or admit to liking someone instead of yelling at 'em.......

Some things I've found on the 'Net this week:

1). India has some folks that believe it's good luck to see what would happen with placing a 1-year-old on the mat with a cobra. Yes, it gets bitten and there is video of all this. I'm not a liker of kids but even I was sickened.

2). Love forums where teens debate on how big a girl's bootie has to be before hittin' it. The worst is how a girl would put up her picture only to have all these guys come out of nowhere asking for her phone number and email addy. Yes, there are a lot of virgins in sneaker forums.

3). In another forum, men were debating about women's periods. Gotta love this one because some were calling each other out on the fact that you have to accept tampons being in a man's apartment. Others discussed how great it is to get their 'red wings' (blood on the cock after fucking a girl during her period). And the post to end all posts? A picture of a woman with a speculum pulling her 'lady lips' apart to show her period just starting. If there was any way to turn me off from eating pussy, it was that picture. Way too graphic for my taste. Way to go at showing a cervix, though.

I'm still a little bit down but getting over it. Seeing Bald-O could help or even worsen things. As much as I hate to admit it, we're a bit different in that he's the drink/watch baseball/talk shit type o' guy. I'm more about reading/writing/arithmetic and complaining about seeing my superheroes being watered down in the movie theaters.

It'll be interesting to see what's happened to my best friend from college, though. Hopefully, he's dusted his dick off and found a nice warm place for it. How many years has it been since Bald-O's been laid? Long ago and it was what he called a 'fat chick' that turned into a 'she wasn't that fat.' Gotta love guys in how they try to protect their reputations, what little they have. The best part was when we ran into that 'fat chick' and Bald-O forced me not to say hi to her. Drunk and waking up next to what you did last night is no way to go but country boys know how to get home because all back roads lead to a familiar cow.

So, I'm outta here after reading a bit more of Kurt Vonnegut's 'Slaughter-House 5' and wondering just how long this loneliness on Blogspot will be. The one thing I miss is the feeling of a small squad of people that surround you to listen. Well, the real listeners seem to have followed me while those that insist on being entertained stayed behind for some reason. Maybe that's what I really wanted, people that listen and have something to say. You know what? I haven't talked dirty on this blog yet. Who wants to leave a 'wet spot?' Happy twats all around.

Veronica Mars Is On the Case

"Private bonership"

-Bill Maher (better wording on gay marriage in order to confuse the religious)

Just a few minutes ago, I was staring up at the ceiling while watching Bill Maher's Real Time. Of course, you all know it's one of my favorite shows thanks to pay cable's allowing him to cuss. A small, actually tiny, motion caught my eye. Anything where Paula Poundstone (why is she considered a comedian? So not funny) is on as a guest will have me staring off so the spider making its way down a single strand of webbing was made known. It was here that I played around with it to see how shy the spider was. Each time I placed my palm upwards to allow a landing pad, it would go back up to the ceiling. 2 times. See? Spiders are shy and should be ignored. Plus, they eat those fucking flies that harass me when I smell all sweaty stinky on summer days.

I'm depressed. I don't know how else to put it, folks. The not-feeling-well-upon-waking blues came about and got worse. A phone message came that told me I didn't get the mock personal training job. Poop. Just makes me want to kick pebbles into a pond all day.

Things don't get much worse for me in my lack of understanding why I don't get to help wealthy old farts work out. Not only do I work out in a gym where arrogant bodybuilders think that all women lust for them so that I can most likely deal with folks that crapped their britches upon entering the room but I've been working out since I was in 7th Grade. It took me years and years of my own personal research that some people think a 4-year degree can cover. Life confuses me in how a guy that looks okay and with a little bit of flab and a degree is hired over someone that has done so for life all while veins are obvious as there is too little fat to hide them. I've always thought more on people with personal experience rather than a classroom because so many people are basically just telling the professor what he/she wants to hear in order to get a good grade.

But it's not just the job loss. I've been down in the dumps for some time this week. There is a possibility of many reasons: not liking myself, anger over this stupid war, disappearance of 9 billion bees (who's gonna pollinate us?), Americans are sheep, and that 4 people had the nerve to tell us that Paris Hilton should be free. Just how desperate are we to take time out to not let nature take its course? Bees are good. Paris is not.

Life does have a way of looking up. Chicago is holding it's annual Wizard World Convention and my heart nearly skipped a beat on knowing who's there. I absolutely LOVE the TV show, Veronica Mars. Knowing that its lead actress, Kristen Bell will be there means I must find any way possible to get my picture with her and an autograph where she tells me that my manly pecs make her melt. Oh, lordy do I smell a need for a road trip of the weirdest kind because I must find my way through 6,000 virgins with no clue as to where a girl's pussy hole is but can configure their mothers' remote controls to accept voice-recognition.

It feels weird to meet someone famous that you watch on TV or in the movies. The supermodel I met 2 years ago looked only slightly like what I saw on the TV. Pretty, yes, but just different to my masculine blue eyes. Kristen Bell..........it just makes me want to know where Wallace is or if Keith is on a bust where someone placed a lil' 'white stuff' in a rival's Batman utility belt. Lindsay Lohan would be my first suspect., of course. This all depends on what Sara says seeing as we'll also be going to Chicago for the new Harry Potter book on July 21st. Come say hi or gag me with a spoon as I get animated on how many 10-year-olds that I knocked down with my amazing palms of fury.

Oh, and I'm told that I should dress up as Harry Potter. Wouldn't that be something? Harry got a little thickness in the ol' arms but with the same old 'bird legs.' Plus, he got a much weirder hairstyle that will really bring out the scar on his forehead. The only magic words that this Harry Potter can mutter is this: 'Stupify!' I'm gonna be so fucked against someone dressed as Snape as he hits me on the back of the head with a ruler, book, or potted plant.


So, I'll end here as I don't want to sound like a freak for a TV show. Even Kevin Smith of Clerks fame will be in Chicago for Wizard World. Seen Clerks? Clerks 2? Jay And Silent Bob? If so, this is the point you start to play with your nipples in a lusty manner as 'Fresh Horses' starts to play on a boombox. Happy twats all around.