Monday, April 7, 2008

Pit Versus Phooey

If I was given a dime every time someone says one of these things to me, I would be a very rich man indeed:

1). Do you lift weights? (No, asshole. Gnomes build hills all over my body while I sleep.)

2). How much do you bench-press? (About 300something but ask me about how far I can throw a First Grader.)

3). What do you eat? (Well, you won't find me in McDonald's like you.)

4). Are you from another country? You've got an accent. (I'm British so I worship a different god and he says you smell like a witch's tampon.)

My favorite thing is how people change around me when they've gone from seeing me in t-shirts to sleeveless ones. It's like they're suddenly afraid of me or something. They'll stare at my arms or chest and have trouble speaking, even guys. It makes me wonder if we're all gay in some way.

So, life? I'm sitting here wondering just how lucky I am after reading various hard times in other people's lives. I hate that. While I enjoy seeing enemies suffer, I'd rather have people that don't deserve such things go back to being happy again. My life is not perfect since I'm at a stage where I realize my parents really are crazy. If you aren't there, trust me on this. At some point, parents just decide to become obsessed with something or forget to breathe. For me, it's as embarrassing as my mother suddenly wanting to tell me to calm down with weight-lifting. Her reason? I'll one day start getting on top of girls.

While many guys would have problems with a girlfriend painting a nude male in front of her, I will not. An email was just received where Sara is going to have a nude model for her thanks to the art gallery's theme being homoerotic. Oh, I know I'm going to be lying there in bed listening to her telling me about the size of his penis/balls because.......well, that's the first thing she looks at. I, however, am the only male allowed to wave mine around and shout, "Whoo! Whoo!" all of a sudden for no reason.

Yes, this is how demented I get when things are calm at night thanks to having a girlfriend that loves penises.

Had an interesting Saturday thanks to a pitbull coming after 5-Pound Phooey. My dog has a mouth on her that, well, you already know by now after reading the stories over the years. I never thought there'd be a pitbull in my neighborhood but lo and behold there was one running straight for us. I've dealt with these dogs before thanks to doing work at an animal shelter. My first instinct was to show no fear and shield my dog with my body. That's not much since 5-Pound Phooey's pretty much just13 pounds of hair.

I wouldn't say the pitbull was vicious. I, on the other hand, was ready to kick its ass if it messed with 5-Pound Phooey. Lucky for us all, it only stood there to bark up at me as my confused dog was held tightly. The owner came quickly but I was furious at how he allowed this kind of dog to get loose. You just do not fuck with a pitbull. Period. As nice as it might be, they're strength is mighty impressive.

It's funny how I kind of see my neighborhood a little differently. There are a lot of wealthy business owners that own pets that would definitely not be considered dangerous. Pomerenians, schnauzers, and even German shepards would be something I'm used to with no fear. I love big dogs and you'll see that I give off a certain vibe that allows me to get just about any dog to want my attention. Ask Sara about this. We have to stop and meet every dog when on a walk. I'm not afraid of pitbulls but I'll be extremely cautious when I have a very mouthy little bitch on a leash.

Jay-Z and Beyonce tied the knot? Not a fan of either of them but it's interesting. To me, I always found Jay-Z to be a bit overrated in his rapping by forced rhyming with words. "Can I Get A..." is classic, though. I love that song. Period. My speakers would bounce and I just had to twist in my seat to the beat.

I'll be gone this weekend. The quietness of this past one was nice because I got caught up on various things like Battlestar Galactica (only 7 more of Season 3 to watch). As much as I love to wake up in Sara's bed, it was nice to toss a little 13-pound girl into mine and wiggle noses with before a walk. It's amusing to me how I crave chaos all of a sudden. You know what it is when you sleep with people. Bad breath? Stuffing penis in underwear during morning wood moments as girlfriend laughs. Cuddling. Sex. Discussions on what to have for lunch (we rarely wake up for breakfast now). Who gets in the bathroom first to pee or brush teeth (sometimes we don't even care and just end up in there together).

So, there you go. Life is once again alive as the light stays on up in the sky even after I get home. I'm dog-tired by 10pm while I watch WE Channel's High School Confidential where they follow various teen girls through 4 years of high school. Yeah, I love how you get into the thinking of various people to see how much they change as various issues arise. Wish I had gotten rid of my confusion towards religion much earlier. For me, even drinking a beer was too rebellious. Nowadays, it's either a 6-pack or not even bother trying. Happy twats all around.

1 comment:

Dr. K said...

Well, he usually wakes me up. He gets really close behind me, spooning, and caresses me. Then we have sex in that position and fall back asleep.

As for why people don't blog as much anymore, I'm not sure. I know for me, I'm just tired most of time. And othertimes, I usually read everyone elses diaries first, and by the time I'm done, my brain doesn't want to focus much on writing my own. But I'm trying to be better.