Obama Knows Tits

"You wanna know what would cause me to need a moment to pause? A woman with gigantic fake tits telling me to be honest with her. Just what the fuck is she selling?"

-Me

"Obama should be considered the same as Britney Spears? Sounds like a certain 72-year-old is jealous of someone that is looking mighty presidentially sexy. Those old-timers can sure bring out the best quotes."

-Me (Once I heard McCain said that about Obama)

Hi, Just came around here on something else. I'm probably one of the few individuals that still love Huey Lewis And the News. Do you know those days? Ah, when MTV announces a new video by them, it was huge. "Doing It All For My Baby" was the last one I remember from those great 80's. Why do so many people say they try to forget them?

See, that's pretty much it for me on a H-O-T Thursday. I'm sitting here looking up lyrics to 'Heart And Soul' and trying to figure out why I am the perfect target for a little brown boy on a bike. You'd think that my size would warrant an easy avoidance but....no. Inches from crashing into me while I walked 5-Pound Phooey (off to my left sniffing things). The little boy's guide/escort or whatever was a young brown woman that would not stop staring at me. Yes, I'm shirtless (almost spelled 'shitless' instead) but in no mood to be flirted with. If it's not this young girl, it's the older parents that stared at me on the park bench the day before. Brown women must really go for the guys that look like they can be dominated by. Or maybe just a guy that smells better than what they've got. I pretty much stunk in the park so it must be the looks.

We've got Muslims. You've got annoying too talkative co-workers while I've got smelly people that stink so bad before work even begins. Think about it. I spent a great deal explaining to you about the heat I must deal with at work. Think how bad it gets for those that don't believe in smelling good. My deaf co-worker kept using sign language to tell me from across the area that the Muslims smell like shit. Lovely.

Found a debate between teens on a forum. Found myself wondering the same thing. Why don't more black women work out? There's hardly any in my gym. Guys, yes. Women? No. When we do get the occasional black woman, it's mainly the biggest ass you've ever seen type. Booty claps? More than likely. With an ass that big, how the hell does a boyfriend find the hole to put his dick in? Does he just guess?

Gonna leave for Indiana on Friday. In case you don't keep up with current events on my life, the last time I came home on the interstate brought back some real horror. No one wants to ever have their car quit on them in such a situation. Well, I got to experience it and learned to love a 6-fingered man.

So, how would you react to learning that you're stuck on an interstate? My first reaction? Total panic for a few minutes but then I learned to relax and enjoy the scariness. It tends to bring about adrenaline within me that I cannot describe. My only annoyance was with the loudness brought by the speeding trucks going by constantly. Yeah, it's loud and hard to hope my parents heard me on the cell phone. Why oh why did I get into the situation where even my phone was close to death's door? Two calls out and it was total darkness.

It's weird how I felt okay with getting out of my car and sitting on the trunk. Just watch the cars go by. You don't realize how fast 80 miles per hour is until you've watched the interstate close up without moving. One little slip and I aint got no head.

Keep in mind, it was extremely hot that day. Sitting in the car would have been far worse. Wish I could have saved that batch of cookies that rode shotgun with me on my way home.

No one stopped. I was fine with that because I tend to drive by the occasional stranded individual at times without stopping. With everyone needing a cell phone, it's in my world to be okay with it. They'll call. They'll find a way. No more hitchhiking with total strangers. Though, I still do not recommend picking up someone holding an axe and standing next to a case of beer without a stitch on. Ignore your boyfriend if he insists you stop so you can share the beer.

That's why I don't travel with an axe BUT I do have a fancy little light that gives off the Bat Signal. I'm Batman, dammit! But even he needs some help, sometimes.

So, the big question is whether I will get to Sara's or have to make that dreaded call that I'm fucked and no one will pick me up because I look like a stressed out cubicle worker with no future for sentimental poetry.

Sara sent me a link to this story that's been bugging me a little. Keira Knightley is upset over a studio's wanting to change various pictures of her by adding tits, or the look of actual cleavage. If that's the case, why didn't they hire an actress with such mountains of grandeur? Keira's unbelievably gorgeous and known for not having tits. Now, accept her for who she is. Not every girl out there has more than a man's handful. Not all of us males want women to have such things. I'm all for the tiny titties, more than a mosquito bite, but tiny.

I've only dated one girl with major tits yet had no idea as to what to do with them during sex. There would be a lot of males that would have enjoyed playing with these things but it felt so foreign for me to lust after them. Completely fine with a tit job and 'motorboatin'' but nothing in the way of hand play.

So, I hope y'all stand up and cheer on Keira in her fight to end this assumption that all women need massive cleavage to be considered worthy of our attention. Better yet, let's add some intelligence to McCain where he should stick to the facts of life and not about the sexiness of Obama. It's always the ugly ones that get jealous of those that walk around like their dicks have just been greased by a woman's maidenhead. Happy twats all around.

Bottomless Party

"Do you, like, sit quietly or does your mother have to give you candy to keep you from squirming?"

-Me (What I asked my boss when he flaunted his haircut today)

Weird start of a day. I got kissed by a girl and it wasn't Sara. Apparently, my friend from Brazil that I have not seen in the gym for some time missed me. Yeah, little ol' me in the Best Buy parking lot gets the greeting that confuses us Americans. Do we kiss the cheek back as well? I'm always lost on this.

All this reminds me of what I miss about my gym, the old gang. You can take the Brazilian girl, add Slutwatcher, Kim, Gay Nick, and so on that made the drippings of sweat so much better. Now, it's become a place of focused boredom. The Brazilian girl would listen to me talk of various things that drove me nuts when it came to Sara. Slutwatcher would try to distract me by telling me which college girl had her legs open enough that he could see the color of her panties. Kim, going through the boredom of no longer having a husband, would make me laugh with tales of her cock sucking skills being put to no use. Gay Nick would tell me which celebrities were hiding the fact that they were gay. I miss my tales of what went on in the gym.

There's really not much to tell you. I'm sleeping so much more thanks to the unbearable heat. All t-shirts end up being peeled off me before I find myself enjoying the sweet, sweet feel of the hot water taking away the day's sweat. I lose so much water everyday that I no longer am able to wake up at my normal times.

I'll give you an idea as to how hot the conditions I deal with begin in the first 5 minutes at work. Since you do not have balls and have not experienced the feeling of having to peel them off your thighs like I do, I'll do this. Yes, there is a reason 'hot as balls' is used by us males to warn other males. Let's say you have walked in the woods wearing super tight dark jeans. The weather is extremely hot at 110 degrees, the humidity is unbearable to the point that you wouldn't care if you exposed your breasts to the local small town folk with shotguns, and meanwhile thanks to being lost in the woods, you left a nice little explosion behind the bush thanks to the Taco Bell you had earlier. Yeah, that asshole itches like hell with combined icky feeling between your legs where you wouldn't want your boyfriend's face near there unless he's a mindless smelly-pussy-eating-zombie thanks to losing all his sense of smell but you have to keep going or you will die. That's how I feel when I'm at work.

Ah but it rained. Lordy, lordy was it great to know rain came down hard tonight. Would have preferred it happened this afternoon but beggars can't be choosers.

I've learned that not paying so much to politics can help. As they say, 'ignorance is bliss.' All that bullshit back and forth from those evil Republicans upset that Democrats finally have a say again just gets to a young feller like moi. There's only so many floodings. tornadoes, celebrities caught drunk driving, and spoiled athletes a guy can take when it comes to getting his news. Don't make me sad. Make me glad with a good old shark attack that got that mean ol' fisherman with no respect for the sea.

So, I endeth your mindless entertainment here after watching the sequel to Harold & Kumar Go To White Castle. While the first is a very good classic stoner movie with heart that showed us the stereotypes of being brown and Asian, this one was not quite up to par with that. Why oh why do people lose their ways when it comes to a good quality sequel? Batman Begins's sequel, The Dark Knight, was a beautiful film in bringing us to a world where even the good guys find out that their trying to protect the innocent can also bring out the worst in people. Harold & Kumar only had one thing, a 'bottomless party,' where, you guessed it, all people attending must not wear shoes, socks, panties, and pants. Lovely to see a beautiful girl answer the door in what looks to be an amazing job on trimming her pubes. I'd drop to my knees to reclaim any part of my spirituality and thank thee for bringing back some of the bush. Then again, the reality part of me would hope everyone placed a towel before sitting down on the furniture. Happy twats all around.

My Bod And Soul

"I'm probably one of the few people to get emotionally sad when he hears a large shark has been caught."

-Me

I hate it when I see fishermen surround a large shark hung up on a hook. Yeah, I know it's all about boys being boys on whose got the bigger dick. I get it. It's just that with overfishing in the ocean and the beauty of great whites/makos/hammerheads/bulls/nurses, there is no need to tell everyone to look at what you brought out with your fishing gear. First of all, sharks give up easily because their energy is not like a human's. Your only problem after wearing this amazing animal down in a matter of less than an hour is getting it into the boat. A 25-footer can weigh well over 1,000 pounds so it's not all about expertise. There is no Jaws. It's a fictional tale, a serial killer shark. Leave them alone so our ocean can continue to thrive.

Gawd, I hate that. It was a California fisherman that caught a very large mako shark that got me in a small fit of rage. I'm probably the only person that would smile if he had fallen in only to get bitten. Lose a leg. Save a shark.

Today, I don't like my body. Yeah, yeah, yeah, it's nice having below 10% bodyfat. Yeah, it's nice to be looked at and hear Sara say, "Did you hear what they said about your arms!?!" My favorite moment would be when Sara and I had dinner together that ended up with a teenager about to get up and start something with me but took one look at my bulging forearms. He sat right back down. Thanks to my birthday coming up, I'm wondering if I should just enjoy what all my insanity in a gym has brought.

My bones creak, yo. I'm tired of buying my Calvin Klein button downs in size XX-Large because my arms barely get through an X-Large. I'd rather be relaxed than worry about how I'm going to handle that bar with 3 plates waiting for me at the gym. In other words, my change in workout has resulted in me wanting to change everything else.

You want to know how to really workout? Go to exhaustion on each set. Do this for 4 or 5 exercises on different areas of muscle. Biceps and back one day. Chest and triceps the next. Your body will melt fat so easily if you follow this format by going crazy for 4 to 6 days a week. It's weird how I am taking on this new form of push-ups with such gusto. Sara and her dad like to ask me about how I can descend down between 2 weights turned upward. No one I know does it. No one I know can handle it.

For once, Obama irked me. Another stimulus package!?! Are you fucking nuts!?! Our drunken idiot of a president already did one that shouldn't have been done in the first place. $300 does nothing. The smart ones put it in savings. The idiots went out and bought designer clothes. Obama, I still love you so we'll forget about this little boo-boo.

Somehow, I've gotten over trivial conversations in the gym. Spent time talking about getting shots for my cat allergies back when I had cats here. No sports. No pussy. No laughing at farts. It was all about how bad I feel when I spend time around cats. Or more exact, it's the saliva we're allergic to.

So, I'm going to head on up to go through my nightly ritual of falling asleep to various porn channels. I'd try others but their programming is so boring these days. The only one of note was this weird flick called 'Definitely, Maybe' with Ryan Reynolds. It's okay but where do you find kids with this much knowledge so soon? If all children came like that, I'd be fine with someone that had more than 2 kids. As soon as their out of the womb, it's right to work for these kids. Careers begin at the age of 7. Cell phones must be earned and not given out like candy, dammit. Happy twats all around.

Some Bushes Are Good

"It's pretty obvious we're stuck together."

-Me (to Sara)

Found myself sitting outside on the backyard's deck. On some days, you'd find me thinking about how impressed I was to have spent a hell of a lot of my summer working on it. All that wood, hammering, and tearing up old portions of the deck, it was quite a summer. Not this time. All I could do while my dogs were busy peeing on as many things as they could, I stared at the only types of wasps I love, cicada killers. Gawd, they are unbelievably gorgeous.

I'm sure there are people that will gasp. Wasps aren't in the much loved department with good reason. They're annoying, for one thing. Cicada killers are a little different. They live to kill cicadas and hang around flowers. I sat near 3 small ones that were obviously new to the world, thanks to popping out of the remains of a cicada. They'll grow quite large with an orangish color that swirls a bit near their black abdomen. It's the colors and how large these wasps are that I admire.

You've gotta find beauty somewhere in this world, folks. Just be glad you don't have dogs that come by and pee on your bare feet like mine do.

I've had a pretty good weekend thanks to having something to take my mind off this world's insane political struggle. How you decide on voting is up to you. I go with integrity and how much I feel a candidate is being honest with me. Obviously, with that in mind, I can find no love of McCain. None. His 'Straight Talk Express' has been nothing but bullshit that I hope others can see through as well.

What's been taking my mind off of things is my personal planning in getting rid of my old comic book collection. Man, it's a lot! When you add up the possible dollar amount, it's way past $3,000. But why would I sell something that's been important to me?

It's simple. A part of me has grown up, all but slowly. Remember that epiphany I had a short while back? I've watched various people take on the world and wish to join them. Bald-O's bought a house. Sara's friends also bought one, a very nice one that somehow ended up with 2 very friendly kittens that you just cannot ignore while visiting. I've been dreaming of what to do with my own place, artwork and all.

I'm pretty sure I'll end up with Sara. Scary thought. We have things that make us complete opposites of each other but I like that. I like the idea of a girl going off and doing her own thing, like painting. Me? Who knows what I'm all for. I'm the type that blends in with various groups while his girlfriend is off at an art show. On the couch drinking with boys? So there. In the gym trying to see if I can beat my own personal distance record on a treadmill? Possibly. At a convention with nerds as someone starts a sissy fight over whether Captain America really is dead? In my heart of hearts.

No one likes to think of it. You reach a certain age and you kinda grow up. Not all the way. No-no-no-no! I will never completely grow up because that's when your heart dies. The creativity has flown forth from your body and you spend 8 hours in a cubicle while the other hours are spent in front of the TV. Why not walk around downtown to see the latest offering of local bands? An art show? Tackle the impossible by ice skating? It's no wonder I enjoy a nice stroll over the bridge in Sara's town.

From my list of lists, all I have left to get is a 50-inch high definition TV with all the trimmings. No thickness but a very thin flat screen so that there is space enough. I can see cold winter evenings getting warmer thanks to another viewing of Mr. And Mrs. Smith over and over again thanks to the power of Blu-Ray high definition. That's pretty much the first thing I want to do with money made from this personal garage sale of comic books. We'll see how I do.

As I've said before, my house or apartment has to have something unique. My movie posters are going to be framed. No biggee. It's what I want to do every now and then to see if anyone that visits notices. Since I have so many, I want to switch them around. A Sopranos might be up on Tuesday but, all of a sudden, there is a James Bond original! Just how did I get a For Your Eyes Only? I'm still impressed that, at a young age, I saved a lot of movie posters that are now worth quite a bit. The original Friday the 13th? Got one of those, too! That's from 1980, folks. Try and get one of those in the condition I have mine in. I just want to express my love of movies in that way, the feel of a movie theater in the main room. Artwork in another.

You have your dreams and I have mine. Many times, I find myself scouring over pictures of how others designed their apartments or homes. Color schemes and taste in artwork are what get me curious. Bare walls just don't do it for me. Live to express. What tickles your bones? I always want to know what gets to people. Sara would tell you that I love ass. I asked her why and she pointed to the various pictures on the side of my bookshelf.

A part of me just wants to entertain. I want people to feel welcome but also to know I love a lot of things. Name a toy from childhood. Tell me a favorite movie or TV show. I've probably seen it or have it. There's nothing quite like reminiscing over things from our past yet staying in the present. That's probably why I make a good packrat. There are memories absorbed into so many of my things.

So, I'm outta here. Things are a little better with me now. Friday was a day where I was just a bit mad at various things going on. How many think that life will get better once Bush is out of office? It's quite immediate, huh? While the economy/recession isn't completely his fault, a lot of it is so it'll be nice not to hear about the latest increase in jobless claims. Though, it might be nice if the latest Penthouse Pet Of the Year starts the trend of women bringing back some good old bush down there. It's amazing how foreign it felt to find a woman spreading her legs while a medium amount of dark hair covered her crotch. Razor companies would cry foul. Happy twats all around.

Fuck This

"Hug it out, bitch."

-Entourage

Know what scares me? Finding out that one of my friends just lost a nice job as a manager of Starbucks. Hate the place but still........a friend's a friend. 27 Starbucks are going to close in Illinois. One of them happens to be the one I am mentioning. Scares the shit out of me that there is a 50% chance that a lighter version of Bush could be elected president. The world does not have the ability to stay alive with something old and cranky.

That's my thought of the day. I'm not interested in writing anything else. People don't blog much anymore so why should I?

Enter The Joker

"We'll get wild and crazy!"

-Quiet Riot

Just another day. That's what I had to tell myself after yesterday's mishaps at getting home, to work, and trying to settle my already scrambled mind. Throughout the day, I could only feel like I am so behind and scared at how fragile things can get when faced with no way to get home. I'm so lucky I found Flipper but still shake my head at how blunt he was with what he loves.

'Pussy.'

A very large guy with only 6 fingers can become obsessed with what he cannot get.

Seen the new Batman flick? Oh lordy, how demented and delightful did that bring my hopes on Sunday? Pretty much everything was such a thrill, Heath Ledger's performance as The Joker and our love of Batman, the Dark Knight. As crazy as it sounds, the two complete each other. One battles his demons by helping to rid the city of crime. The other? What demons? Enjoy 'em! Chaos can only bring about the beauty in violence.

I'm sure you've heard thousands of stories about how Heath Ledger became The Joker. It's great for me to say that it's all so good. Batman has been a comic that I've loved for years, where it's a dark world that is inhabited by some of the most amazing evil geniuses. The Joker, very well-known, is one of them. Seeing Heath release a very demented form of genius by staring so scarily at the camera or at his main nemesis, Batman, brought me to my knees. In no way was this character shown as something to admire but more along the lines of marveling at how mad someone can become. Just how did The Joker get those scars? In the movie, there were two explanations but which is true? Or was it all one big joke to a guy that enjoys using knives because it brings out more screams?

One thing I loved was that there was no explanation as to why The Joker did what he did. It's up to you to try and figure out his need to blow up the hospital, school buses, and crash parties just to torture those seen as more beautiful. No more of that pathetic attempt to tell us that The Joker killed Batman's parents (It was Joe Chill, a street thug) like Tim Burton's version did. It's just plain madness to see a man riding a cop car with his head out the window after blowing up the police station.

Gloriously beautiful, no?

It's fascinating to see a person delve so deep into a character. What drove me to near nerdgasms was those pictures from the movie used to whet our appetites. There was the Joker in a prison cell, smeared make-up and a sneer as if there is more to come while wearing clothes damaged from an unknown battle. Wasn't that street fight impressive? Could you stand there as a motorcycle comes at you as if you're just dying to see what death is like?

If there was one thing that annoyed me about the new Batman movie, The Dark Knight, it was that it felt a slight bit of laziness. Too many hostage situations. Can't think of what to do with a character? Put in a hostage situation. In fact, put in 2 or 3 more! People get rescued only to have another set being placed near death's door.

Sara and I went to see The Dark Knight on Sunday afternoon. Packed fucking house! There was 8 of us in all. While the girls had a few problems with the hostage issues and one didn't like seeing the hospital blown up, pretty much all of us loved it. Never thought I'd see The Joker in a nurse's outfit having trouble walking due to the short skirt.

The Dark Knight is not for the kids. After our showing ended, we saw a little one on his way in with his mom. Nothing like seeing one dressed up as Batman but not for this flick. No way. Far too violent and dark for a kid to watch The Joker act out his need to terrorize. I'm still shocked that The Dark Knight got a PG-13 rating when it was clearly an R. If I was still 8 or 9, my parents would forbid me from seeing this movie. Much of my little kid life was spent being told sex is okay but violence is not something I'm ready for. Geniuses. My parents paved the way for me to see the beauty of a penis penetrating the vagina.

Of course, a lot of other things happened. Spent a lot of my Saturday up in Chicago where the nice houses are near Lamborghini dealerships. Sara's cousin lives up there and this is only my second time meeting the guy. The first being when I pissed off my girlfriend by coming to her house unexpected.

Some girls don't like surprises.

So, I must be off as I hope many of you take a look at The Dark Knight. Heath really went all out on this one to the point that Sara and I debated whether this is Oscar caliber material. I say no only in thinking that the Academy doesn't recognize movies where material is found in comic books. Yes, there are amazing characters and situations to put up for all to see but a place where old men still rule doesn't quite mean a love for all. I'm going to see The Dark Knight again, by the way. It was that fucking good, 2 hours and 32 minutes good. That police car scene, the street fight, and interrogation room mishap are reasons enough. Happy twats all around.

Flipper Found Me

"Of all the stories to open up with, you just cannot make up getting a ride with a guy that has only 6 fingers."

-Me (to the guy that gave me a ride after my car broke down from the heat)

It was inevitable. After all that time spent driving West and East on the interstate, I was going to have car trouble eventually. Lucky for me, it was right near an exit that I know well. Lucky for me, I only had to pull my car over to the side and hop over a very sharp fence to get help. Yeah, to bring even more sorrow, my cell-phone didn't quite charge last night. Bad luck versus good luck. Lucky for me, most of the good was in my favor thanks to a guy nicknamed "Flipper."

How's that to ya? I got a ride home with a guy that has 4 fingers missing from his right hand. He's not shy about it at all. Those missing digits got pulled off by a horse that carried off some strong rope around his hand. Freak accident? Oh, yeah! Nice guy to do what he did and nice conversation. Of all the things to come out of his mouth, it had to come after he told me he doesn't care about the new Batman movie.

"Pussy."

Ask a guy what he loves more than anything else and this is what he says. Gotta love the honesty. I guess an unmarried guy with a very deformed hand gets more love out of the female anatomy than a superhero flick's glow. Of course, I laughed. I'm all for the blunt and surprising shit rather than going through the usual sob story.

Anyway, my car is fine. The heat got to it so bad that the engine needed to be cooled off. My last trip to the car shop found me without a/c. Yup, you try driving in this weather without a cool feeling of air during this time of year. My dad's slowly working on bringing it back even if the place I took it to seems to fuck it up yearly.

So, I am leaving you here for now. I'm home all because of Flipper and my own insanity of hoping over a fence with sharp edges to keep intruders out. There are cuts to prove it and Mom's making brownies for the guy that got me home. All's right in the world and, yes, I did see the new Batman movie, The Dark Knight. Sara is fine, too. We'll talk later. Happy twats all around.

Just Give You One Mic

"Weird pussies"

-One of the common searches that my blog comes up on

Just what the hell is a 'weird pussy?' Is it the outer lips being an odd color? Size? What of the inner lips? Too much like a sea monster about to break free from its shell? I've seen a lot of vaginas/pussies/cunts but not many that I'd define as 'weird.' Every girl is different when it comes to what she is packing between her legs just as any guy suddenly unzipped will show a girl something different than the last cock in her face. Some penises curve while others are straight as an arrow. My ex, Jen, loved how the veins on a penis are placed, wiggly or solidly straight. Some people have too much time on their hands when it comes to using computers at work.

Black girls as ugly? This one is new to me because I got into a little discussion with my deaf co-worker that didn't quite finish. I noticed that he was watching a very beautiful black girl walking to her work area. Nice face and body. My co-worker then used sign language to state that she was fine so I asked him what his definition of this was. According to him, a beautiful black woman is one that doesn't have the darkest of skin but a 'light brown.'

I've always found skin color odd to discuss. Black people were black. White people were white. Indians are brown. Mean old people are shriveled up shrews. Life is simple again. Can we go back to it?

I'm getting the gist that black people with the the darkest of skin are not quite as attractive as those that have a lighter skin tone. Mind you, this is coming from a black guy with very dark skin. Does my co-worker need a beatdown in the worst way? Or is he right? I've very rarely seen a black guy with a woman this is just as dark as he is. Many black guys seem to go for white women of the large variety, namely ass or tits, while many white guys avoid these types of women. According to my other black co-worker, it's all about that A-S-S. When you push your dick in there, it's gotta have some sweet cushion to slam into.

So, can we get an honest account of how weird all of us are?

I'm white. In fact, I'm so damn white that much of me could be considered a ghost since there is a lot of paleness. I once got called "Mike, The Friendly Ghost" by a girl I once had a major crush on. It's been stuck on me ever since and even Sara brings up things like that. No melanoma on me, ma. Apparently, I'm still attractive since the girl I work with that likes to feel my chest up is black.

I dunno. It's a weird thing how I've suddenly had to rethink things when it comes to attraction. What does it for you? I'm always curious as to why people sleep with a certain 'type.' It's not too far off to say that a lot of girls go for guys that remind them of their dads. Sounds creepy but it's more along the lines of security. Dads always made their little girls feel safe and snug at night. If not, there's a .45 and a shovel for any asshole with an erection.

When I go to a shooting range with Sara's dad, I will make sure he doesn't bring a shovel.

So, I will be away this weekend. Friday is going to start out with those of us not invited to a wedding. 4 in all. Doesn't matter because it's over an hour away, it's hot as hell, and we don't know the people as well as the others doomed to sit with very religious. If there is an open bar, I can forget about the pain from listening to how great this Jeezus guy is.

Forget the water to wine. Can he give boners to those that desperately need them instead of having to rely on sports for entertainment?

I'm hoping Batman is on for this weekend somewhere. There is also a possible family affair I must attend with Sara that takes place in Chicago. I love meeting family because it seems like I end up in a corner with Sara making comments over weird things. Last time, I learned I am very good at putting a spoon on my nose. Yes, my Batman t-shirt is packed up and ready to be worn by the male with a bit too much in the pectoral department (I am still working on shrinking these babies, though). Have fun, kids. To those of you with the Playboy Channel, like me, try out some of those positions no matter how ridiculous those amateurs look. Watching a penis thrust in and out of a wet vagina does get tiring to look at. Instead, use it as a mic on karaoke night. Go wild with some "Making Love Out Of Nothing At All!" Happy twats all around.

Older Women Unzipped

"Any day where I have several people stare at my strange movements all to tell a story is a day well spent."

-Me

How did you start your day at work? Grab a cup of coffee and mingle with various people that come in? Read over an old newspaper or magazine left behind in the staff room? Try mine. Not knowing all the words needed in sign language, I tried to tell the deaf guy what I saw on satellite, a midget fucking a much taller woman. Acting out doggy style that kind of looks like a 5th Grader would is hard. Did you know people stare?

As much as I am delighted to be informed how midgets have sex, I'm not sure if hearing a guy going at it so rough with someone so much taller/bigger is good reason to say, "Take it all, bitch!" 3-inches doesn't qualify a guy I can toss over my shoulders with one arm to say such a thing. Besides, it kind of makes those of us that are 5'10 to wonder if little people really do dream of being bigger, height and penis.

Doggy style does look kind of nice if you are a little person. To just stand as tall as you can and hit that ass so hard is a dream. It's just when it comes to the 'money shot' where her tooth is almost as big as his dick that I forget all that stuff.

Never tell me you can predict your day. You get up. You go to work. Same ol' same ol'? Well, take a walk because I met a very interesting lady close to when I made my way home afterwards. My dog, on the other hand, decided to take a nap during the whole conversation.

I like foreign people. I like foreign people that tend to ask me where I am from thanks to an accent that comes out at various times. Am I Australian? European? Maybe I'm adopted and I came out of a box in an insane escape from a Nike factory! This lady, after a few other times coming across her, wanted to have a nice little chat. It all starts with wanting to know about 5-Pound Phooey and works its way to my girlfriend and feelings on the Bush regime. Sometimes, it takes those from another country to remind me why so many Americans are stupid.

Mind you, this foreign woman, Toolay (pronounced: 'Two-Lah') is from Europe. In no way was she intrusive in wanting to know about me. I'm quite friendly when you provoke my mind in certain ways. Since Toolay was so polite, I couldn't resist standing there in front of a store used as a storage place. There could have been tea but I had a tired dog to deal with and I pretty much stunk, this being after my workout and walk.

So, Toolay and I talked and talked about how Americans are so gullible about the lies fed to them by our media (look at The New Yorker's depiction of Obama as Muslim). This woman being foreign, she would hate to have McCain as president because she fears so much more war due to a love of it from this man. Iraq was bad but now it's a mess under Bush's stupidity. At least during Saddam, people had water and electricity. Now Iraqis hope to have it once or twice a week. I'm no fan of the Middle Eastern smelly people (Times change. Follow a religion not bent on keeping you in caves fucking camels.) but even I have sympathy for going through this disastor. Why does our government spend more time in foreign affairs when things are so bad in America? How is it so awful to show the naked female form?

Personal stuff got fun. I love to chat when it comes to someone wanting to know a little about my life. Toolay wanted to know about Sara, particularly about painting because this woman is an artist as well. She designs for various businesses, artwork or just placing unique wording on t-shirts/advertising. Nice of Toolay to give me two pens to keep as a way to show me what she does. It's always nice to hear a European wonder why Americans are so prudish when it comes to the female body. According to Toolay, it's great to be naked and taken pictures/paintings of.

That would explain the oddness of when I first came across Toolay. The woman walked out of the shop with her husband. After a few seconds, I realized her pants were completely unzipped and unbuttoned. The man was smiling so I'm thinking that either she got fucked or there are moments where a woman just wants to walk around with her pants down to ankles at some point.

Can anyone explain to me the fear of dogs? 5-Pound Phooey is tiny. At 13-pounds, she's got some muscle but is still too small to scare anything but a large collection of Legos. Toolay was very shy about even touching 5-Pound Phooey, even after a few minutes of begging. It's too weird to me. I can understand someone's fear of large dogs even if I have none. But a tiny muscular Yorkshire Terrier that shows friendliness?

Somewhere out there, there is a midget that has had a moment of exteme built up ego where he thinks that his 3-inches will frighten a woman 2-feet taller than him. Hardness turns to a noodle upon the uncontrollable giggles as he is unzipped.

Must be off. Tired. You know the drill. The heat makes sleep more difficult or something. Waking up takes longer and I need to cry myself to sleep over my ridiculous behavior at work. You live in your world. I rule mine by being mildly retarded til I die. Happy twats all around.

What'd Batman Say?

"Justice and power must be brought together, so that whatever may be powerful, and whatever is powerful may be just."

-Blaise Pascal

I learned something new about my town today. When I asked my deaf co-worker if he was going to go see the new Batman movie, The Dark Knight, he responded 'no.' I should have thought about that. Most deaf people wait til a movie comes out before getting any sort of rush into seeing something that they cannot hear, hence the confusion. Surprise, surprise. There is a local movie theater that plays brand new movies with captions, only the deaf have to wait 2-3 weeks til they can see them.

My deaf co-worker is a hoot to work with. I told him that an all-deaf showing of The Dark Knight will be so much quieter than what we hearing people have to deal with. Noisy kids, cell-phones going off, rude people arriving so late by putting their asses in your face to cross the aisle, and those that won't shut the fuck up. You know it by heart, people. Haven't you ever wanted to take someone's phone and throw it the fuck all the way to the other side of the theater just to hear it smash? Deaf people, on the other hand, will allow for so much quiet in the place. My only problem would be the occasional kick in the back of my chair.

Oh, and what's up with sitting right in front of me when there's 30 other spots just as good? What does blocking my view make sitting there so much better?

I may just be some sort of paranoid weirdo sitting in the theater hoping that the next person walking down the aisle has not chosen to sit in front of me because I like to rest my feet against the chair. Does that coincide with how ridiculous I must have looked in the gym when making googly faces to a 50-something-year-old friend tonight?

I did have fun talking to a guy that just comes right up to me to ask when the new Batman movie comes out. What is it about me that gives off a beacon that I know this? I would hope that it's because I look like Batman in some way. Am I handsome? Check. Am I good at getting out of tight places? Check. Do I want to see the good guys prevail? Sorta. Nobody's perfect. I still think weed and possibly all drugs should be legalized.

My satellite is back! Nothing like plopping down on my bed to find that there is a whole set of channels where I can see very large penises penetrating a lot of vaginas. No asses. I've still yet to see anal sex done on satellite. Sara took a look at all this when she was here that week. I've never seen the problem of actresses barely able to conceal the fact that it's all about a paycheck. Sure, she grunts, sucks, and swallows a large amount of cum. It's just that there seems to be no interest in actually fucking. It's in. It's out. It's over.

I dunno. Thanks to Sara's assessment, I've found myself wondering how people can fuck all for a paycheck or go gay for pay. No amount of money would get me to fuck someone that I have absolutely no interest in having sex with. $10,000 would get you a peck on the cheek and possibly a pat on the fanny. I'm just too picky on who I want to stick my dick into. Love the feeling. Love how sticky my dick gets once it's in there. Just the major factor that comes to mind, I want to want you.

How's life, work? Summer still has me working less. Maybe I should rethink my thoughts on fucking for a living, huh? The economy affects how much I make but not how many lovely women need to be penetrated in order to help them sleep at night. I'm still up in odds. It's that time of year where the weather makes any sort of working absolutely horrifying so why do I feel like I'm wasting away? My deaf co-worker keeps signing to me that I'm a 'motherfucker.'

Wonder how he really feels.........

So, I must endeth your enjoyment (or possibly that feeling you want to throw up after reading this) by saying I wish I hadn't eaten that big bowl of crunchy Raisin Bran. A bit too much. My dog, 5-Pound Phooey, loves it when I sit down on the floor to give her some. Why can't she be nicer to me when we're on walks? Lately, I've had to stand underneath the shade of a tree because she won't budge til she's pissed off another schnauzer. She hates that type of dog with so much passion in the same way I have a hard time looking at the obese people walking out of a fast food restaurant. Happy twats all around.

I'm In Dread

"And it all comes down to this...."

-Me

So, I sit here wondering why I feel as if I have nothing to say. Not a damn thing. My mind is completely void of wanting to sit here and blurt out whatever insane/stupid/thoughtful thing I find myself wanting to share. Am I depressed? Lost? I've said it once so I'll just have to say it again. When things feel completely stagnant or you lose the muse of others making amazingly enchanting entries, there seems to be no point. Here I am talking to a dark wall with no hint of my own breath to show I'm breathing.

Is it that time that I dread? My birthday is awfully close along with my 1-year anniversary at work. Sticking to the same thing for more than 5 months is quite an accomplishment. Now if I can only shake my slight urge to do something different. I'm growing bored all while forcing myself to stay due to the little perks work gives me. I'm pathetic thanks to a scary economy.

There is no urge for sex. Zero. You, my female readers, could take down your panties and prance around me for no result but to admire your feminine features. I love to see the lovely pink parts but there is no unzipping of my shorts.

I don't like knowing my birthday is not too far off. It scares me to know I've lived longer than I once thought. Funny how it has me thinking about all those people that told me how lucky they are to have children while getting married young. Now they look haggard and out of it as various rolls of excess skin hang down their 'fat jeans.' That doesn't mean I feel any better about myself. Remember? I'm stagnant. Going nowhere or something like that. Going to inherit some serious cash but I want something more.

To find myself. But where do I begin?

Am I having an epiphany? Is it a sudden non-caring of all these materialistic possessions that once drove me? Did I obtain everything I once wanted? Was it all about the chase? Or am I just miserable because it feels like everyone else is miserable? Just how does someone have a life while juggling 3 jobs and the bank is about to foreclose on your home?

I'm also very worried about Sara. To lose her job at this time is very hard. One of her friends had to move back in with his parents. The break-in at the house might have scared him but it could be more, more as in financially. Who knows. I'd hate to see Sara forced into moving back in with her parents. Trust me. Her mom would drive her crazier than I could deal with. Yes, there are problems within this relationship but nothing too destructive that we can't work on. Relationships are work. If you say 'no,' I kill you. I kill you good.

So, I'm going to lay down and finish the movie about some lucky guy's finding out he shouldn't marry a controlling woman thanks to a magical list telling of all the girls he's fucked. Impressive. To have an email suddenly appear that tells you who it is that gets your dick inside them! What joy! Well, I did watch that new movie, The Ruins, which was pretty good if you have an interest in killer plants. There was the latest Batman movie that ties into what happens before he meets the joker in The Dark Knight. Bloody cartoons are cool. I'm going to be a total dork for wearing my tight grey Batman shirt with the huge symbol on the chest. Don't giggle. You'll hate it when I'm beating you senseless after you laughed at me. I really need to kiss Sara right now. Happy twats all around.

Mad Dog No Beer

"Weapons Of Mass Consumption."

-The slogan for the bus that I stopped to have a beer from

Nothing makes a walk better than an ice cold beer. Nothing. Okay, maybe a nice slow body soothing blowjob where my back is held softly by the softest bed and my penis is passed back and forth by women that know their ways around an AR-15 machine gun.

Actually, that took place today, the beer but not the blowjob. Lucky me to end my walk with 5-Pound Phooey only to find that a friend of mine working for a local channel is attending a luxurious meeting. My park was presented by some wealthy middle-aged men and women all holding various forms of alcohol. Ah, the smell of beer! I'm all sweaty, my dog is out of her damn mind wanting attention, and I am presented with a beer. There is a god and his name is Miller Chill. Am I the only one that sees the combination of a lime as being a stroke of genius?

What's hard to do when presented by a small crowd of spoiled middle-aged is getting my dog to leave. I'm pretty sure she wanted a sip or two of my Miller Chill after waiting on a bottle opener. Drinking near the park? Of course! Little dog watches as I down the hatch the bottle in less than 5 minutes. Damn tasty. Now if only I could get 5-Pound Phooey to stop craving attention so we can go home...........

The benefits of knowing people that can give you a free beer or discounts are endless. Just ask my friends at Borders and Barnes & Noble.

So, how are you? I'm realizing how much I miss Sara. One week here and it feels so quiet in this house without her. No one to help get up and give a tap in order to get her going. My mom certainly does. It's rare for her to find another female to chitter chatter with. Who knows what they said about me. As long as the naked bath tub pics of me when I was 4 do not get displayed.

Ah, the old days of having a small wiener at such a young age. Now, it's like I have to have a forklift to carry the kinds of balls I was blessed with.

Due to the overload of so many employees at work, I am being sent home early. Hooray or nay? It's kind of tough to say. While I love to be home earlier to rid myself of the excess sweat and grime, I kind of find myself deep into work and don't want to go home so soon. Sure, the first 5 minutes suck but then it's like an addiction. Muscles are warmed up. Mind is trying to figure out how to deal with the latest puzzle presented to me. Female co-worker won't stop flirting with me. It's daily. It's my life but it means less money to take off early. Also makes me realize how great air conditioning is.

Heard of a little movie called "Wanted?" Lovely. Sara and I saw it 2 times because it's that fucking good. Went on Friday and dragged our friends to see it the next day. Friends didn't like it but Sara and I giggled at all the cool scenes we had now memorized. Wanted kind of asks you if you are really living your life. That woman that harasses Wesley reminds me of how bad it can get when you have an upper-level person to report to that is, in best terms, a complete fucking pisser. Funny how this person was shown as a donut eating fatass type I normally see in Wal-Marts everywhere. I'm always dying to ask them if they realize how pathetic they look to carry so much extra weight.

Plus, Wanted is Angelina Jolie with guns. You just cannot go wrong with that combination. Period.

My mom's jaw dropped when I told her the amount I spent for Sara's birthday dinner. It was so worth it because I got schooled on how to eat pasta with a fork and spoon. If it's not dishwashing liquid in the bath, it's how to collect stringy noodles with a fork. I guess a small part of me is white trash but educated.

So, I must heal after only now getting time to spend in the gym. My biceps are swollen while my chest will hit that mark tomorrow. It's called time-delayed muscle soreness. I love it because it tells me I hit the right areas. The honor of seeing someone copy my unique workout tickled my mind. Yes, I do something weird to the point that Sara's dad watched me as well. The man hounded me for why/how I turn 2 dumbbells up to do deep push-ups that would look like I am stretching open my chest. Tis not for the faint of heart. Very painful if not done right or as a first time but these kinds of push-ups work the chest like no other. It's no wonder it gets stared at all while I am trying to shrink the muscle a little bit yet keep it extremely strong.

It's fun to see the reactions of people when I work out with them. Sara's dad and I went through a session together. It killed time for me since I had a lot of frustrations to rid myself of. The extra adrenaline flow of people that look amazed kept me going even longer. The reward? Sara's dad put almost 2 pounds of salmon on the grill. Almost a pound of it was in my belly that night. I will work you in any gym.

Alas, I must be off. Should I discuss the porn I've come across from satellite? It's tempting. Apparently, there are great benefits of threesomes. When the penis slides out during heavy thrusting, it's so sweet to have another woman there to help put it back in immediately. A reward? Oh, a good ol' fashioned licking in all directions. It doesn't help if he's so bad that she thinks it's her own dog licking her swollen strawberry. Happy twats all around.

Is Normal Great?

"You are not a dish."

-Sara (her explanation on why I should stop putting dishwashing liquid prior to my daily baths)

I guess we can chalk up today as the first day in my road to normal. No coming home from work all in the need to entertain someone laying on my bed due to a badly sprained ankle. No more arguing with a small dog that said person is allowed there as well. And no more being worn out discussing the Wimbledon Final, where I don't even care which guy won. Nadal did. I was happy because he reminded me of Agassi's making tennis fun again.

So, you want to know my week? Long one. Sara, as I've said before, has a badly sprained ankle. Spent a lot of time opening the car doors, pulling out crutches, helping carry things into the bathroom (girls have a lot of stuff!), holding crutches out for her when she has to get up, and whatever else that I did just cause it's what I'm supposed to fucking do. I'm not complaining at all because I remember what it was like to have a broken foot and had to hop around for at least 8 weeks. It sucked. It sucked big time to be forced to use crutches. My roommates, Bald-O and Co., had to carry my things around for me.

However, I do enjoy remembering the good old surprise of the many girls that insisted I take their chairs when I first walked/hopped into the Human Sexuality Class. Ah, to be able to start an argument over blowjobs again............

The reason for the quote is from my own good luck. Sara has to now take baths due to her ankle issues. When I helped draw one for her, I put in what I've used since I was a child, dishwashing liquid for the bubbles and its cleaning effect. Sara thought I was nuts and insisted I go out to get real bubble bath stuff. She's right and my skin has never been better! Yeah, it was me in the girly store choosing which scent works best. I choose orange!

Once, at work, I told the deaf guy that Sara was at my house talking to my mom. He laughed and asked me if they were talking and talking and talking. It was the first time I ever wanted to be at work. Really.

The one thing I never truly understood about women is their need to talk. My mom's totally in this so putting Sara together with her means trouble. There was a lot of talking that I'm sure I would be happy to be away from. Women, especially the 20-year-old type, talk like a group of chattering squirrels. It's insane to try to figure out this secret language where many men, even the most manly of all, don't dare try to disrupt. For me, personally, I just like to get to the point by adding a few sentences. For Sara, it means over and hour of chattering with her roommate that she hasn't seen in 4 or 5 days. I haven't seen Bald-O for almost a year and our conversation was nowhere near this!

The whole week wore me the fuck out! There was barely any chance for me to work out in order to rid myself of frustrations. Hardly any sex took place due to this and Sara's ankle. That thing was black and blue so I want it healed as soon as possible.

Obviously, this lack of being able to let things out led to a few arguments. One had the gas station attendant laugh at Sara and I as we went at it over gas prices. I put in the usual but didn't see that the other was cheaper by 13 cents. Listen, I drove both ways, to Bald-O's and back while she read a book or discussed things with me. The other argument was over trying to find parking to a very nice deli. Sometimes, I think Sara just loses her fucking mind and I want to find an ejection seat for her. Oh, and if you need to know, both times had her apologizing.

It's weird how things are only slowly back to normal. The Playboy Channel is still amusing. Various people in the gym wave at me. The brown girl still continues to look for me. I come home drenched in sweat. Life is great. Now, if I can get rid of that image from a different porn channel of a girl using a baby wipe on her ass prior to getting fucked, things would be perfect. Then again, it is nice to let the guy know that everything's honky-dory down there prior to a good rug munching. Happy twats all around.

Still In Awe

"And so the craziness ends at some point where the recipient looks back and somehow commits to the quiet."

-Me

It's true. A lot happened all this week thanks to spending a lot more time with Sara. Be it here in this house or at her apartment, we were around each other for more time than we're used to these days. I'm still in shock as to how I'm so used to this girl I've been sleeping next to for over 3 years.

I didn't blog for one main reason. I found it rude to be on the computer when there is company to deal with. While I do understand some time alone, it just feels too strange for me to tell someone to find their own fun while I go off and unleash my inner thinking on a computer. It's just not healthy to sit down in a form of darkness while someone a short distance away enjoys being tickled in her mind.

If I sound strange, I can tell you, in very easy terms, why. I'm tired from all the driving. First, we start with going to Indiana. Then, we come here. A few days later, it's on to my college friends' house way down south. Back to here. And finally? Again, in Indiana only to end up here barely in time for work. Is it any wonder why I'm so dog-tired? To go straight to leaving pools of sweat on the work's floorspace tells you what I go through.

As for the $22,000 engagement ring entry. I'd just like to make it clear that it was only done in playfulness. That kind of money is better spent with a few months in Paris followed by Australia. The only reason I mentioned it was because, of all the rings in the store, Sara found the $22,000 one the best. I'm not gonna lie. It looked better than nice but why spend so much money on one small thing? To Sara and I, it's insane to spend such money that could be better spent on things to enjoy rather than feeling tied down to constant payments.

Funny how tears were shed before I left Sara's apartment. The long week wore us down to the point that things held in came out. I started it by going on how much it hurts to see Sara so sad after she lost her job. I tend to absorb things that hurt others.

No, I didn't watch the fireworks. Needless to say, when college friends are involved, you're just too fucking drunk to get up off your butt. It's been a long time since I've seen Bald-O, Mark, Rob, Mikel, and Bald-O's mom. We're still a good bunch and Sara being there gave more small town gossip than they know what to do with. I doubt a population of 6,000 knows what to do with large amounts of outed lesbians.

So, I must be off, seeing as there is so much to catch up on. According to Sara, I smashed my fist into her bookshelf during a nightmare. Everything built up to frustrations after a lot of foreign intrusion. My mother loved talking and talking and talking to Sara when she stayed here. For me, it was odd to wake up with someone to take care of (busted ankle), head off to work, and then entertain. How do people do this everyday!?! Happy twats all around.

On Vacation

"They say in heaven, love comes first."

-'Heaven Is A Place On Earth' by Belinda Carlisle

Don't fret. I'm still around. It's just that Sara has a badly sprained right foot. She's here at my house being taken care of by my mother. Yes, it is interesting to note this because my mother has always wanted a daughter while Sara's dad has always wanted a son. She's an only child while I have no sisters. See why Sara and I's parents love visits?

I'm just coming on here to let you know I'm alive, okay? I've been terribly busy with Sara being here, her foot issues, and this being her birthday today. A lot. Did you know engagement rings cost $22,000? Guess who looked at rings and smiled while I was off looking at expensive watches.

So, I will be back when everything settles down. My mother is having a great time and might even do girly things with Sara while I am at work or in the gym tomorrow. Be prepared for when I get back from Bald-O's. That's where I will have to explain myself where I looked into that bald boy's eyes and had the time of my life. After......uh.....16 beers, all boys suddenly question their sexuality. Happy twats all around.