Some Loner Classics
I always talk about my overall disdain for bloggers, as well as blogs in general. Yeah, that might at first glance seem hypocritical--but really, when you think about it, it's not. I do have contempt for the whole concept of blogging... that's true. But I also have contempt for myself. See that? I'm just as hard on myself as anyone else. Hell, I can hardly stand to be in the room with myself.
I have a confession to make, though; this is NOT my first blog. I used to keep an online journal a few years back, a journal that a grand total of three people knew about. I stopped writing in it last year, and I thought it was long gone. But surprise, surprise... it's still up. And I thought some of you might like to see a few old entries that never should haver seen the light of day. I'll say this much... my life has managed to suck on a very consistent basis. Take a look;
Thursday, October 16th, 2003
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7:56 am - Dirty Talk...?
I was talking to an old friend of mine last night--I met her 15 years ago on a camping trip and we've been in contact ever since. She even dated my brother at one point, but I try not to hold that against her.
Anyway, every time I talk to her we seem to get on the subject of sex. She's married and has two kids, which means she doesn't get it anywhere near the amount that she'd like. (Join the club, honey.) Not that her husband is a bad guy, it's just that nature plays a cruel joke on every married couple at some point. She's 31, which means she's constantly horny. He's 33, which means the last thing he wants after a long day at work is his wife crawling all over him. She's just hitting her sexual peak, while he "shot his wad" (so to speak) over a decade ago. Ain't love grand?
Of course, she's always asking for my advice in these matters. She'll openly complain about her sexual frustrations to me, often times while he's in the same room. He doesn't seem to give a fuck--I think his feeling is, "At least she's not bitching at me."
And while I don't claim to know much of anything about women, I do know what I like as a man. So, I offered my advice, simple and to the point... TALK DIRTY TO HIM.
"You always say that," she bitches.
It seems pretty self-explanatory to me, but I can't believe how many women won't do this for their man. I've personally only had two women that would do anything even remotely close to this, and that's stretching it. Most of the time they just lie there and moan, forcing you to play the "Guess Where My G-Spot Is?" game.
Now, let's suppose you're a woman and you want your guy to go down on you... do you say;
a) "Why don't you go down on me?" OR...
b) "I want you to stick that hot tongue in my wet pussy!"(?)
If you answered "A", your problem should be quite evident. And you're probably one of my ex-girlfriends.
current mood: moody
(3 comments | comment on this)
Wednesday, October 15th, 2003
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4:55 pm - The Jewel Controversy
While I must agree with StolenPrayer's assessment on Jewel, the pictures on DeansPlanet.com had me thinking more along the lines of "Who is that lucky bastard suckling on Jewel's funbags??"
The thing that REALLY bothers me the most is the fact that the guy looks like a complete loser. Jesus Christ, life is unfair.
I will agree that she looked hotter back before she slutted herself up to sell more records. I remember a few years back when she had a small part in some movie (can't remember the name), and there was this huge deal made over the fact that she supposedly had a breast-feeding scene in the film. The funny thing is, it was a fake boob! How do you go from being a total prude to being slutty??
At least she didn't have her snaggle tooth fixed. I'll say that much for her.
current mood: distressed
(7 comments | comment on this)
Sunday, October 12th, 2003
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5:51 pm - Merlot and Shit
I'm not a very cultured man. I have no sense of style, I drink too much, swear too much... well, you get the picture. I'm just an average schmo with a shitty car and student loan payments.
I was out grocery shopping the other day and headed for the beer aisle. (Of course.) Instead of my customary purchase of a few 40's, something possessed me to buy a bottle of Merlot instead. Now, I know absolutely nothing about wine--so I have no idea what's good and what isn't. But what the fuck, the bottle looked fancy so I figured it must be all right. It even proudly boasted that it was from 2001. Besides, I can drink swill beer like Natural Lite and not gag. I assumed that Merlot had to taste better than that.
When I got the bottle home, it dawned on me that I don't own a corkscrew. So I had to jab the fucking cork with a butter knife until it fell through the neck of the bottle and bobbled merrily in the purple, foamy liquid. I poured myself a healthy glass into a red plastic Solo cup and held it up to my nose to savor the bouquet.
"Hmmmmm... this smells kinda nasty," I mused to myself before taking a drink. (A big, long drink, too.) Holy shit, did that shit taste bad. I mean really, really bad. "Maybe I just need to get used to it," I told myself. But the second drink was no better than the first, and before I got even halfway through the glass I poured it out into the sink in disgust. So much for culture.
Oh well, I doubt that wine goes well with Taco Bell, anyway...
current mood: indifferent
(2 comments | comment on this)
Wednesday, October 8th, 2003
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9:45 pm - More of the Same
So, I dropped by 7-11 during my lunch break to get something to drink. As I'm walking toward the store, there's this somewhat skanky woman standing by a car. She looks at me, does a double take and says;
"Oh my God, you're handsome!"
Not surprisingly, I was a bit startled and looked behind me to see if she was talking to somebody else. People don't normally shout things like that at other people--even if they are handsome. She continues with, "That's the kind of man I need, right there!" I considered the possibility that she might have been making fun of me, but there wasn't anybody else in the parking lot. (Which I guess would have made it a private joke.)
"Um... thanks," I said, and made a beeline for the door.
When I got inside, the two clerks were talking about some woman trying to come in the store with no shoes on. When they stopped her, she explained, "It's okay, I'm a hillbilly."
"Let me guess," I interrupted, "Was it that woman outside?" They told me that it was--and for some reason, it seemed to make sense.
The woman was nuts, you see.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Well, there you go. Sorry for the recycled material, but nobody reads this fucking blog anyway. Besides, I'm feeling too lazy to write anything new tonight.
I have a confession to make, though; this is NOT my first blog. I used to keep an online journal a few years back, a journal that a grand total of three people knew about. I stopped writing in it last year, and I thought it was long gone. But surprise, surprise... it's still up. And I thought some of you might like to see a few old entries that never should haver seen the light of day. I'll say this much... my life has managed to suck on a very consistent basis. Take a look;
Thursday, October 16th, 2003
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
7:56 am - Dirty Talk...?
I was talking to an old friend of mine last night--I met her 15 years ago on a camping trip and we've been in contact ever since. She even dated my brother at one point, but I try not to hold that against her.
Anyway, every time I talk to her we seem to get on the subject of sex. She's married and has two kids, which means she doesn't get it anywhere near the amount that she'd like. (Join the club, honey.) Not that her husband is a bad guy, it's just that nature plays a cruel joke on every married couple at some point. She's 31, which means she's constantly horny. He's 33, which means the last thing he wants after a long day at work is his wife crawling all over him. She's just hitting her sexual peak, while he "shot his wad" (so to speak) over a decade ago. Ain't love grand?
Of course, she's always asking for my advice in these matters. She'll openly complain about her sexual frustrations to me, often times while he's in the same room. He doesn't seem to give a fuck--I think his feeling is, "At least she's not bitching at me."
And while I don't claim to know much of anything about women, I do know what I like as a man. So, I offered my advice, simple and to the point... TALK DIRTY TO HIM.
"You always say that," she bitches.
It seems pretty self-explanatory to me, but I can't believe how many women won't do this for their man. I've personally only had two women that would do anything even remotely close to this, and that's stretching it. Most of the time they just lie there and moan, forcing you to play the "Guess Where My G-Spot Is?" game.
Now, let's suppose you're a woman and you want your guy to go down on you... do you say;
a) "Why don't you go down on me?" OR...
b) "I want you to stick that hot tongue in my wet pussy!"(?)
If you answered "A", your problem should be quite evident. And you're probably one of my ex-girlfriends.
current mood: moody
(3 comments | comment on this)
Wednesday, October 15th, 2003
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
4:55 pm - The Jewel Controversy
While I must agree with StolenPrayer's assessment on Jewel, the pictures on DeansPlanet.com had me thinking more along the lines of "Who is that lucky bastard suckling on Jewel's funbags??"
The thing that REALLY bothers me the most is the fact that the guy looks like a complete loser. Jesus Christ, life is unfair.
I will agree that she looked hotter back before she slutted herself up to sell more records. I remember a few years back when she had a small part in some movie (can't remember the name), and there was this huge deal made over the fact that she supposedly had a breast-feeding scene in the film. The funny thing is, it was a fake boob! How do you go from being a total prude to being slutty??
At least she didn't have her snaggle tooth fixed. I'll say that much for her.
current mood: distressed
(7 comments | comment on this)
Sunday, October 12th, 2003
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
5:51 pm - Merlot and Shit
I'm not a very cultured man. I have no sense of style, I drink too much, swear too much... well, you get the picture. I'm just an average schmo with a shitty car and student loan payments.
I was out grocery shopping the other day and headed for the beer aisle. (Of course.) Instead of my customary purchase of a few 40's, something possessed me to buy a bottle of Merlot instead. Now, I know absolutely nothing about wine--so I have no idea what's good and what isn't. But what the fuck, the bottle looked fancy so I figured it must be all right. It even proudly boasted that it was from 2001. Besides, I can drink swill beer like Natural Lite and not gag. I assumed that Merlot had to taste better than that.
When I got the bottle home, it dawned on me that I don't own a corkscrew. So I had to jab the fucking cork with a butter knife until it fell through the neck of the bottle and bobbled merrily in the purple, foamy liquid. I poured myself a healthy glass into a red plastic Solo cup and held it up to my nose to savor the bouquet.
"Hmmmmm... this smells kinda nasty," I mused to myself before taking a drink. (A big, long drink, too.) Holy shit, did that shit taste bad. I mean really, really bad. "Maybe I just need to get used to it," I told myself. But the second drink was no better than the first, and before I got even halfway through the glass I poured it out into the sink in disgust. So much for culture.
Oh well, I doubt that wine goes well with Taco Bell, anyway...
current mood: indifferent
(2 comments | comment on this)
Wednesday, October 8th, 2003
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
9:45 pm - More of the Same
So, I dropped by 7-11 during my lunch break to get something to drink. As I'm walking toward the store, there's this somewhat skanky woman standing by a car. She looks at me, does a double take and says;
"Oh my God, you're handsome!"
Not surprisingly, I was a bit startled and looked behind me to see if she was talking to somebody else. People don't normally shout things like that at other people--even if they are handsome. She continues with, "That's the kind of man I need, right there!" I considered the possibility that she might have been making fun of me, but there wasn't anybody else in the parking lot. (Which I guess would have made it a private joke.)
"Um... thanks," I said, and made a beeline for the door.
When I got inside, the two clerks were talking about some woman trying to come in the store with no shoes on. When they stopped her, she explained, "It's okay, I'm a hillbilly."
"Let me guess," I interrupted, "Was it that woman outside?" They told me that it was--and for some reason, it seemed to make sense.
The woman was nuts, you see.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Well, there you go. Sorry for the recycled material, but nobody reads this fucking blog anyway. Besides, I'm feeling too lazy to write anything new tonight.
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