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Monthly Archives: May 2016

The unbearable lightness of dating

The unbearable lightness of being single.

There is a movie that came out in the 80’s that I got suckerede into seeing called the Unbearable Lightness of Being. (When a woman sporting a G-cup bra asks you to go see an erotic movie, your penis suddenly has an open social calendar.)

Director Phillip Kaufman basically held me hostage for 2 FUCKING HOURS and 51 minutes.

With popcorn.

Not only was it not an erotic movie as promised, there was no happy ending, on screen or off on that fated evening.

Even a sloppy handjob would have been at least a bandaid in this situation.

The only thing the movie did for me was to depress me and push me into a suicidal whiny morass that pooched my evening and several evenings to follow.

It was hands down, the most depressingly shitty tale ever told, like Sylvia Platt during the come down from a meth binge, like right before her teeth fell out.

The internet is supposed to make dating easier.

Instead you have an ocean of choices when all you want is a cup kept to yourself.

Think of cable tv.

We now have several hundred channels to watch, and yet, there is nothing on.

Same thing with dating.

And both dating and cable tv have gone up ridiculously in price over the years.

But, while flipping channels, if you do happen to catch daytime reality tv, you get to see the most bizarre couple combinations humanity has to offer.

So is that the only options left?

To find some sort of Jerry Springer green room contestant?

Maybe the illusion is the normal life and the real normal life is the freak show?

Never been a fan of freak shows, despite my limited exposure to it.

I have disarmed a mad woman in the dead of night.

I have been accused of impregnating a woman I never had sex with.

Same woman claimed I asked for her hand in marriage, which never happened. (Her entire argument was that I had implied it.)

A totally different woman tried to talk me into financing a murder.

Any decent psychologist would ask “Who are you punishing here?”

No clue.

If it was just one freak show, I could see it.

But 4 separate freak shows?

They are obviously not the problem.

It has to be me.

I am Nipsy Russell from the Wiz.

“The genius who created me only took care of my dashing good looks, my
razor-sharp wit and my irresistible attraction to the wrong women,”

We will ignore the lack of a heart thing, it kind of goes without saying.

So, if I cannot trust myself with finding the right woman, the only other solution is to leave it to karma.

Karma and I have a bit of history together.
I am still firmly of the opinion that karma is lazy and pretty much only shows up when it feels like it, if at all.

The idea of giving up seems counter productive, but there comes a point in any journey that when you hit a dead end you have to admit that the journey is over.

Giving up it is.

Somebody recently asked me about all of the hiking I am doing.

And it suddenly hit me that I am occupying my time.

And knowing me, it makes perfect sense that I found a hobby that includes a lot of time for reflection.

This is the mental version of pouring a mix of salt and lemon juice on a cut.

But there is almost a peace in the idea of giving up.

The unbearable lightness of dating.

Bite me.

 
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Posted by on May 27, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

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The sex ed penguins.

Went to another reunion, and it wasn’t even mine.

Not entirely certain how I keep ending up at other people’s reunions, but never making it to my own.

It can’t be because I don’t want to go, I mean, obviously I enjoy these types of odd soiree.

Maybe its that sense of not officially being eligible to be there.

Breaking even a basic rule can be fun.

Most people don’t, but this falls right in line with my Catholic School upbringing.

Catholic school is a bizarre form of psycho/sexual abuse that few people come away from unscathed.

I don’t mean being touched by a priest, that is a separate kind of crime, I am talking about the legal form of mental abuse. (Which I still don’t get. I mean, at age 9, I was HOT. You could have bounced a quarter off my ass. Nobody laid a finger on me.)

Sex ed, when taught by angry sexually frustrated nuns to angry sexually frustrated young boys, becomes a harrowing tale of the blind leading the blind.

The girls, in crisp white blouses, plaid skirts and patent leather shoes, were herded into one room, and a mangy group of sloppy boys was herded into the other.

The girls, I found out later, had a four hour lecture about how evil and vile boys were.

The boys, had a different afternoon.

Watching 4 hours of the most grisly VD movies ever made has a peculiar effect on the adolescent mind.

It had the same effect as the Reefer Madness films had from the 60’s.

We didn’t believe a word of them.

First off, masturbation did not cause blindness or hairy palms.

If it did, we would all be tapping white canes and look a lot like werewolves in school uniforms.

And I would be the Alpha Wolf.

Some of us discovered things earlier than others.

The funniest part was, non of us understood what they were talking about.

Self abuse? Who would abuse themselves, that sounds nasty.

Play with myself? Sure, who doesn’t?

There was 2 kids I went to school with that went to the bathroom a few times before recess, spent all of recess there, 1 time before lunch, all of lunch, and a few times before school got out.

In retrospect, it is possible that they were trying to rip it out by the root.

Like I always say, its important to have a hobby.

One kid stopped bringing lunch as eating cut down on his private time.

And non of us went blind. (Ironically, I am wearing glasses right now.

On a side note, I may be one of the hairier men you will meet this side of Little Armenia in Southern California.

Maybe something to that.

For the most part, we all survived the Catholic school version of Sex Ed.

But, much like returning soldiers who have been thru hell, we all bear the mental scars of it all.

The mildest side effects are those of us with the standard sexual kinks. Oral fixations, promiscuity, that sort of thing.

The worst are those that are the serious deviants. Gimp suits, scat fetishes, barnyard animals, and it gets worse.

And the world keeps turning.

And the nuns keep talking.

And the circle of life continues unimpeded.

 
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Posted by on May 20, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

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Anybody dead yet?

Paraskevidekatriaphobia: Fear of Friday the 13th.

Excuse me while I shit myself sideways and die.

Its no secret that this day in particular tends to give me an immediate case of swampass.

And you people are READING it on Friday the 13th as if its nothing.

Well, dipshit, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but…

We’re all gonna die.

Look at the logic, for God’s sake.

There is ONLY ONE Friday the 13th this year, versus 3 last year.

This year has all of the power crammed into one day.

Think this is bullshit?

Anyone want to guess when the last year was that had only one Friday the 13th in it?

2001, the year of 9/11.

Ha!

Now, I know that half of you are ready to get into the panic room I have been building to ride out this evil storm and the rest, morons really, are skeptical.

Anybody ever see the movie the Purge?

That is exactly what is going on.

Anarchy, blood in the streets, dogs and cats- living together. MASS HYSTERIA! (Name the movie and you get sprinkles.)

And the twisted part of it all is that I am forgoing my time honored tradition of huddling in the dark and crying like a little girl for the day.

I will be thumbing my nose at the beast and going hiking.

There is an excellent chance with will be the last blog ever written as I will be dead at the bottom of a cliff by 9am tomorrow, both legs broken and gang-raped by bigfoot and the chubacabra.

I was going to say that there are worse ways to die, but I can’t think of a worse way to die right now, that sounds pretty F-ing horrible.

But, I have been bitten pretty badly by the hiking bug and I am heading out every day off I have.

Like a healthy form of meth, I am pretty deep into the addiction.

It is better for your body than meth and you never have to blow anyone in an alley for a trail.

So I’ve got that going for me.

Turns out, that after a lifetime spent growing up in southern California, I suddenly found out there are amazing trails all over the place.

And it may be the cheapest hobby on the day to day.

Decent shoes are a must, along with something to hold water and food, hiking poles are nice, shade hat and sunglasses.

But you can piece it all together on the cheap and as long as you have the free time, you can go binge on your addiction all you like.

I will get sick of it eventually, but for right now, I am loving it.

But hiking on Friday the 13th has that extra edge of masochism to it that makes it pretty exciting.

I wonder what its like to die in a landslide?

Without coffee?

Now THAT is scary.

Fuck it, I am staying home.

If anyone needs me, they will find me in my panic room, sipping coffee and crying like a little girl. (Possibly masturbating, but this is a don’t ask/don’t tell blog.)

My condolences.

 
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Posted by on May 13, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

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Are you talking to me?

Beware that, when fighting monsters, you yourself do not become a monster… for when you gaze long into the abyss. The abyss gazes also into you.”

Nietzsche was a mentally twisted beast of a human being.

But, he did have a point.

I got an email. No big deal.

I get a lot of emails, mostly spam. (Viagra, rogain and life insurance. This should bother me more, not sure why it doesn’t.)

But, there is also a certain percentage of inevitable hate mail that this juvenile screed scares up on a regular basis, week in, week out, often by the same people.

And it rarely bothers me, mainly because I value very few opinions higher than my own.

And critics kind of rate at the bottom of that list.

But, every now and then someone pops up that truly has an intellect, expression, brilliance and puts down a scathing rebuked that throws me into the shit.

Who is this superior being? The erudite elitist that has that kind of clout?

Me.

Shit from pretty much everyone else is water off a ducks back.

But what happens when it comes from the duck?

And here is how it started.

Some jagoff sent me hatemail and said I was like a monster.

Didn’t call me a monster, said I was like a monster.

Probably a throw away line from this person that meant nothing.

I read it a few days ago, and don’t even recognize what it was that caused the twisting of the panties.

It came from one of those people that I get crap email from all the time.

But it struck a nerve, made me think.

Thinking is a lot like looking in a mirror.

And the last thing a monster wants is to look in the mirror.

There is that moment of recognition of being a monster, and that delayed hit of realizing that you didn’t start out this way.

The abyss of this blog has been staring into me long enough that it has changed my perspective.

I used to sit in the normal section and point out the funny shit over in the asshole seats.

Now? After almost 5 years and 600+ posts?

I live in the asshole section.

Hell, I am the mayor.

My filter is gone and what is spewing out of the pipes is some foul shit.

So be it.

The one thing that Nietzsche never figured out was this:

Being a monster doesn’t bother the monster.

He likes being a monster.

Its a lot like being an 800 pound gorilla with a big dick.

It intimidates a lot of people, and the ones it doesn’t are the only players of the game you are likely to find.

And these players will pick up the shit you throw out.

And throw it back.

And thats fun.

 
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Posted by on May 6, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

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