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My whore-like existence

The brilliance of this blog is a lot like an orgasm from a celibate man. It’s more than you expect, a little overwhelming and will most likely get you right between the eyes.

Like an intellectual money shot that gets in your eyes and blurs your vision for a moment.

FYI, some of these images are meant to be disturbing.

A little like a mental Rolfing that leaves you refreshed, but in a little or a lot of pain.

So, that being said, here is the wisdom.

Your shit is not that fucking important.

Before you dismiss that, think about it, not read it and sip your soy milk, 2 shot, caramel latte with cinnemon and sprinkles that you paid $6.99 no less, and actually think about it.

Let me define “Shit” for you.

Shit is a generic term with rude imagery for a purpose.

It denotes your politics, food choices, pets, children, religious beliefs, and anything not covered previously in this sentence.

Now for the other shoe.

Not that fucking important means Not that fucking important to anyone else.

This whole train of thought was brought on by some over the top statements on Twitter, Facebook and Instagram by some serious attention whoring drama queens that all make the same sad desperate “Look at me” statements.

If you like (Insert person, cause or belief) then unfriend me now. (Insert a whiny point of view usually based on poorly reported biased news.)

It wears on you after awhile.

One particularly stunning woman I know made this comment to anyone thinking about voting for a political candidate that they don’t like.

I didn’t unfriend her, but I did unfollow her, she is a fan of the blog. (I truly hope she reads this and understands that its nothing personal, but she is a dipshit. She also like to post lingerie pics that are worth seeing. Don’t judge me.)

Unfollowing is a good way of making sure that when I post, they get my post, but I don’t have to be bothered with their fleshy-headed bullshit any more than I have to.

At first glance, you might think there is a mean edge to this post, today.

Far from it.

This is more of the blogging version of tough love.

Like a stern parent or a tough cop, occasionally, I have to go upside your head to get your attention and change your perspective.

And, like all children of stern parents, you try to rebel, bitch about how harsh it is and then, years later, you realize how goddam right I am.

Your welcome.

And yet, there is also a seedy side to this.

Like I have said before, to achieve the pure innocence that I have, you have to travel just as far down other side of the scale so it all balances out.

And yet, I never rebelled against my parents.

I don’t view that as a weakness of character, especially when its the opposite.

You would have to know the absolute forces of nature I call mom and dad just to understand that synchronicity made total sense.

Mom is a total therapist, been a professional psychic for over half a century, and dad is the original man, a mechanic with a rock solid lock on how a man behaves in the world.

My gratitude for the luck of my birth and my parents is boundless.

And here we are.

I do not view their influence as having to do with the cruder side of this blog, that unfortunately, is all me.

I have taken what they gave me, and turned myself into some sort of sex worker in print.

You come here, once a week, do your business, avoid eye contact, then leave awkwardly.

You could at least leave the money on the dresser on your way out.

Or a cup of coffee.

Mmmmm coffee.

 
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Posted by on August 12, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

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You wanna go out?

I am in one of my favorite breakfast places.

The coffee is hot, the hotcakes are good and they don’t mind me being there for a few hours.

And there is a couple on a date in the next booth.

It a “Meet and Greet” date.

They met on a dating site.

He is here to try and get things going.

She is here to make sure he is not a serial rapist.

That’s a date that starts with the phrase “Hey, does this rag smell like chloroform?”

Its an odd thing to see two people in their mid 30’s being this polite and nervous.

From the sound of my RUDE listening in, they have been IM-ing all week.

You would think they would be a little more comfortable.

Or maybe that is why they are nervous, because they know a little something about each other.

There’s a little skin in the game now.

It would be easier on the nerves if they had met in a singles bar.

Emotionally, there is no skin in the game there, just skin.

Singles bars used to be called meat markets and for good reason.

Nowadays, we are much more civilized.

And the meat market is now online.

And its a hundred times worse.

It used to just be that there was one or two guys that would get sloppy drunk and use the obscene pick up lines.

The bouncers would get wind of it and Mr. Rude would get tossed.

And all was right with the world.

Now however, due to the anonymous safety of the internet, guys aren’t even getting sloppy drunk before they break out the truly vile pick up lines.

And out of pure survival instinct, the ladies have mentally circled the wagons.

Three quarters of all women’s profiles on the dating sites say, at a minimum, “No hook ups”.

And that is the mildest defense.

The ladies that have truly had a hard time has some disclaimers that, at first glance, you would think was a joke.

One truly stunning Asian woman had a disclaimer, all in caps, at the end of her carefully written profile.

“I will not  blow you on the first date and I am not into anal.”

Here are my thoughts.

That is not the sort of thing you write because 1 or 2 random guys asked her these things.

There had to have been enough requests that she felt it necessary to include, not in the first private communication, but in the profile, right off the bat.

This is like dealing with a battered wife.

Or maybe it is dealing with a battered wife, without the hassle of the wedding.

Which leaves the rest of us to deal with a bunch of hypersensitive women that have been mind-banged by the internet.

Thanks guys, on behalf of all of us trying to date in the modern age, thanks a bunch.

Now, there has to be one woman, some complete skank that this has worked on for this many assholes to get the idea that it will work.

So she deserves a big thanks from the rest of us.

The internet is more to blame than anything else.

Because now the freaks have an easier time cranking their freak flags to even more disgusting heights.

As we all know, the weirdest porn comes from Japan.

So, no matter what you are into, there is a website dedicated to that.

Before this becomes a post about internet porn, let me pull my attention back to the dating couple.

They have both calmed down and there is some decent conversation going on.

And there is no chloroform in site.

I wish them luck.

 

 
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Posted by on September 14, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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Age of unreason.

I am about to rub one out at my little table in Starbucks.

There is a hotter version of a young Sophia Loren, with jet black hair down to her ass, describing the art of erotic massage over the phone, all the while playing with her hair with her free hand.

As far as masturbatory fantasies go, this one is pretty solid.

And I am not the only one. The two old guys that were having a solid conversation on the other side of her have gone silent and are just sitting there and avoiding eye contact.

I feel no shame sitting in a Starbucks sporting a painfully rigid erection at my age.

I like to think its a sign of good health.

Its when you find yourself in these situations and you are sporting a “Limp biscuit” that you should worry.

Lust makes the world go round.

If I had to put an age on her, I would say 31 at the most.

Old enough to no longer be a child, young enough to know how to play properly.

I may be in love.

My heart (See also hard on) falls so easily sometimes.

Ok, so I have ruled out committing an obscene public act, but it was close.

On to other things.

They have just reopened this Starbucks after closing it for a week.

I have been sitting at the Coffee Bean for the last week, which I have grown to enjoy, even with its pretentious imported coffees.

The porno situation next to me has left and now it is just the two old guys next to me.

And these are some dirty old men.

They are having an animated discussion.

Given what I know of their generation and standards of morality, I am fairly certain that their discussion has gone obscene.

Heads huddled together, hushed whispers, furtive glances around, its all there.

I believe I just heard to word “Blumpkin”. (Google it, its filthy)

These are some filthy old men.

Good to see.

You might think that is an odd statement.

But in this overly politically correct society, it is refreshing to see some perfectly harmless dirty behavior.

Honestly, I hope thats me in 30 years.

Old enough to know better, to old to care.

Although I get the feeling my later years will be unpleasant at best, and a horror show at worst.

I will probably end up sitting there, day in and day out, no clue who I am, with that “Permanently terrified look on my face.

An interesting thing just happened.

Everyone that reads this that has family that has gone this route is now evenly split, half are pissed at my callousness, and the other half spit their coffee laughing.

Life is like that.

Being inappropriate is a trait in my family.

Some of the funniest jokes I have ever heard has been told to me at funerals.

There are times that the difference between laughing and crying is intent.

That being said, if I was only 10 years older, I would have given serious thought to rubbing one out when the porn goddess was here.

 
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Posted by on November 11, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

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